I've often spoken here about a week being made up of distinct parts, each with its own - often totally different - characteristics. Despite being a 'non-working' week, this one has been the same. It fell into four distinct sections, but each of them had an element of pain, and an element of good despite the pain.
Take Monday, for example. I took the van to the garage for a service, thinking that, while this was being done, I could concentrate on my preparations for a trip in the motor-caravan later in the week. It wasn't even mid-morning when they rang to give me a whole list of things that needed doing ... in addition to the growling noise that I had complained of. In the event, they attended to most of the other items on the list but, having decided that the noise was probably caused by the baffles in the silencer coming loose, but not being legally or mechanically essential just yet, this was parked for another time, 'to spare my bank balance'. How thoughtful.
Also on the list was severe wear on all four tyres, which were now sadly in need of replacement. I dealt with this in the afternoon and, while I waited for it to be done, I checked on the miles the old ones had done for me. One pair had served for nearly 47,000 miles, and the others over 59,000, so I feel they've deserved their place in the heavenly tyre-mountain (or wherever they go to retire).
In the evening I enjoyed bellringing as usual, and afterwards came further pleasure as I thought to join the usual handful in the pub. This week, however, one was tired, one hadn't had his tea after working overtime, and so on. There finished up being just me and one other. We had non-alcoholic beverages, and an intimate conversation about family life in a great many aspects. Perhaps the most telling moment was as we parted outside the door: she had bought the drinks, but it was she who thanked me! I think it had been a useful time for each of us to unload some 'stuff' that clogs up clear thinking from time to time.
Tuesday was the first of a three-day visit to Sussex. I had planned it to accommodate a visit to a motor-caravan centre near Hastings, where I had arranged to have a C-rail fitted to my vehicle enabling me to fit a drive-away awning when required. They also provided a suitable awning, and the bits that fit in between. While I was there, their workshop also overcame a problem I'd noticed earlier with an over-active cooling fan so, although of course I had to pay extra for this service, I was nonetheless satisfied.
I then drove just three miles down the road to an exclusive campsite (I say that because of the fees, rather than the facilities, which were good, but not outstanding). Here I was able to try out my new purchase, managing after two hours of trial and error to erect it and fit it to the vehicle. The most significant lesson learned was not to pitch it too close to the motorhome; by so doing there wasn't sufficient room to stretch the full 'tunnel' between the two, so there was an awful lot of flapping fabric to catch every passing breeze, never mind actual wind!
Wednesday was beautifully sunny from the word 'go'. I had come equipped with all sorts of things that needed to be done, or which could fill an active mind while training the body to relax and enjoy tranquility, and during the course of the day, I managed to devote a little time to most of them, including picking up once more the 'Teach Yourself Welsh' course that I abandoned ... gosh! over forty years ago! I wonder how long before it gets abandoned again? I also went for a short walk in an attempt to discover why SatNav had taken me such a long way round, and through narrow lanes to get to the site, which was only about 200 yards off the main road. I decided that it just didn't like the idea of turning from an A-road directly onto an unclassified road when there was a B-road within yards of the junction. Unfortunately, the required route meant turning off this B-road after a short while when it bent in the opposite direction!
Late on Wednesday afternoon, I decided to take the awning down and attack the 'packing-it-away' challenge, which I knew might be difficult. However, after only a minor struggle (and no more than I'd expect with things to be rolled up with air inside them) I fitted each part in its proper container and found space for the fabric in the rear locker and the poles in one of the inside cupboards. This early effort eliminated the need for a delay yesterday morning waiting for it to dry, and then the time to dismantle it.
Thursday thus began with a leisurely tidying of the vehicle ready to travel, and a look at the map to see what other attractions might be nearby. I found a preserved railway that, according to the internet, was 'in steam today'! I got there in comfortable time to sample the fare at the refreshment room, purchase a small souvenir from the gift shop and then take a trip to the end of the line and back. Here, I found the bonus. As a Norfolk boy, I had undertaken a school project about our own WWI heroine, Nurse Edith Cavell, who was shot by the Germans in 1915 for helping allied soldiers escape from occupied Belgium. Now at Bodiam station, I found preserved the goods wagon which had been used first to convey her body from Dover for a formal funeral at Westminster Abbey before it was buried at Norwich Cathedral, and then in two other similar repatriations, including the famous 'Unknown Soldier'. Although the train only stopped long enough to move the engine from one end to the other, it was long enough for me to satisfy my photo album!
