So much for seren­ity

The Riverine Herald - - NEWS - Mama May­hem

NOTE to self: never ever leave my car keys inside the ve­hi­cle be­fore clos­ing the door.

Be­cause it will lock. And it will set off the ear­split­ting alarm. In the mid­dle of par­adise.

Iron­i­cally, I had just driven twoand-a-half hours into the moun­tains to get 24 hours of peace and quiet.

My very spe­cial and gen­er­ous friend Laura and her hus­band Terry re­cently bought a hol­i­day house at Sawmill Set­tle­ment, just at the base of Mount Buller.

I know right? I def­i­nitely scored in the friend­ship stakes.

So Laura, be­ing the know­ing friend she is, calls me up on Tues­day morn­ing and tells me to pack my suit­case, my girls and my butt in the car and head on over after work for a night of bliss and a day in the snow. How could I re­sist? But things don’t al­ways go ac­cord­ing to plan when it comes to, well, me.

The ski re­treat is nes­tled in a charm­ing lit­tle moun­tain vil­lage, where you can lit­er­ally hear the rush of the river. Ahh the seren­ity. Not for long though. Too ex­cited to think clearly, I ac­ci­den­tally left my keys on the front seat of the car.

And when it closed, all hell broke lose as the alarm sounded.

The ca­coph­ony cut through the seren­ity like a dou­ble-edged sword.

Thank­fully, it stopped after about 30 sec­onds.

An­other thing to be thank­ful for was Terry, who is a bit of a handy man and re­as­sured me he could do ex­actly what the RACV guy would do and then charge me $50 be­cause I am not a mem­ber (an­other note to self: get an RACV mem­ber­ship).

So, here is Terry in his King G shorts, thongs and not much else, armed with a screw­driver, a piece of tim­ber and a cou­ple of coathang­ers — ready to save the day.

Light was fad­ing fast (plus I didn’t know what time the bot­tle shop would close) so there was no time to waste.

Terry jim­mied the edge of the door with the screw­driver and eased the cor­ner open with the tim­ber be­fore stick­ing the wire down the small gap. Sim­ple right? Wrong.

After four at­tempts — in­clud­ing pick­ing up the keys only to drop them on the floor, try­ing to open the door latch which set off the alarm, press­ing the un­lock but­ton on the door only to set off the alarm again and then un­suc­cess­fully try­ing to press the un­lock but­ton on the key — Terry’s blood pres­sure wasn’t look­ing too good.

But he wasn’t go­ing to let it beat him. After about 30 min­utes, he fi­nally man­aged to pick the keys up off the floor and slide them through the gap in the win­dow. Phew. His mas­culin­ity re­mained in­tact. Or maybe he was just after a hug and kiss from me. Who could blame him though?

Any­way, I am pretty sure I have now ru­ined Laura and Terry’s rep­u­ta­tion as ‘‘the lovely quiet fam­ily’’ among their new­found neigh­bours who will be sure to make noise com­plaints next time I rock up.

Need­less to say, I am pretty sure I won’t be in­vited over again any time soon.

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