Scaling the Fences of Clapham


IMG_3414.JPG So this story is just about as me as it gets. Unlucky me who always ends up in ridiculous situations, yep that’s the one. To be honest I haven’t found myself in too many palavas of late and I think my blog has been lacking content because of this. What is my life if not an endless string of poos on cars and kitchen failures? But this morning joy found herself in a bit of a pickle.

Having stayed the night at a friends house in clapham I had an easy journey the next day so decided to have a bit of a lie in. Unbeknownst to this, everyone else in the house left to go to work and (perfectly reasonably) double locked the front door. I then got up on my jolly way and attempted to leave the house to find myself well and truly locked in.

I tried calling everyone with no luck so I then searched the house for easy exits or balconies or any kind of way out. When that was a fail I searched the house for keys. And when that was a fail I went to examine the fence. Now this is a pretty damn high fence. At first examination I thought the only way over was into neighbours gardens and I didn’t quite fancy getting arrested. However on closer examination (standing on a chair and getting leaves stuck in my hair) I realised there was a way over the back into some kind of wall garden.

I’ve always thought of myself as a bit of a climbing queen. When I was a youngster on family holidays I would be that weirdo who runs off to climb cliffs just for the lols. One time I got stuck up an Italian mountain and slipped all the way down almost plunging to my death until a random man saved me. Good old climbing related near-death-experiences and all that. So of course I couldn’t resist the chance to climb a fence and add some adventure to my Thursday morning. The bag went over first, but before I could get myself over I got a call from one of the girls saying ‘whatever you do DONT leave without locking the doors’. Oh yeah that’s what id forgotten, the back door. But my bag was already over. I could have just left it there until someone let me out but being the woman who loses every belonging possible I thought I would be semi-sensible and get it back over. So I hoiked myself over the fence, experiencing a cruel taste of freedom, and went back into the house. Many neighbours were out in their gardens smoking and probably thought I was the worst escapee ever. Who goes to the effort of climbing over a fence to then climb back into the place they escaped from?! Me apparently.

Then came the waiting game. Waiting for the landlord. When it turned out that she wasn’t in London, waiting for the estate agent to open. Waiting for the estate agent to look for keys in the slowest way possible. The estate agent being a bitch. ‘We can’t give you keys if you’re not a tenant so your friend is going to have to come home from work’ (insert bitchy whiny voice). Well thanks but no thanks, I’m going back over the fence. A lightbulb came through the idea of locking the door from the outside (the fact that I hadn’t thought of this already shows my utter lack of common sense). So off I went, door locked, up the fence and over the wall. Having already done this once I was a pro; I owned that fence. Go me.

I’m not sure if there really is a life lesson to learn from this story. Where there is a will there is a way? Fences are made for climbing over? Now I definitely sound like a burglar freak. I think the positive nature in which I viewed this incident shows that I crave ridiculous occurrences in my life and they are probably necessary. What’s a Thursday morning without a little problem solving and energetic fence scaling activity anyway?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s