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Knock Knock

[ 2 minute read ]

Opinion

A couple of things. Someone knocked on my front door last night at a quarter to nine, 20:45 o'clock; you know when the big hand is on the 45 and the little hand is on the 20; except it would be closer to the 21. That is a nod to the schools which have removed analogue clocks because they have discovered that many school kids can't tell the time.

I didn't have time to answer the door immediately and when I did I spotted a parked car with its lights on almost directly outside my house. Despite me putting on the exterior light the driver didn't notice I had come to the door and drove off. Oh my Good Crikeyness! How could someone do that to someone with a fertile imagination who is not expecting any visitors. It didn't keep me awake but I did fantasise a bit.

Ooh! Someone has realised I am fascinating and just has  to spend a few minutes in my presence. Perhaps they wanted to take me to the theatre, or just fill me up with alcohol in the local pub and hear my slurred utterances of uninhibited wisdom. Perhaps, someone needs my help to rescue a broken down car or coax someone from a motorway flyover bridge. Did the person knocking on my door last night read one of my OU Personal Blog posts that said I was going to take ballroom dancing lessons and mash it up with modern funky dancing, and they themselves thought they might give me a lift to a place of our mutually shared hobby?

Of course, a few fleeting ideas brushed my consciousness but I chased them away because I eschew banality. Did their drone crash-land in my garden? Did they want to buy my neighbour's car but think I own it? It happens a lot. 

I am much more inclined to invent and dwell on the fantastic. Were they looking for their cat which my neighbour stole to use in some kind of spell to be normal, a spell he thinks the rest of us have all spun for ourselves? Do I have a long lost relative that has just flown in from a remote airport after having been wandering in a jungle? Was it a manifestation of a spiritual warning that I failed to receive? Has someone secretly enrolled me in the Postcode Lottery and I won? The best of all would be if it was the girl I fell in love with while we were at school and loved for the next ten years without us ever getting it together knocking on my door and falling into my grateful arms when she says, 'You haven't changed a bit; you are gorgeous!' But, oh dear, she has gone.

In reality, I have to surmise that it was just a fast-food delivery person trying to deliver to the wrong address but was redirected by the real recipient before I answered the door.