9:45pm. Christmas Day. A bench outside a closed pub in East Dulwich. I'd managed to log on to Facebook on my laptop and was checking the news feed to pass the time. Some leaves blew onto my keyboard and I quickly brushed them off again. A drunk man walked past and wished me a Merry Christmas. I gave him a thumbs up.
Ninety minutes earlier, dad had just dropped me outside my front door. He was in urgent need of a water closet and I had to painfully but clearly inform him that he couldn't necessarily come in use mine as it was not my house. He dutifully carried my presents up the steps and placed them in the doorway. I turned the key in the lock but the door wouldn't open. I then remembered that my landlord had said she'd double-lock the front door over Christmas.
I gave her a call. She'd thought I'd said I was coming home on Boxing Day and she was out in another part of the city. I updated dad, who offered to take me back to his house. It seemed like the most logical solution. I told her that's what I'd do, gathered up the presents and hopped back into the car. Dad started to drive to his house.
I felt distressed. Having to spend time with my family over Christmas had been draining and the change of plan was really bothering me. At the top of Lordship Lane, I made dad stop the car and got out without explanation or presents. I told him I was staying here and that he could carry on back to his house. There wasn't much time for him to think about it. He still needed to relieve himself. He sped off southwards.
I sent my landlord a text informing her that I'd stayed in East Dulwich and would like to spend the night there. I asked her to let me know when she was home but not to rush. I then called Dad and still without really giving much explanation, told him that I'd be staying in London and that my landlord would be home soon. I spent the next hour and a half wandering around the neighbourhood before taking a seat outside The Flying Pig.
The wind blew at the scaffolding behind me, the blue tarp tapping me on the back of the neck. I'd found a couple of people to message and was fairly content to be alone and back in my area. At around ten, I received a text from my landlord informing me that she'd arrived. I put the laptop back in my rucksack and walked back to the house to find out how much I'd inconvenienced her and how she felt about it.
Ninety minutes earlier, dad had just dropped me outside my front door. He was in urgent need of a water closet and I had to painfully but clearly inform him that he couldn't necessarily come in use mine as it was not my house. He dutifully carried my presents up the steps and placed them in the doorway. I turned the key in the lock but the door wouldn't open. I then remembered that my landlord had said she'd double-lock the front door over Christmas.
I gave her a call. She'd thought I'd said I was coming home on Boxing Day and she was out in another part of the city. I updated dad, who offered to take me back to his house. It seemed like the most logical solution. I told her that's what I'd do, gathered up the presents and hopped back into the car. Dad started to drive to his house.
I felt distressed. Having to spend time with my family over Christmas had been draining and the change of plan was really bothering me. At the top of Lordship Lane, I made dad stop the car and got out without explanation or presents. I told him I was staying here and that he could carry on back to his house. There wasn't much time for him to think about it. He still needed to relieve himself. He sped off southwards.
I sent my landlord a text informing her that I'd stayed in East Dulwich and would like to spend the night there. I asked her to let me know when she was home but not to rush. I then called Dad and still without really giving much explanation, told him that I'd be staying in London and that my landlord would be home soon. I spent the next hour and a half wandering around the neighbourhood before taking a seat outside The Flying Pig.
The wind blew at the scaffolding behind me, the blue tarp tapping me on the back of the neck. I'd found a couple of people to message and was fairly content to be alone and back in my area. At around ten, I received a text from my landlord informing me that she'd arrived. I put the laptop back in my rucksack and walked back to the house to find out how much I'd inconvenienced her and how she felt about it.
4 comments
All sorts of annoying being locked out, especially when you have your keys! Whoops on the mixed communications I guess
Does your reluctance to let your Dad use the loo mean you can’t have visitors?
Hey :) how was your Christmas?
I should ask Tara if I want to bring someone into her house.
It went very well thanks. Just me, Hubby, son and in laws.
Ran round like a headless stressed chicken in the lead up to sitting down to the meal, but no disasters, and the verdict all round was, delicious and best ever, and we all ate til we couldn’t fit another morsel in.
Nothing spectacular happened afterwards apart from continued chatting and drinking with a bit of low key TV that we mostly ignored.
The In Laws left about 9.30 and I was really happy with how things had gone and ready to flump.
We had been half expecting a couple of my husbands mates to pop in later on but thankfully they called off due to over indulgence in the festive spirit. Phew! I was secretly very relieved about that.
How did yours go?
That all sounds fantastic, well done :) and yes it must be tiring having to continually entertain more people after having hosted all day so perhaps that was a lucky break.
Glad you had a smooth day.
Yes, all good with mine. Ate food, opened presents, watched queen, no disasters.
I had a really good time with my sister and her husband on Christmas Eve. We went out and played pool, which I enjoy. It was a bit less formal.
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