Wake up call

Just returned from a week in Israel with work. On the Wednesday night I was woken by someone knocking at my door at 3am. I was travelling alone so it wasn't a colleague and I hadn't visited the Irish pub so I was pretty certain I hadn't been tracked down by one of the prostitutes known to hang around the environs of that place. The knocking was quietly insistent but I was far too tired to get up and answer the door. I did manage to grunt "What?" as this took less effort than "Will you just bugger off?" Anyway, they seemed to get the message because off they did bugger.

When I came out my room for breakfast the next morning I found an ironing board outside. And an iron. What sort of cretin was trying to return an ironing board I had never lent at 3am in the morning?

Mrs Alf was so looking forward to my return that she went out to lunch with her visiting parents leaving a key in the playhouse to let myself in. TFD at least seemed pleased to see me although even he managed to restrain his excitement. I'm not sure whether to be worried that I felt a slight pang of disappointment at the lack of a yellow stream of joy greeting my arrival.