Definition of an Eejit Part XI

Seems a long time since I defined myself as a buffoon. Well, it's happened again.

I've just told you about one of my colleagues being made redundant. On Tuesday, I got the chance to got out with him for a few drinks, make sure he was ok, and let him know it wasn't anything personal. 'A few drinks' turned out to be an all day pub crawl, taking in about half a dozen venues and a selection of pub quiz machines.

Additional note here. Well worth having a German on your quiz team. He may have been young and had no idea about UK kids TV, but it was amazing how many European geography questions and German language questions came up.

Anyway, back to the pub crawl. As soon as I realised it was going to be a long one, I did the sensible thing of leaving my bunch of keys at home. How bad would it have been if I'd lost the office keys? I simply took out the key to the front door, loose, in my jeans pocket (mixed in with my loose change. Can you tell where this story is going?). Moritz returned his set of office keys to me that he no longer needed, so I was carrying a set of them anyway, despite trying to be so careful earlier on.

We stayed in the last pub for several drinks. It has a huge beer garden, and my friend is a smoker so it meant he could puff away to his heart's content. I taught him a few new card tricks, and we even put on a bit of a magic show for two girls who seemed impressed. (Well, I think they were more drunk than us, so any mistakes we made didn't register).

I caught a cab home, must have arrived at the flat about midnight, and reached into my pocket for my key...I had Moritz's old office keys and about sixteen pound in pound coins but no flat key. A frantic rummage through every orriface on my clothing turned up nothing (except for some reason a broken cigarette lighter!) and I was stuck outside my flat door, unable to gain entry.

Another side note here. You may be wondering how I managed to get into the block of flats in the first place. One of my neighbours was trying to shift a wardrobe out to a waiting van so the front door was propped open. Why you would want to move a wardrobe at midnight is anybody's guess.

Ok, so what to do. I could gain entry from my neighbours balcony but it's midnight. I could attempt to break the lock and pay for the damages (I actually tried putting my shoulder to the door and almost broke three bones, so I gave up on that idea.) I could phone the landlord and explain, but again it's midnight and he doesn't live locally....

...or I could do what I ended up doing and walk to the office. With Moritz's keys I let myself in and slept under my own desk. I woke at 6am and as 'luck' would have it I was the only one due into the Southampton office that day. I worked from 6am til 10pm and during the day got hold of the landlord and got him to deliver a spare to the office. (I made up a story about how I locked myself out. Didn't fancy telling him his key was probably on the back seat of a cab, or under a beer garden table).

By the time I finally gained access to the apartment I had been out of the place (and wearing the same clothes) for 36 hours....

...I told you I was an eejit.