I’ve had more than a few misadventures over the years and they usually make good stories after a few years or so. It’s been about 20 years for this one, and I can now share it with a frivolity of sorts.  It was my last trip with my ex-husband and we were in London for a week to see a few shows and some matches at Wimbledon. Due to the extended stay we rented a small flat. When our landlady gave us instructions she also explained unequivocally that Sunday was her day off and she was not to be bothered for any reason.

I liked to run first thing in the morning and usually was successful in encouraging my mate to join me, mostly because I have a dreadful sense of direction and was certain I would not make it back to the neighborhood.  However, as the week went on, he was more and more reluctant.  That last day I ran alone. When I returned I rang the buzzer, meaning he would have to step into the hall to release the front door.  Unfortunately, the apartment door closed behind his nakedness.  He ran into the shared W.C. and stayed there….it was Sunday.

OK, I may have waited for a while……… but eventually I was the one to endure the wrath of the landlady and let hubby back into the room.