Locksmithing and Security

If you’ve read the local locksmiths page of the main site, you’ll have read the little rant there about traders and call centres who flood the internet with sites claiming to be local locksmiths. Of course they’re not. They won’t get to in any reasonable time; in fact they won’t get to you at all; they’ll sub the job out to the nearest botcher on their books.

If you actually want a local trader, you’re better off doing a little checking–on the number for example. If it’s not a London number (or your local area code) then they’re not a local locksmith. If there’s only a mobile number, then check the fax number. Check the coverage claimed. If it’s every postcode in London and the home counties, for example, then they’re not your local locksmith. If they haven’t provided a geographic address on their website, then they’re flouting the Electronic Trading law.

This extra little rant was because I just spotted a “Clapham Locksmith” web site that does give a geographic address, but it’s in North London in Muswell Hill! Now that’s the other side of London from Clapham; and London is quite a big city.

I’ve had two weeks where almost every job suffered some kind of bugger factor and required a followup visit. Nobody’s fault; these things just happen; and they come in waves. You’ll have a week where you open five fire-safes and then you won’t see another for six months. You fit eight London bars in as many days, double your stock of them and then don’t get another request for weeks. But hey – the odd thing would be if there were no odd things.

Today, however, the gods were smiling. Initially it didn’t look good. It was pouring down and the door that needed opening had a lever lock and was set in an exposed wall. However I’d just bought a new, lined and hooded, hi-viz jacket that was still enjoying its waterproof flush of youth. I managed to park the van right outside, so I only needed to rust one expensive pick at a time. It turned out to be an uncurtained lock, which means that it could be picked in the traditional (easy) way. However–even better–the xxxxxxx keys which had been having a bad run and had not opened anything in months did the job.

Then I saw that the retaining screws had been completely burred over, meaning the lock wasn’t going to come out, and I’d have to make a return visit with the left-handed drill bits to drill the screws out (I’d neglected to put them back after using them in the workshop). But no. When I gave the screws an experimental whack with the sacrificial chisel the heads broke right off they were so rusty; and then they turned out not to be the retaining screws at all. Having wiped a cumulo-nimbus-worth of rain off my glasses, I saw they were just faceplate screws, with decent retaining screws underneath. And it wasn’t the old nasty Yale lever lock with plastic “springs” that I initially thought it might have been–was just weathering making it look so old–it was a newish Yale lever lock with a drop-in replacement available.

And the establishment turned out to be an inn. I was served a bowl of goulash, half a loaf of bread and a tankard of ale, by the fire, as well as my fee of course. (The tankard was small and it was the last job of the day.) Tra-la-la.

I’ve vowed a few times in the past, never again to do work for a landlord who isn’t going to be at the premises and forking out hard cash.

Yesterday I relented and agreed to go and fix a tenant’s lock and then to phone the landlord for a debit card payment. So I fixed the lock (unfortunately there were no parts needed which gives you at least some kind of hold over them); and then I phoned the landlord. No reply. Right I thought: I’m staying in this guy’s kitchen until she answers — all day if necessary. However the phone was answered on the third attempt. Card details were duly given. “Transaction declined.”

“Do you have another card?”, I said. “Look”, says she, “I’m in the Bahamas and about to board a plane. I’ll ring you and pay when I get back.” “Click”.

Sobbing quitely, the locksmith dejectedly shuffles back to his van. A passing gutter sweeping lorry’s brushes seem to be chanting, “Sucker. Sucker.”

The bad news is that the internet showed everyone and their aunt how to open your traditional locks.

The other bad news is that an unbelievably idiotic cylinder design became a European standard (the “Euro” profile cylinder).

The good news is that lock manufacturers have been spurred into creating some truly fearsome high-security locks, dealing with lock pickers and earlier idiotic lock designers.

The bad news is that it won’t be any good calling a locksmith to get you in if you’ve lost your keys to one of the next generation of locks. So if you do fit high-security locks give a spare key to a good friend who never goes out and never goes on holiday.

Not much to report, I’m afraid. Other than if there is a DESIGNER then HE/SHE/IT is pretty unintelligent. The gout I’ve suffered occasionally in my big toe seems to have moved on to my knee. This despite my having already given up the port and the pate de foie gras. So I haven’t been out much.

Unlike most animals we lack the enzyme to metabolize uric acid so it crystallizes in our joints. And the crystals are sharp. Believe you me.

So, along with male nipples, wisdom teeth, the human eye and many other examples, this tells me that if there is a divine designer, she (or he) is an incompetent one. The eye is an excellent example, as it’s sometimes held up to be evidence for the opposite position. But the eye has evolved separately in more than one evolutionary line; and in one line the nerves leave via the back of the retina. But in the human line, the nerves leave the retinal cells in the forward direction. In other words the light has to travel through the nerve bundles before it gets to the retina. In other words we humans’ vision is much worse than it could be.

Of course I’ve given up debating any of this with my delusional friends as by definition they are not interested in evidence or logic.

(And I was joking about the foie gras. While I’m happy to eat animals that have had a pleasant life, I’m not willing to eat animals who’ve been deliberately tortured.)

If ever you get into your Citroen Berlingo, slam the door closed and then hear someone shooting at you, I can report that it probably wasn’t a pistol shot but the sound of one of the front suspension coil spring shuffling off its mortality.

