Shopping for gifts and the stuck door

Today we went shopping. Lyn had a long list of people for whom she wanted to purchase gifts. 

This was one of those days. When you are down, events usually conspire to kick you. Days of worry about the fires, and our own inability to do anything about them, have been made still worse by news that friends, and some of my students, have lost their homes. The Ancient History HSC examination went ahead, but with several of my students absent. I faced a day doing something I dreaded – shopping for gifts. I felt useless and exhausted, so after lunch I told Lyn I would go back to the apartment and meet her back at the Metro entrance next to the Hôtel de Ville at 3.30.

Returning to the flat I opened the door and somehow turned the key in a manner that forced the locking bar down. It jammed against the kitchen floor. The door was stuck in a half-open position. I was unable to either remove the key or to turn it so that the bar lifted. I had visions of, at best a very embarrassing phone call to Nastasja, the representative of the owner in Paris, and at worst, a very expensive visit from a locksmith. Worse, I had only about 90 minutes before I would have to make the choice between leaving the flat with the door open, or leaving Lyn to worry where I had got to. I dithered; I worried at the lock; I tried pushing and pulling the steel bar to unjam it; I tried turning the key hard, soft, quick, slow; I sweated; checked Nastasja’s phone number; and then repeated all of the above. Ultimately it occurred to me that the key would not turn because the bar was jammed against the floor. It had not stuck until it reached half way. Clearly the floor must be slightly higher there. I gave the door a wrench towards me; the bar scraped and then was miraculously clear. The key turned. I was saved.

I scurried back to the rendezvous with Lyn. On the way I passed a brilliant jazz band busking on the Pont Saint Louis. (I thought, “Lyn will love this”.) However, she was very late. I waited. I watched, fascinated, as two teachers escorted a class of kindergarten children in fluoro jackets down to the metro. I wondered about French school excursions. It rained. There was no shelter where we had agreed to meet, so I stood in the rain. Eventually Lyn arrived, flushed with success. We walked back to the bridge where the band and the crowd were now leaving, discouraged by the rain.

From this point the day improved.