If my time IN Chamonix was great (and for those of you still wondering: I did kind of get what I wanted for Christmas!) then the time between leaving Chamonix and getting into my flat was a lot less great. Not disasterous, just annoying.

The trouble started when I realised that I didn't have the house keys for my Shepherds Bush bachelor pad. When I got my bags out of the van that took us to the airport I got a sinking feeling that the pocket on my backpack where I had put my keys was the one that was lolling open in a very empty kind of way. Hmmm. A frantic check, double check, triple check of all my pockets confirmed that wherever my keys were, they weren't on me. Now normally I panic in these situations but my feel-good holiday mojo was still working. So I made a few calls.

Call 1 was to Alex and Jonny. Once upon a time they had spare keys for my flat but I was pretty certain that Lucy had come to get them one time and I had not returned them. But maybe I could get a place to stay for the night. Unfortunately there was a chance that they might be in Dorset. Or Yorkshire. And there was no answer when I rang.

Call 2 then was to my Aunt Anne in Oxford hoping that she would:
A. Be in
B. Be in Oxford
C. Be willing to put me up for the night
Luckily she was all 3. Thanks Aunty! At least I knew I had a place to stay, even if it would be a palaver to get there from Luton.

Call 3 was to Peter and Eleanor. They also had a spare set of keys but again I couldn't remember if I had returned them after the last time I had got locked out. (I'm a bit useless aren't I?) Rang the mobile and got the answering machine. I explained my predicament.

Call 4 was to Alex and Jonny on the land line. Joy! They were in and despite having a house full of grandparents and 2 children under 3 they offered me a sofa. I thanked them profusely and rang my aunt to stand her down.

Just then I got an incomming call. It was Peter who was on the way to Stratford to see The Canterbury Tales. He was full of confidence that they had my spare keys.
JJ: Hoorah!
But they were in Malvern all week.
JJ: Arsebiscuits!
But their estate agent in London had a set of keys and they could ring them in the morning.
JJ: Hoorah!
Hang on - they had double locked the door and the estate agent wouldn't be able to open it.
JJ: Bum!

Peter wasn't to be daunted by that set back and we agreed to speak when I was back in Blighty. What a mate!

The flight from Geneva proved to be relatively crash free and we were certainly better off than the EasyJet flight to Gatwick at the gate next to ours which got cancelled just as the passengers were ready to board. Nice.

Back in Blair's Britain and it seems the transport system is being assailed by, erm , snow. Queue chaos on the Thameslink and lines to all points south. I arrive on Platform 3 at Luton and listen to automated announcements that the next train is getting later and later. Things have come to a pretty pass when they need to automate the voice that spends its time explain that trains are late. The odds shorten briefly as the train comes in from 18 minutes late to 15 minutes late. But it still makes sense to hump my skis and bag over to platform 1 for the next scheduled arrival.

Another automated announcement tells the growing throng that the next train at platform 1 will be the 21.20 to Brighton. Great, I thought. Hmmm, I thought as I saw a train pull in at Platform 3. "Platform Alteration" is the next mechanised message and we all rush for the stairs. The fastest people have just made it to the top of the bridge over the lines when the train pulls away and leaves. Quite extraordinary. An American gent next to me was absolutely gobsmacked. I was going to say that this is the sort of thing we expect from our trains but even I thought it was shocking. Oh Brunel, where art thou?

In the end another train did turn up and I made it through to Alex and Jonny's. Sleep - lovely.

There was no way I could go to work the next day so on the plus side I did get another day's holiday and spent the morning with A & J, my delightful god-daughter Jessica and her 6 week old bro, Tom, which was lovely. In the course of the morning I struck a plan with Peter and Eleanor. They suggested we meet half way: if I went up to Oxford then they could come down from Malvern, give me their keys and I could go back to London, go to their flat, find my keys and at last get back to my place.

So that's what we did and I even managed to bump into Andy Mulligan in Oxford who's in the panto there so it was a great day for seeing friends. And I need to put on public record that I have the best friends in the world! Peter and Eleanor for comming all that way; Alex and Jonny for putting me up. Thanks so much guys. And while we are at it - Jamie Reid for the most thoughtful Christmas present I've ever received (more on that another time).

Thank you all.

I finally got back into my flat about 24 hours later than I should have. It was so great to be home and I've learned there's no more wonderful sound than the comforting rattle of keys.