My outdoor adventures require a lot of kit (lucozade, ipods, Munsterlanders, change of clothes so as not to offend the parents on a Sunday afternoon with loathsome outdoor smells …etc.etc).  Said kit traipsed to the front door.  Key in lock.  Turn. Or not.   The bolt to my one and only door in and out of my maisonette flat is outright refusing to move. 

So here I am writing my blog whilst waiting for the emergency locksmith to come and rescue me.

It’s been a peculiar old week, involving several embarrassing incidents.  Happily I started my ‘official’ dental nurse training this week at Westmorland Hospital with the lovely people at Training 2000. Having had to forfeit my first lesson to drop matey off at the train station (www.skeletoncoastexpedition.com), I was keen to make a good impression (be on time, new pencil case etc.). However, I had been playing Russian Roulette with my beloved old LandRover’s diesel dial for a few journeys when Lady Luck decided to kick me in the teeth.  The tricksy dial had been telling me lies again, and Defender 90 konked out agonisingly close to Crooklands Garage.  One embarrassing call to the lovely people at the AA, and on the road again, arriving only half an hour late for my NVQ Level 3 Dental Nursing class. 

Aren’t the AA brilliant?  One of the very few organisations or people who unflaggingly turn up much earlier than expected. And with the doorbell ringing, local locksmiths too…