Yesterday I accidentally locked the Boy du Jour into the flat for the second time. In protest he shaved his beard off, which was a very strange thing to come home to. I was so surprised that I walked straight into the (closed) kitchen door, knocking myself silly and narrowly escaping a self-inflicted black eye.
On the plus side, once the severity of the de-bearding had been explained, the building's managing agents agreed to pay for the cost of getting the lock fixed. Small mercies, right?
Thursday 19 June 2008
The Prisoner: Redux
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