“Can I borrow Ten Pence?”

It was  our first Summer in Whitley Bay. This one particular sunny day we were sitting on our driveway midafternoon, soaking up the sunshine and talking to the owners in the adjacent Bed & Breakfast. As we chatted a middle-aged gentleman toddled down the road. Swaying merrily along with his suitcase in tow, he squinted at the names on the signs above our B&B and the one next door. It was plainly obvious that he had consumed a few drinks on his journey…. A few too many I thought! Luckily, so I thought at the time, he managed to work out, after fumbling through a few bits of paperwork, that he was staying at my neighbour’s.

I sniggered to Liz and said, “I’m glad he’s not staying with us”, as the owner’s ushered the gentleman into theirs to check him in.

“I’ll think they’ll have their work cut out with that one!” Liz said as she raised her eyebrows and smirked at me.

We sat there a little longer enjoying a few hours downtime and watching the world go past. This is the life I thought, got all my work in the B&B done early, didn’t have to go to work that evening and the sun was shining… what more could I want?

2am that morning the doorbell rings. Bearing in mind it was a Tuesday morning, I was not really expecting anyone getting me out of bed. On a weekend, after guests had taken advantage of the buzzing Whitley Bay nightlife, you expected that every once in a while, or more typically every weekend, someone would have lost a key or was so drunk they had forgotten how to use a key and they would get you out of bed.

Our bedroom was on the ground floor. We had to walk from our bedroom, through our lounge and then out of the door into the hallway and through to the porch door to open the front door. I nipped out in my boxer shorts, planning to maintain my dignity by hiding behind the front door and just pop my head round to see why a person was knocking at my door at that hour.

As I peaked round the door, the gentleman who had checked into our neighbour’s property earlier was stood there, swaying to and fro, and side to side.

“Yes” I said abruptly.

“Your key doesn’t work” he slurred from six foot away, the fumes from his breath easily reaching me in the fresh morning air.

“My keys work fine thanks” I replied “The reason your key doesn’t work is coz you are not actually staying here…. you are staying next door!”

He looked bemused. I hopped out from behind the door, still in my boxers remember, grabbed his key off him, hopped across the wall and opened the door. I grabbed his arm and literally dragged him across the wall and pushed him through the door, gently of course. From there he would have to find his own way to his room.

I hopped back across the wall, nipped in through the front door, which I had left ajar. Bear in mind that we had a lock on every door for security. As I closed the front door behind me, the air vacuum caused the porch door to click shut. Great, so now I was stuck in my boxer shorts between the front door and the porch door. Obviously, without any keys, I now had no option than ring the bell and get Liz out of bed.

A little while later out comes Liz, in her dressing gown, realises I’m am stuck in the porch and opens the porch door for me. I rolled my eyebrows and began to tell her the tale. As I close the porch door, our lounge door clicks shut! I look at Liz, Liz looks at me and guess what we are now both locked out. Our two children fast asleep in the back would firstly never hear the doorbell or would come and see what was happening even if they did.

I needed a plan….. I told Liz to stay there at the lounge door…I nipped back outside, across the wall to next door and banged on the door….. remember still in my boxer shorts. At first, I heard nothing. The owners lived in a house at the bottom of the street, so I know they would not answer. I was hoping that maybe, just maybe the drunk man I had “helped” through the front door, was still staggering around inside. I banged again. No answer. As I turned to hop back across the wall, the door opened. I didn’t think I was going to be pleased to see the drunken idiot again, but under the circumstances, his appearance was a relief.

“Can I borrow 10p” I asked him

Looking bemused and also very drunk, he said “yeah of course”. Rummaging amongst his pockets and swaying backwards and forwards, he eventually managed to produce a shiny 10p. I snatched it from his hand skirmished past him to the payphone located further down the hall.

Ring, ring….ring, ring…..ring, ring…….eventually Maggie my sister in law answered. I briefly explained the situation and asked her if I could borrow a few tools so I could break into our own lounge. “No problem” she said….” could you come and get them?”…..before I had time to explain I was in my boxer shorts, the phone cut off….out of credit.

I sprinted down the street, about 300 yards bare feet in my boxers to hers and collected the tools. Maggie looked at me a little strange as I was half naked, I just shook my head and said don’t ask! I didn’t want to hang around, I just thanked her and ran back up the street. Glad the police didn’t see me… not sure how I would explain running around the streets naked, with a handful of tools in the early hours of a Tuesday morning.

On returning to our B&B, where Liz was waiting patiently, I got out the cordless drill and put in a drill bit and started to drill the lock. I don’t know if anyone has tried to drill a lock on a wooden door in the quiet middle of the night……but it was very loud…. very, very loud.

As I stood there in my boxers drilling a lock whilst Liz stood watching, a couple of guests appeared “Everything ok?” one of them asked. Liz said “Yes fine, sorry to disturb you” …I don’t think she could even begin to explain what was happening. The two guests just smiled, waved, and disappeared back to bed.

What seemed like an eternity went by and eventually I drilled the lock and managed to open the door. A few hours sleep and then on with another day.

As I waved off a guest from our front door that morning after breakfast, who should appear from next door but the gentleman who had knocked me up in the middle of the night.

“Morning” he said to me, as bright as a daisy, like nothing had happened.

“Morning….. don’t give me morning! Do you remember what happened last night?” I snarled at him.

Taking a minute to think, he said “Yes, I do, I lent you 10p”

“Lent me 10p…..do you know why you lent me 10p?”

“Nope…. Can’t remember”

I proceeded to tell him the story, to which he had no recollection apart from the 10p, and demanded that he paid for a new lock for the door. Which he did and even offered to buy me a drink or two!

Thank God for payphones in those days.