Feltwell
Member
- Messages
- 6,377
- Location
- Shropshire, England
I suppose actually I have got one worse than the Lego, and I can't blame the kids for this.
At my last house the burglar alarm went off at about 4am, due to a dodgy sensor it turned out. For those of you who have never had the experience, the internal sounder on a burglar alarm is extremely loud and piercing - so you go from fast asleep to wide awake in a nanosecond, and in my case the first thought was not "Where's the burglar?", it was "For Christ's sake turn that bl*&^dy noise off".
So I charge out onto the landing in the pitch black, nude, and promptly fall straight over a tool box I'd left there. Not just that, it was the cantilever type, full of very heavy tools - the bars that work the folding mechanism made contact with my toes, cutting them badly and tearing a nail out, before I go head first down the (mercifully) short flight of top stairs, before picking myself up, hobbling to the bottom and turning the alarm off.
At this point Mrs F appears, to the sight of a dishelleved, naked Mr F at the bottom of the stairs, hobbling around, swearing profusely and bleeding on the carpet.
I don't leave things at the top of the stairs any more!
At my last house the burglar alarm went off at about 4am, due to a dodgy sensor it turned out. For those of you who have never had the experience, the internal sounder on a burglar alarm is extremely loud and piercing - so you go from fast asleep to wide awake in a nanosecond, and in my case the first thought was not "Where's the burglar?", it was "For Christ's sake turn that bl*&^dy noise off".
So I charge out onto the landing in the pitch black, nude, and promptly fall straight over a tool box I'd left there. Not just that, it was the cantilever type, full of very heavy tools - the bars that work the folding mechanism made contact with my toes, cutting them badly and tearing a nail out, before I go head first down the (mercifully) short flight of top stairs, before picking myself up, hobbling to the bottom and turning the alarm off.
At this point Mrs F appears, to the sight of a dishelleved, naked Mr F at the bottom of the stairs, hobbling around, swearing profusely and bleeding on the carpet.
I don't leave things at the top of the stairs any more!