Divine salvation

Avid readers of my previous resoconti will instantly recall the drama attached to my two previous experiences of being on the wrong side of a locked door without a stitch to save me. 

There was the incident at Perth’s Burswood Casino Hotel when I found myself reading the daily newspaper outside my locked room completely stark naked with absolutely no means of doing anything other than walking the corridors in search of housemaids with nothing to show for credentials other than what was obvious.

The other was the trauma of the treacherous climb over very unstable titles perched forty-five metres above the bitumen roadway in the medieval village, Giulionello outside Rome when the wind blew the kitchen window closed, jettisoning my plated pane from the window sill onto the roadway below and my efforts to clear the jagged debris from the roadway resulted in me finding myself dressed rather modestly in shorts and slippers on the wrong side of a locked door in the main thoroughfare in the village.

Well, they say calamities occur in threes. And they are correct!

I was house sitting my son, Simon’s, house and his big, strong labrador last week before flying out to a new adventure in the Territory when the same thing happened! At least this time I was, more or less, more respectfully clad (at least to a degree!) The shorts I was wearing had no visible or invisible means of support which is to say that I had to hold them up to prevent them from dropping to my ankles. You see, I have lost a fair amount of weight (five kilos to be precise) and I had removed my belt in the process of getting ready to duck into the shower on this forty-four degree day when my son, who was holidaying near the Snowy Mountains in New South Wales, messaged me that it was bins day and reminding me to put the bins out for refuse collection.

You see, he had previously reminded me (he says on at least fifty occasions, the most recent just five minutes previously) that the doors are self-locking and that it is mandatory that one carries a key when exiting either the front or back door. Of course I was fully familiar with the routine so when I charged out the back door to take the bins to the street I was saying to nobody in particular: “The first thing this kid MUST do when he gets home is to make sure he has sufficient keys to plant one outside in the event that someone (NOT necessarily ME) gets caught in a situation, the consequences of which I was so painfully aware of.

[Aside: Of course this is the shortened version of the saga! I had made three attempts to get spare keys cut to avoid what I considered to be absolutely inevitable! It transpired that the keys were ancient. The security key locksmith informed me that they had ceased manufacture of that particular “blank” ten years ago and that there were none available anymore. I had actually called in to his workshop to confirm this so I was clearly aware of the consequences: viz my son is interstate with no keys. I am occupying his house with the only two keys in existence. Should I get caught outside with the door locked what would we do? Well – we were about to find out!]

There was extreme heat this day so every window was closed firmly with the air-conditioner working to keep the house liveable. I was certain that I had a key in my pocket when closing the back door behind me – I had it in my pocket a few minutes previously when I had taken the dog out for a leak before inviting him back inside. Of course I double checked the location of the key-in-the-pocket AFTER closing the door instead of slightly BEFORE and, of course, I was gobsmacked to find my pocket empty! Sans key!

I knew, instantly, that I was fucked! Here was I, prancing around the back yard talking to God, seeking some sign, something that could help ease my anxiety in the situation. Not only was I outside in forty degree heat with no way of getting inside, desperately holding up my falling down pants while a dog, the size of a pony, was basking momentarily in air-conditioned comfort but unable to get outside – with all of the good soft furnishings at his beck-and-call, waiting to be chewed to bits – as he is prone to do when left unsupervised!

I double checked each window. Did a fabulous job of ensuring that no cooled air escaped from inside to outside. Absolutely no prospect of gaining burglar-type entry. No good smashing a window because that would only mean more work to get a glazier out to replace it. The only option was to call a locksmith to come and provide access, but how do I call a locksmith – anybody – when my phone is inside and I am outside. No other option than to go next door – a half naked derelict-looking old codger trying desperately to prevent exposing himself by clinging doggedly to falling down shorts saying to a complete stranger who I had never seen before: “Look mate it’s like this. My son is in the Eastern highlands, his dog, the size of a small horse, is inside eating the furniture. I am having a bit of a struggle with my dacks but I was wondering if I could borrow your phone to call somebody to get me inside the house next door.” Whoever I might get on the line can’t call me back so I am buggered if I know when or even whether he can come, I haven’t had tea yet and the prospect is that I’ll be spending the night alfresco and the dog will be sleeping on whatever bedding survives his distress.

I was about to summon up the courage for this encounter when I heard my name being called from the clouds far away! I was certain that someone whose voice I recognised was calling my name! How can this be happening? The only explanation is the Almighty had heard by cries for his help, had focussed his attention on my whereabouts and was trying to talk to me! I have always been a believer but I confess that I did have serious doubts that my prayers would be answered, well at least until NOW! But who else could it possibly be? None of the neighbours know my name, or that I exist at all. The ONLY person other than the Almighty is a thousand kilometres away on the Eastern coast of the country!

So, I said: “Yes Lord. This is me, Bryan, and I need your help right now!” as I stepped as close as I could to that cloud in the sky above the garage where the voice was coming from.

And the voice said: “I have noticed that you are roaming aimlessly and anxiously around the back yard and trying your best to crack open a window. You have obviously locked yourself out of the house. I told you a thousand times that you CANNOT leave the house without the door key!” I replied: “Lord, I acknowledge everything you’ve said. I did not disregard your advice. I hold myself totally and solely responsible for what has happened and I need your assistance to call a locksmith to save me. What can I do?” Then the voice in the cloud said: “Dad, you disobeyed me. I told you NOT to leave the house without the key and you did! Then he said: “I have called Mum and told her what has happened. Now I am going to call a locksmith to get you into the house.” Of course I then said: “if you are really Simon, my son, who is in the Australian Alps in New South Wales right now, how come you are in this cloud watching everything I am doing?” Then the voice said: “Look up on the garage roof. See the little camera with the blue light on? That’s me, I am watching what’s going on with my phone. I have an app that lets me see what’s going on in the backyard. I knew that you would lock yourself out eventually and I figured the most likely time for it to occur is when I reminded you to take out the bins so I watched to see what happens.”

Now he can make up any explanation he likes but he won’t ever get me to think that I wasn’t saved by divine intervention.

PS. When the emergency locksmith appeared he was successful in getting me inside but that wasn’t anywhere near as daunting as the fact that, when I explained that the keys could never, ever be duplicated because they no longer manufacture that blank profile he said: “I think I know this key system and they don’t make them anymore but would you believe that I have three of the last ever blanks right here in my van?” So, we DID get our extra keys after all. Now, no one is going to have me believe that my son in the highlands knew to call the only locksmith on the planet who could provide an enduring solution to this problem! I know who was talking to me from the cloud above the shed and I know who it was who called the locksmith and no one will ever convince me I am wrong.

Bryan Forby

11 January 2026