The John’s or not the John’s – or was it the 13th?

The John’s Trophy is a Bowls England Inter County knockout competition played on ‘neutral’ greens all over the country on a set date in the summer calendar. I had the honour to be picked, after trialling, for the Devon team.

We had already played Dorset and Wiltshire and won so we were to face Somerset at Yeovil BC on Tuesday 13 July. This was an important game, the qualifier for Leamingotn and the National Semi-Final.

I usually pack my bowls bag with the usual County garb the night before the event, so that there is no rush. Control the controllable, that’s the motto passed to me by Sue Harriot, veteran of the Commonwealth Games. But, as the coach was not leaving ISCA until 11.15am I had plenty of time, or so I thought. Plenty of time to slip to the little Tesco Express at the bottom of the road and get a prawn salad for my team-mate and me for lunch on arrival at the green.

At 10am we put the bowls bags in the boot of my new car and shut the lid down. I went to unlock the drivers door and guess what????? I had shut my keys in the boot.

Fortunately my Mother who loves to attend these games, she’s an avid spectator, was with me. I told her what I had done and she said that it was OK because she………. rummaging through her handbag realises that she has left her keys indoors – and then the horror of it begins to take shape, the back door is locked.

We are locked out of the car and out of the house, where the spare key for the car is. How am I going to get to the game?

Panic, run around and panic, for a short time. I have my handbag on my shoulder – best thing to do is phone Julia and tell her the situation, no prawn salad. Then phone the County Secretary to tell her the situation. I explain that I will climb up a neighbours ladder, get in through my bedroom window and be off in a short while – no problem.

The ladder is duly set against the house and I get half way up it only to realise that I hate ladders, so I freeze. Halfway up the contraption I am stuck. I can’t go up or down. I must have looked a sorry site clinging to the ladder. Fortunately there are some sane people left in the world who manage to talk me down to ground level. I am shaken and stirred, as Bond wouldn’t say.

All I can say is, it’s a good job the rain was holding off.

We need a locksmith – we need a locksmith to break into the house. Its 10.30 already. Borrow the neighbour’s yellow pages. Call three local locksmiths and get no reply. Call the fourth – he is 30 minutes away. OK that will have to do.

Call the County Secretary to advise I will not be making the coach at ISCA, but will travel in my car to Yeovil, just 50 miles away. Call Julia to say that she will have to get her own lunch and could she get something for Mum and me, I’ll pay her back.

You’ve guessed it, the locksmith turns up, he’s on time, and he tinkers with the back door and can’t get it open. He tinkers with the front door and can’t get it open. I’m beginning to think that the 13th is not my day at all.

Poor lad, in the end he has to drill the front door lock out and at 11.30 we manage to get in the house. I’ve got an hour and a half to get to the game.

Is the house going to be secure? How long will it take to mend the lock? It turns out that it is only another couple of minutes and we can be on our way.

I retrieve the spare keys – open the car, that’s fine now. Back to the house and pay the chap for his services. Pick myself up from the floor after he tells me how much and he won’t take a cheque, its card only.

£140 – £95 for the call-out the rest is labour and a new lock. A very expensive lesson has been learned.

Zoom Zoom – off to Yeovil – I actually beat the coach there as they had got lost in Yeovil, and we saw them, waving and tooting on the last roundabout before the green. From the look on their faces through the windows they are pleased to see me.

I am the duty victim over lunch and of course there is a lot of joking and banter, but we go out onto the green in fine form. We lost overall by 14 shots, but we had a great game on our rink against Margaret Dyer of Clevedon BC, and just managed to clinch it on the last end. Well done team.

So what is the moral to this story: Always have spare keys???? But where do you put them???? Its no good hiding them in the garden, or the garage. It’s a dilemma, but I think we have solved it. Mum swallowed hers. Lets wait and she what she unlocks.

That’s all folks

I’m never going up another ladder, I’ll stick to chairs.

Terri