I knock on the door.
I bang on the door.
I KICK the door.
Then I get out my mobile phone and call the house number. Eerie to be within earshot of the phone I'm ringing. The phone rings six or seven times then goes on to BT CallMinder. I hang up and phone again. In all, I phone four times.
I am just about to move on to Plan C (hurling a rock through Mark's window) when Owen runs up from the direction of the station and unlocks the door.
When we meet Mark in the hall, it transpires that he did hear the phone ring four times but 'I wanted to listen to my music'. Apparently it did not percolate through into his frankly MINUSCULE brain that when someone rings FOUR TIMES it might POSSIBLY be SLIGHTLY URGENT, so he continued to SMOKE CANNABIS and listen to WISH YOU WERE HERE. Well I wished I was THERE. IN MY HOUSE. DAMMIT.
(Don't worry, I haven't been out there for the past two hours; I had supper then went to Tesco.)
NB: Mark my housemate is in no way related to or affiliated with the zorac of the same name, who by all accounts is an absolute delight to cohabit with.