There's not much chance of anyone being around to let me in to the office (my pass is with the keys) to retrieve them at nearly midnight. I text a colleague who often works late just in case, and it turns out she's just left. *dither* It's not very cold, I could probably sleep outside, but it's damp, and I wouldn't sleep well, and there are things I need inside the flat.
It's getting really unsociably late, but there are lights on in one of the front flats. I try the doorbell, and it's answered by someone I've never met before; apparently she's just moved in. So I confess my predicament, and she gets her boyfriend to give me my landlord's number. Then she takes pity on me and invites me in for tea and we chat a little; I really hope this inauspicious start will make it easier, not harder to get on in the future. Anyway, I take a deep breath and call the landlord, which I feel absolutely horrible about as he has young children. Thank heavens, he's awake enough to agree to bring the spare key over, so it all ends well.
And this is why my email address used to be