It's one thing to get home from work and find that your wife has changed the locks. It's another to find the whole front door gone.
This was the scene when I left for work this morning...
And this was what I came back to...
Not only did my key no longer fit, but the doorbell was gone too. I knock-knocked for a bit, but frankly it was no joke, so in the end I was forced to phone Lisa on my mobile and beg her to take me back. She opened the door thirty seconds later. It took twenty of those to work out how the lock worked.
We've actually been blessed with that new front door by the council, who presumably felt that if I'm going to take to the witness stand this summer, we could do with something capable of withstanding a few reprisal attacks. This one's so secure that we can barely open it, never mind the burglars.
It was fitted this afternoon by a bloke called Ian. I was at work at the time, but Amelie apparently woke up from her lunchtime nap while the job was in full swing, took one look down the hallway, and said:
"They're making me a new house!"
She'll be expecting a garden next.