It’s Thursday afternoon and in the early hours of tomorrow morning we’ll be flying to Salou in Spain, a holiday resort just along the coast from Barcelona. Our early morning flight from Gatwick to Reus leaves at 5.55 am which means leaving home at 3 am to be at the airport by 4 am.
Today has been spent on all the last minute jobs like getting the grass cut and the garden trim and tidy so that in two weeks time when we get back it will look like an untamed jungle. For the past two weeks Pauline’s been working through her lists of things to do – sorting out money, buying essentials, cancelling papers, arranging the non-delivery of post, organising Emma’s foreign currency and travel requirements, making sure her business loose ends are all tied up, arranging airport transportation etc etc. etc. while I’ve been doing all the important manly things today like charging batteries, packing electrical adaptors and……..er….that’s it really.
Oh, and the really important job of sorting out the padlocks and keys for the suitcases.
This may sound simple to the uninitiated but, believe me, this job is not something to undertake if you’re not fully prepared for it mentally and physically.
So…….there are three cases. Each case needs one padlock and each padlock needs one key plus one spare key. The trouble is, over the years we’ve accumulated more bloody keys than padlocks so each year the six keys I need get more and more difficult to identify from the mass of rogue keys that have grown in number since 1983 and which are all kept in a pile in one of the bedside cabinet drawers.
Now I know what you’re thinking. Why don’t I just keep the six keys I need separate from the rest in a different drawer or on a different key ring? Good point. Or better still, I hear you interrupt me, why don’t you throw away all the old keys that don’t fit anything anymore? Another good point, but don’t try and be a smartarse. Do you think I’ve never thought of that? I do separate the six keys. Every year I separate them. I do. I do. I really do. But it’s a bit like that Christmas light law which says:
‘However carefully you coil up the Christmas lights and pack them away, when you come to use them again in a year’s time, the flex will have mysteriously formed itself into so many intricate knots that it’s almost better to chuck them away and buy a new set. And even if you do manage to unravel the damned lights there will always be at least one bulb that isn’t working even though they were all working a year ago and haven’t been touched since.’
If you’re lucky you’ll still be able to go back to the shop you bought them from and get the right bulb but nine out of ten shops decide to sell completely different sets of lights each year and trying to match your duff bulb to the myriad of bulb sets on display is a complete waste of time. They’re different shapes, different sizes, different socket formats and different wattages. And what about the price? A set of bulbs for at least 99p? 25p a bulb? At least? Bloody daylight robbery.
It’s the same with padlock keys.
No matter how carefully I organise them one year, the next year they’ve gained some sort of key intelligence and jumped onto key rings along with other keys that don’t belong there. How does that happen?
So, it’s Thursday afternoon, the cases are almost packed and ready to go and here I am trying key after key in each padlock to see if it fits. If it does, putting it to one side with the other matched keys, finding another key that fits, putting it to one side with the other matched keys, finding the separate pile of matched keys has disappeared and mysteriously moved back into the pile of keys still waiting to be checked, starting all over again, finding a match again, putting the key somewhere safe, finding further matched keys, putting them somewhere safe but not necessarily where I put the other keys safe and finally identifying all six keys and sitting back after a job well done with no idea where I’ve put them to keep them safe.
Jesus, this is ridiculous.
“Pauline, I’ve lost those damned keys again. Can you see them anywhere?”
“Not unless they’re that pile over there lying on top of the TV.”
“Blimey, how did they get over there? How many keys are there?”
“Nine.”
“That’s no good, there should be six. Hang on, here they are, I’ve found them. They’re in the waste paper bin, I knew I’d put them somewhere safe…..”
So, as I said, this year it’s Salou and we’re taking Emma and three of her girlfriends, Hollie, Samantha and Emily. Emily’s staying the night and travelling with us while we meet up with Hollie and Samantha at Gatwick. Emily’s suitcase is big and heavy enough to be holding at least two illegal immigrants and I’m already having nightmares about it being refused at check-in.
Still, our cases will be nicely locked and secure.
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