For some time now I have been putting up with my bunch of keys and the laws of gravity being applied to them. In particular my car key which has, with some frustration on my part, crashed to the floor too many times now and has been broken.
The cause of my annoyance is that the main ring or clip has been used all too often and is now in a semi open state. It is my fault of course, whenever I want to go for a run I do not want my bunch of keys rattling away in my very small key pocket nor do I wish to carry the said keys for 13 or so kilometres. I do waffle, but I am coming to my point. I needed a solution in the form of a particular key ring to defy the gravitational forces and meet my demanding requirements.
Cue the search for a solution, I thought maybe something like the image below or even better the one below that.
Normally I would go to the internet and find one on Amazon and just order it, but no! I thought I would go to the local economy and do my bit. It is then that my quest to defeat gravity turned into an altogether more formidable challenge.
What, I hear you ask, can be more challenging than defeating one the laws of physics? Simply this, finding and coordinating my somewhat empty schedule with the opening hours of the local cobbler, really.
I first took a combined visit to the supermarket more than a week ago (on a Friday). As I dropped by the supermarket I took the astronomically slight chance that the cobbler might be open and paid a visit. My next challenge was to communicate my requirement in Dutch, which was not really necessary but I do like to practice where I can and the cobbler paid me the compliment of playing along, up to a point. It became rapidly apparent that, although the planets had aligned in terms of opening hours, they were not quite in alignment in terms of having the said key holder in stock. "Not to worry" he said, in English by now, "I will order one if they are still available and you can come in next Friday to collect it. Don't worry if you don't as I will just sell it to some other customer." I should have noted the cautionary 'if they are still available' but I am an optimist at heart.
I duly departed and went on to buy the weekly groceries. I had been to the bank where, on my second visit, I had collected a new bank card that took two weeks to produce as it had to travel across the Sahara desert on a lame camel.
I waited, excitedly for the week and, the following Friday I joyfully drove into town to go and pick up my treasure. First slight hiccup, he was closed for lunch. I decided that the 1/2 hour or so was too long to wait and I resolved to pick it up the next time I was passing. I noted the opening hours, but to my eternal shame I paid no attention, particularly to the mythical opening hours that require tarot cards and a crystal ball to see.
The next occasion I was in town was the following Monday. As I approached I saw that the lights were not on and, if I am honest with you, I did swear just a little bit. I acknowledged that this was the usual weekly closing day in place of having to endure a hectic trading on the Saturday, he must have been overwhelmed. I sulked off and did my grocery shopping again.
As it happens I had failed to successfully complete the grocery shopping on Monday, despite taking a photograph of the items I needed to get. I blame my petulant mood for my missing to procure the mayonnaise and cocktail sauce. I am on first name terms with the Delhaize staff, although they don't know it. I think they may be offended when I refer to them as: Dopey, Grumpy, Sneezy, Bashful, Sleepy, Doc and Happy (when I am in a good mood) or Irritable, Ignorant, Tetchy, Violent, Careless, Useless and Vacant (when my mood is off). Anyway, I felt obliged to go back into town if only to ensure that the staff of Delhaize did not somehow forget who I was.
I made my way from the car park, having displayed my blue card (with the time on it), across the bridge (minding out for trolls and angry ducks) and then up to the main square and round the corner. To my devastation I observed the lack of electric lighting in the window of the cobblers, was he unable to pay his bills, was he somehow now lying in darkness unable to call for help? No. A curt message in the neat form of a white Dymo label declared that the shop was closed, exceptionally I presume so that he could attend the lodge meeting of the Absent Cobblers Guild of Belgium. Either that or some other customer had ambushed him with loose keys, and even now the police were investigating how much force is required to embed a Yale key into the forehead of someone and noting the slightly less force required to embed a broken car key into his rectal passage. Defeated I walked off swearing at anyone within 30 feet, much to their surprise.
Today I had a Dutch lesson and, near the end I briefly explained my frustration with the opening hours of the cobbler. Directly, I proceeded from my lesson to the said shop. As fanfares blared and fireworks blasted off all around me (in my head) I burst forth into the shop. I was slightly perturbed that the Grand Master of the Absent Cobblers Guild failed to recognise me without my usual clowns costume and donkey ears. I needed to remind him of my mission and I did so in Dutch. It was then that he confirmed my worst fears, "they don't do them any more". Now for most people I would imagine that you think the shop became a scene of horrifying murder and obscene key assault, it didn't. By now I simply said thank you and left, thinking that this is why the shops are closing down around Aarschot. My protest, frustration or other entreaty would be fruitless when compared to the power that is the combined force of opening hours and availability of stock.
Needless to say I shall be ordering the item from Amazon today as I should have done from the outset.
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