A prisoner in his own home (at last)

Finally, finally, finally, I managed to summon the patience and wherewithal to install a safety gate for Jamie. That was last night, and this morning, I am delighted to report it hasn't - as yet - fallen off its hinges.

Regular readers may remember that, many weeks ago, I made an attempt to put up a set of stair gates - only to find they were too narrow. So I did a bit of research and discovered that ready-made extensions were available for our particular make and model of stair gate - so I ordered two, costing a total of 20-odd quid.

They arrived a few days later (there was no postal strike on then) but, never one to rush into these things, I let them have a month off. But when I came to fit them, I found that, whilst they were for the same make and model as our gates, they were not for that make and model if made before 2006 (which ours were). And because I'd waited a month, it was too late to send them back. Excellent.

I put matters off for another little while before buying a different model of gate - although only one this time, because I was certain something would go wrong. And needless to say my hunch proved to be correct.

I eventually worked out that, because our house is so old and wonky, the only way to mount a gate at either the top or bottom of the stairs would be to attach one side to the banister - which is simply not strong enough and is also the wrong "shape" (I know what I mean).

So, after swearing for a couple more days, I had another brainwave: I would attach the gate to the living room door frame - the idea being that if we could keep Jamie in there, then he wouldn't be able to get to the hall and hence the stairs. Absolute genius, I'm sure you agree.

I pinpointed last Sunday morning as the moment of destiny and, after breakfast, got my tool bag out. Unfortunately, after making the necessary eight holes in the door frame in preparation for mounting the gate, it became apparent that I was about to put it up the wrong way round - forcing me to make eight new holes.

However, I'd started and was very determined to finish, come what may. And the first four screws went in without any great problem. I even began to feel a little cocky which, for me, is always the precursor to something going horribly wrong - which it promptly did when the head of screw five snapped off, leaving the remainder embedded in the wood.

But there was no way I would be defeated. So I found a single brass screw in my trusty tool bag, put it in instead and added screws six, seven and eight - and, bingo, the four brackets were firmly on the door frame. All that remained was to click the gate into place.

I managed to get the first three corners into their socket thingies easily enough. But, as you might expect, the final one was a greater challenge. So I forced it a bit - and broke the heads off the two screws holding the bracket to the wall.

Again, determined not to go to bed (it was only lunchtime at this stage) without this ****ing gate being up, I headed round to Asda to buy more screws - but they didn't have the ones I needed. So I gave up.

That was until last night when, following a quick visit to Wilko's earlier in the day, I arrived home with the right screws, fired them in and, well, the gate is up.

Jamie only had a few minutes to get used to his new impediment before it was time for his bath, so the reality hasn't yet dawned on him.

But there is one fact you can be absolutely sure of. As soon as he's worked out that this big white contraption is there to block his former right of way, he's going to turn on it. And he's going to break it.

Let's just hope, when the inevitable happens, his actions don't break me too.