The first incident of which I shall tell you took place in the 1970s. We lived on a small private development in Tunbridge Wells, which consisted of a mix of three-storey townhouses and flats, which were also arranged in three-storey buildings. This was a co-ownership scheme and the developers employed two men to take care of the gardens and communal areas. The junior of these two was about thirty and Irish and known to us all as Paddy. He was a perfectly nice man, but it has to be said that he was not about to compete for ‘Brain of Britain’.
One morning, one of our neighbours, Carol, locked herself out of her first-floor flat. The kitchen window was open, so she called upon Paddy to fetch a ladder and to ‘effect an entry’ on her behalf. Susan and I were discussing the situation with Carol, in the road in front of her flat whilst Paddy went up the ladder and in through the window. The next thing we heard was the SLAM of Carol’s front door as Paddy came out and closed it behind him! When he emerged from the building, looking very pleased with his efforts, Carol pointed out to him that her keys were still indoors and as he had closed the front door again she was no better off than before. Fortunately, he had not closed the window, so he just grinned amiably and went up the ladder again!