They are known for it apparently. Suddenly — crack, and it’s in pieces. Citroen even had a recall. Ah, you suppose: to replace the coil springs. No. To fit a cup so that when they go, they find it a tad more difficult to stab into your tyres!

I’ve been playing around sorting my own front door out. You know the saying: the cobbler’s kids are the poorest shod.

Well someone in the family lost their keys and I went to change the cylinder. (Which we can do for you of course. And maybe for less than you think. If anyone tells you you’ll need a new lock, say no and come to us. We’ll change the cylinder or the levers at a third of the price.)

Ever since we’ve moved in, I’ve vaguely noted the locks weren’t that well fitted. It’s always a fiddly business, lining up the cylinder with the lock but this just wouldn’t have it. I squinted through the hole and saw that the lock backplate was miles off centre. The backset (distance from door edge to cylinder centre) turned out to be 35 mm for a 40 mm backset Yale #2 lock. It’s a miracle (and a thick door) that the original cylinder ever worked at all. There was no way the cylinder I wanted to put in was going to work. (I wanted to re-pin the handle so that the inside key and the outside key were the same once again. So that meant fitting a cylinder that was the 6-pin version of the inside keyway. And it meant I could use an accidental purchase that had been hanging around in stock for months.)

There was nothing for. I would have to move the cylinder. Out came the trusty old curtain pole which is my source of 32 mm wooden dowel and I plugged the old hole. I decided to sort another couple of things out at the same time. The cylinder lock had originally been fitted at waist height whereas it would normally be at a thirteen-year-old’s eye height. And they’d wasted the only place in the door that would take a large mortice lock, on this poorly-fitted cylinder lock. And I wanted for various reasons to fit a particular mortice lock that was a little on the large size. So here was my opportunity to free up the space. So the cylinder lock went back in a foot higher.

Then I set to fitting my mortice lock. And the troubles began. Normally I use a magnet before fitting a customer’s lock in case there are any lumps of steel in the door that are going to break my mortice cutter. But as I was constrained to fit my new lock in exactly one position I didn’t bother with the magnet. And, yes, there was an enormous steel noggin just protruding into the mortice cavity. I sorted that out and then went to fit the equally enormous keep box to the frame. I couldn’t believe it but there was another enormous lump of metal in the way!

I’ve never encountered a customer’s door that was so much trouble and long may that continue.

If you’re booking a locksmith, or any kind of tradesman, I suggest that you let them know in advance if there is no parking whatsoever where you live.

It’s no good hoping that they’re magicians or athletes with no heavy kit or that they’re going to abseil in from a hovering helicopter. If a tradesman arrives and finds, for example, that it’s residents-only parking for half-a-mile in all directions, and that the contact number is permanently engaged, then if said tradesman is less than a level-eight saint, they might just turn around and head straight for their stress therapist. And the customer will have waited in for naught.

If, on the other hand, a customer says, “We’ll need to find a day where you can come around after four-thirty because that’s when the parking restrictions end”, or “I’ve a visitors parking permit for you”, everyone is heading for a positive and enriching experience.

Hopefully back again after a hiatus for holidays and blog software malfunctions.

What’s been happening? Well I think I reached the point where I need checklists to remind me to read my checklists. I was scheduled to replace a cylinder in a garage door. Now garage doors don’t often have cylinders. Usually they just have a cheap wafer lock built into the handle. But this one was in a better league and had a proper cylinder. (If you’re popping out to check yours, it’s easy enough: where does your key go? Does it go into something that looks like a front door “Yale” with  a circular front at least an inch across? If so — good. Does it go into something that looks like an upside-down pear / exclamation mark? If so — good. If it goes into something circular that’s about half-an-inch across and looks to be part of the handle, well, not quite so good.)

Anyway, this was a cylinder and garage door cylinders are usually what are called half (or single) euro-profile (the pear shape) cylinders. (There’s usually no need to be able to lock them from the inside.)

This does mean, though, that one method for opening, when the key has been lost, is unavailable. So I made a note that just in case I couldn’t pick the lock open, I should ensure that the drill was on board. And as I have a habit of grabbing the drill but forgetting the drill bits, I dutifully made sure I grabbed the drill bits as well.

When I got there I’d remembered everything except the picks! All I had was a small wallet of basic picks, a bit like you see in the movies. I was tempted just to go back and get the full kit, since the basic picks are not all that easy; but I thought I should save some exhaust fumes, be more positive and give it a go. And — glory be — it opened.

Some people haven’t heard of testing.

I’ve just been away on a course and staying in a hotel. I’ve stayed at this hotel before. It’s under new management now. The TV that was in “my” room has gone and in its place is a flat screen mounted on the wall. However, they’ve put the screen six feet above the ground and twenty feet away from the bed; so unless you’ve got an inhumanly flexible neck or have brought binoculars, you can’t watch TV. They’ve spent quite a bit of money on a refit. If you’d spent a lot of money on your newly acquired hotel, wouldn’t you try spending a night in each of the rooms and try doing what guests are likely to be doing (within reason).

And the bath. Now this isn’t the new people’s doing; this bath has been there a while. However, all of it’s sides are vertical. Literally. Ninety degrees to the base. I would suggest that given a shower and a bath, most people would use the shower if they just wanted to get clean. Most people take a bath to have a nice soak and relax. Assuming the people who made the bath didn’t also have inhumanly unusual anatomy, they can’t ever have tested lying in it.