It says a lot
about the state of paranoia I live in that when someone rings the doorbell, my
first thought is ‘IT’S THE POLICE’.
This may suggest I have a guilty conscience. I haven't, though it’s best not to ask why I recently re-tarmacked my drive. I’ve just become so conditioned into not receiving visitors that when there’s a knock at the door, I only assume the worst.
The plus side to living in a block of flats (the drive bit was a lie) is that anyone who wants to see me has to get past a security door first. Provided they don’t arrive before midday, when they can gain access by pressing the services button. So if I ever commit a crime, I need to make sure it remains undetected until the early afternoon. Then I’ll have time to climb out of the bathroom window to make my escape. I’d still have to walk past the front door to get away, but I’d have a head start.
A few years back, I was 'knocked up' by the law (not like that). They were going from door-to-door to see if anyone in the area had any concerns – or at least, that’s what they told me. They were probably scouting me out to see if I acted suspiciously. I knew hanging my football boots over the power cable outside was a mistake.
This morning’s unscheduled visitor was the postman. When I saw him, I let out a sigh of relief – once I’d caught my breath back from vaulting through the bathroom window and running halfway up the street. Next time, I’ll look through the spyhole first.
This may suggest I have a guilty conscience. I haven't, though it’s best not to ask why I recently re-tarmacked my drive. I’ve just become so conditioned into not receiving visitors that when there’s a knock at the door, I only assume the worst.
The plus side to living in a block of flats (the drive bit was a lie) is that anyone who wants to see me has to get past a security door first. Provided they don’t arrive before midday, when they can gain access by pressing the services button. So if I ever commit a crime, I need to make sure it remains undetected until the early afternoon. Then I’ll have time to climb out of the bathroom window to make my escape. I’d still have to walk past the front door to get away, but I’d have a head start.
A few years back, I was 'knocked up' by the law (not like that). They were going from door-to-door to see if anyone in the area had any concerns – or at least, that’s what they told me. They were probably scouting me out to see if I acted suspiciously. I knew hanging my football boots over the power cable outside was a mistake.
This morning’s unscheduled visitor was the postman. When I saw him, I let out a sigh of relief – once I’d caught my breath back from vaulting through the bathroom window and running halfway up the street. Next time, I’ll look through the spyhole first.