Locked out.

Locked out

Yesterday we went out for breakfast. Early. After a big few weeks. It’s fair to say I stumbled out the house, added some dark sunglasses and hoped to god that no-one I knew would see me.

Why so early? I hear you asking. And it’s a very good question, and I blame my mum. My sister is moving to Sydney for work, and my mum insisted on us all having breakfast together as a farewell type thing. I liked the idea, but the reality was less fun. Especially the part where I had to also get Poss organised and out the door before 8am on a Saturday.

But breakfast we did. And it all went well. Until we got home and we tried to get in our house.

You see, we’ve recently had our locks changed. After a spate of break-ins in our neighbourhood (ok, spate might be overselling it, there was one, but still) I was keen to update the locks on our previously very dodgy doors. One of them in particular was so bad, that once our cat opened it. While it was locked. And she’s not even particularly clever.

Thankfully good folk at Five Star Locksmiths were kind enough to help us out, replacing the lock that even the cat could break in via, and adding some fancy bolt things, giving the other locks a service (who even knew that was a thing?) and giving us all new keys. A simple enough process, that meant suddenly all the doors closed, and locked.

Sorry cat, but you’re back outside. And as it turns out, this morning, so was I.

You see, in my befuddled early morning start, I managed to pick up the car keys with the old door key on it. Poss and I were less than impressed to look in through the dining room window to see the *other* set of keys, with the new key on it. Just out of reach, behind a locked door.

The bunny was also in the house. Bouncing around as if he owned the place. Taunting us through the window. Unfortunately for us, his only skill is to beg for food whenever the fridge door is open and separate the spinach leaves from the kale leaves in a mixed bag of lettuce. Neither of these skills are helpful in getting him to open a door.

We did all the usual things; walk round to all the doors, yell at them a bit and shake them to see if we could open them. Turns out that whatever the locksmiths did, it also stopped the doors magically opening at this. Sneaky.

In the end we drove into Richmond, where a spare key was waiting on the keyring of Poss’ nanny, who was having breakfast with her friends. Thankfully she seems to be the most organised person in our lives, as she is the only one who can enter and exit our house without drama. I hate to think what she told her mates.

All is well that ends well though. And we got into the house. And we now know the locks are fabulously fabulous at stopping other people getting in. And I’ve also added the new keys to all the key rings. So in theory this shouldn’t happen again.

And I’ve also made a promise never to attend a breakfast before 8am on a Saturday ever again. Just in case.


Disclaimer – the team at Five Star Locksmiths did the work on our locks, and replaced the keys for no charge, in return for a review. Somehow I don’t think they expected I would actually be locking myself out of the house. Oops. 

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  1. Alix Helps says:

    Clever bun. Knows when not to be foxed by burglars dressed up as your loved ones.
    Good boy.

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