Visitors in the night

I have just read a story from the Northern Territory. It seems that a bloke was so drunk that he wandered into the wrong house, took a shower and sat down on the front verandah where the cops took him away to sober up. Read about it here.

We experienced a similar event about 20 years ago when we lived in our grand colonial house in Bicton. Our daughter, Helen, had her boyfriend James visit. Joan and I went to bed leaving them watch TV, or whatever young couples do.

Around 2am there was a loud knocking on the front door, I got up and couldn’t find my glasses, but opened the door where ‘James’ pushed past me exclaiming that ‘it’s bloody cold out there’. He went down the hallway and entered Helen’s room. I was a bit offside with his attitude and decided to talk to Helen in the morning. Back in bed, Joan suggested they may have had an argument and James had stormed off and after chilling down couldn’t get back in.

In the morning I put on my annoyed face and talked to Helen about James’ attitude. “James went home at about 9pm’ said Helen.

Four of us; Kev, Joan, Helen and Martin started looking in all the rooms and found a young man asleep on a lounge, his shoes and socks neatly arranged next to him on the floor. No one recognised him.

I gave him a bit of a poke with my foot and he jumped up asking ‘what time is it…I’ve got to be at work by 8.30’. ‘Could you give me a lift into Fremantle?’ ‘Sorry mate, no lift for you’, and he put his shoes on and waited at the front door to be let out. We all watched in amazement as he careered across the busy highway to the nearest bus stop.

As we sat down to breakfast the talk turned to axe murderers, rapists and just plain thieves.