Myself and Natalie arrive home sometime after 2.00 am and mere minutes later I decide I want to go to Spar for some crisps. I go to the front door to get out of the house. Shit, it won't open. After trying for a good while we decide we're unable to get out and the lock is stuck. Oh dear. Despite being a little worse for wear I do realise that the front door refusing to open poses something of a problem but what I really wanted to do was go to bed and worry about it in the morning. And what does Natalie want to do? Natalie wants to phone the police (God knows what they'd do about it - break the door down making our house very burglar-friendly indeed?). I convince her not to but what does she do? To my great amusement she sends a TEXT MESSAGE to 999.

'Help! We are locked in our house and can't get out!'

I have been chuckling about it all day. It turns out the lock just was a bit stuck. It's fine now.

Other Natalie-related news: She has an eye infection caused by habitually going to sleep in contact lenses (which is very, VERY bad for your eyes). I was selected to do the task of putting some eyedrops in for her but unfortunately at the sight of her eyes close up I recoiled in horror and was so traumatised I ended up walking into her door. There is an odd jelly lump sitting on the iris of one of her eyes. Eeeeek.

Today I've been to the gym and finally got my packet of crisps from Spar about 14 hours too late. I planned on finishing George Orwell's Homage to Catalonia today. I haven't. I'm four chapters in, which I read yesterday and ended up needing to take a nap after. Doesn't look good really.

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