Locked in and Left Left High and Dry: Part I

Hello Hello, 

Yes, I know. I missed last week. But honestly the week I have had ... you wouldn't be surprised.

Packing up my bag I was surprised I could fit a fortnight of clothes in my mini-case. "At least I know I could do a two-week holibobs," I thought, sadly wondering when the next time really would be given the travel restrictions still in place and the confusing rule and regulations surrounding them all. Loading it into the car I bid farewell to the pups and promised to see them at the weekend. The only difference being is that rather than me bombing it home on a Friday night with hopes of an Indian and lots of pup-snuggles, Mr. Warehouse would be bringing them down, along with himself to see me in my new accommodation.

It was going to be wonderful. And with "Freedom day" finally here my week was looking busy with plans already, meeting with Miss Tweedle-Dee and my Uncle Golf for some dinner in the week and all in the knowledge that masks were not a necessity and life was a little more back to normality. 

Ahh, yes. Freedom. Monday, 19 July 2021 in the UK has finally marked the ending of lockdowns (fingers-crossed) and with an end for all COVID restrictions, Bozza Jozza's looking pretty pleased with himself. Now don't get it twisted, I am as happy as the next person, but I do worry that this isn't it and that somehow it may all come tumbling down again. I feel as though there is still enough time for the figures to creep up and for numbers to increase so much so another lockdown could be on the cards and disappointingly I can see in coming into place right before our special day.I hope not. 

You would have been forgiven for thinking I had dumped my fiance and moved to Hertford the amount I had been staying away for work, pretty much five days a week since I started nearly 10-weeks ago was a lot for one person, especially when they had a whole life back home and a feast of family and friends that were being neglected. And all in the name of a career. But no, since I was asked to stay away for the full summer holidays in order to cover people's annual leave and childcare arrangements. I had agreed to get the company to rent a serviced apartment AirBnB type place - Somewhere I could leave a bottle of shampoo or my straighteners over the weekend, you know. 

And so I poodled on down the M1 to Hertford for another day's work, tottering off to my new abode to settle in for the evening and unpack. The Mills Guesthouse was a small self-contained studio apartment set within a seemingly large family home down a winding country road in Hatfield. Looking out onto a feature garden with a small patio terrace I was delighted to find that every room came with a flat-screen TV and a private bathroom along with a wardrobe and some very basic cooking facilities including a microwave, tiny fridge, and a kettle. Although I was happy with this and finally glad I could have even just a ready meal over takeout every night.

Unfortunately, since the landlord was going on holiday soon, I was unable to indulge in the continental or a Full English/Irish breakfast, but she seemed friendly enough and welcomed me to use the other areas of the house including the kitchen, washing machine, and conservatory when she was away. Explaining it was normally students staying she explained I would be one of the only people at the property whilst she and her family were away which was not for a few more weeks yet. I was happy and the best part was it was doggo and visitor friendly.

After calling Mr. Warehouse and showing off my new pad it was getting dark and with it being blog night I wanted to make a head start soon and get an early night, considering we both hadn't slept much the night before due to the heat. Closing the posh bi-folding doors I was confused as to why it wouldn't lock properly or shut all the way, and, after YouTubing had not helped and WikiHow had no answers for me I called the landlord. She was equally confused, probably wondering why this bimbo can't close the damned door. Following her instructions over the phone I felt a snap. I looked down and saw that the silvery metal in my hand should not have come off and should indeed still be attached to the door in which it was being used as a handle.

Explaining what had just happened the lady sounded pissed as she said she would be over in five. Panicking I didn't know what to do but wait. After she checked it out, the Landlord confirmed what I already knew. the door couldn't be locked from the inside and I would have no option but to sleep with an unlocked door. Not knowing what to do she left with promises of a locksmith to come over and fix in the next few days. As soon as she left I called my fiance. I was in floods of tears by this point, mostly from tiredness but also from panic and being scared about the night ahead.

After all the suggestions were put forward there was only one option I had left. I couldn't call anyone from work, it was half-nine at night for goodness sake, and besides what could they do. I couldn't really sleep in my car, but equally, I couldn't sleep with the door wide open. Other than going and spending a night at a local budget hotel and claiming it back on expenses there was only one other option. Another studio garden room was available on the other side of the garden so I reasoned with myself and called the women back.

Apologizing for crying and having a fucking freak-out moment, I said to her that I simply didn't feel comfortable. She tried to reassure me saying it was a good area and she was staying in the house upstairs and that really I would WANT to have the door open because of the balmy night. Once again I said that I was sorry but I didn't know the area and the room looked out onto what appeared to be a busy and popular walking spot for people and that in all fairness I didn't know her from Adam, let alone anyone else in the house or that could be staying. I wasn't too bothered about my laptop or engagement ring, I had watched far too many horror films to know that this wouldn't end well.

Realizing that the other garden studio was not an option as it wasn't set up for guests (which was a crock of shit because I snooped earlier and it was perfectly set up no problems) and with it getting close to 10pm I reluctantly agreed with the only thing left to do - Lock me in. Now I understood in my head there were other risks which would ensue, like what would I do if there was a fire or emergency and I needed to get out but by this point, I was running out of options and all bar having Mr. Warehouse trapse down here with the dogs and stay awake all night on edge waiting for Freddy or Jason to come busting down my door.

Reluctantly I agreed to be locked in like a prisoner, unbeknownst to me that it would be my one and only night staying. Ahh yes, because life has a funny way of showing you who is in control, ripping the rug right from underneath you when you least expect it ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou x

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