An ALARMing story

In memory of the flat we've just moved out of,  I thought I'd tell you a little story.  Some of you will have heard this story.  But you might like to hear it again anyways...

One sunny morning in early October last year, the newly-weds stirred slowly in their new bedroom in their new flat.  (In their not new, rather uncomfortable sofa bed.  But that's beside the point).  They'd only got back from honeymoon a couple of days before.  Hubby kindly offered to cook breakfast.  Wifey sat in the sunny living room, enjoying the big bay window looking out onto a quiet terraced street and the smells of bacon wafting down the hallway from the kitchen.  All of a sudden her sleepy reverie was rudely interrupted by the most hideously loud alarm you can imagine.  Wifey remembered the landlord showing them the control board for the fire alarm should it go off.  So she ran out the front door into the corridor of the building they shared with 3 other flats.  But the alarm was so loud that any trace of rational thought residing in her still half asleep brain was blasted to pieces.  She had no idea which buttons to press to silence the awful noise.  So wifey hurried back inside and gestured frantically for hubby to come and help.  He left the bacon on the hob and stepped out into the corridor.  As he stood in front of the control board, keying in the code, the front door slammed shut.  Husband and wife froze as the realisation of what this meant dawned on them.

They were locked out.

The alarm had now stopped,

but they were locked out.

And the bacon was still cooking.

And, to top it all off, hubby and wifey weren't exactly fully clothed.  After all they'd only recently got out of bed.  And it was a warm day.  Hubby was in a pair of boxers, and wifey was in a rather skimpy red specially-bought-for-the-wedding-night silky nighty.  Neglige, does one call it?

So there they were.  The 'happy couple', half naked, locked out, with the threat of an actual fire starting in their kitchen.  No mobile phone, no wallet, no shoes, no nothing.  I haven't told you yet that the reason for the alarm going off in the first place was a stupidly sensitive smoke/heat detector that the estate agents neglected to warn them about.

They tried ringing the bells of the other flats in the building.  No answer.  Hubby went next door to see if anyone there could help.  A kind neighbour eventually let him in and allowed Hubby to climb out of his window into the garden of the flat below us in the hope that Hubbycould then get in through our bedroom window.  The climb involved battling with a thorn tree and coming off worse for wear.  Only to discover that their bedroom window was way too high above the patio below to be of any help.  Back over the wall and the spiky plant and back into neighbour's flat.  Meanwhile Wifey was pacing up and down the front steps, swearing more than ever before in her life, not caring that the whole street could see her.  Hubby reappeared, baring scratched legs and dressing gowns from the neighbour to make the pair a little more decent.  They finally remember that something called the fire service existed.  And probably needed to be called.  Afterall there was a threat of a real fire starting in our kitchen.  Again kind-neighbour-man came to the rescue by letting them use his phone. The fire engine arrived a few minutes later, sirens blaring.

*How embarrassing*

Thankfully the firemen were helpful, and got into the flat without having to knock the door down.  PHEW.

And the bacon wasn't even burnt - just about ready for a tasty breakfast, which was definitely needed by then.

The couple were exhausted after the drama of the morning, and took a while to recover.  But it wasn't too long before they could see the funny side.  AND DETERMINED TO NEVER LET THAT HAPPEN AGAIN!