And today ... it's been a wet day. My day began with a quick trip across the road to a convenient car spares store to buy a replacement bulb: not for either of my vehicles as such, but to provide the correct illumination for reading in bed when I'm using the motorhome. I had noticed that the light fitting above the bed had two 'on' positions, but only one that worked. Investigation revealed that the source of light within was a simple 'stop and tail' bulb such as would fit an ordinary car. Remedy was the work of minutes ... and then the rain started, leading to a day indoors, tidying loose ends ready for work again next week.
Friday 24 July 2015
Friday 17 July 2015
Two Halves, and lots of Changes!
I think I may have used that idea of a 'game of two halves' before, but I make no apologies, for the week I'm about to describe has been definitely lop-sided. It started very sluggishly, since I was out late last Friday evening, and drove straight from the delivery to arrive slightly late for the first event at church in what was to be a busy - almost 'festival' - weekend, with a visiting speaker and lots of activities.
The working week therefore began with a phone call to say I was available, and it was some while later that I was sent to Cheshunt, with a collection in Harlow on the way back. A couple of hours at home preceded a later collection in Milton Keynes, for delivery in Hitchin the next morning - and that not until 8.30! This was followed by a trip to Colchester to deliver just off the A12, near the football ground, and Tuesday finished with a journey to Northampton General Hospital, and a letter to Luton County Court en route. Two action-packed not-very-ambitious days, with the usual bellringing practice in between.
Wednesday began in the same vein, with a trip from Luton to Cambridge, to take some electronic equipment that had been repaired, and then a return trip with more items for the next repair cycle. After another wait at my desk at home, came a collection in Letchworth for Ware. Just as I was beginning to despair of getting my teeth (or, more accurately, wheels!) into something exciting, things began to change in my favour. As I was about to pull into the gateway for this collection, came a phone call, announcing an alternative plan. In the next street was a consignment for a hospital in Grimsby! At half-past Wednesday, the week was about to kick off!
Grimsby is a place I haven't visited much in this career - only three times, in fact. But it certainly hasn't proved to be grim. My recollection is of sunshine, and this was no exception. When I was nearly there, a call outlined my work for the following morning, with a collection at 9.0 in Coventry. As I turned for home, came the next change of plan. The bad news, I was told, was that the Coventry job was too big for my van; the good news was of two other jobs that would definitely go together. One was an envelope for Bristol, and the other some equipment to be collected in Bedford at 8.30 for 'Newport'. Unsurprisingly, I discovered that this didn't mean Newport itself, but one of the many places that are unpronounceable (at least on first sight) with an NP postcode. In this case it was Coedkernew.
I was up in good time, and almost to the pick-up point. "All change!" again. The customer now required delivery to a CH postcode instead ... which would rule out the Bristol job for me, of course. I'd just come to terms with this amendment, when further phone calls announced that this change was being reversed. A casual comment when signing for the goods revealed that someone had read the invoicing address and reacted over-swiftly to an apparent error that wasn't. So by 9.0, I was on my way to the delights of the M4 and the Severn Crossing. It's the first westbound crossing I've made for some years, and was aghast at the toll charge of £13.10! Having an inkling of the answer, I decided to ask the attendant about the charge for a motorhome. "Is this a motorhome?" he asked. I couldn't decide whether he was serious or not ... and perhaps this was his view of me, too. "No, I'm just asking the question." "£6.50," he said. "... And it's twice as big as this, and a bigger engine as well" I offered. "Yes," he said, "some of them are as big as a battleship. I don't make the rules, though. A van is a van is a van; it's £13.10, but if it's a motorhome, however big, it's £6.50" Having enjoyed this little banter, I bade him 'diolch' and went on my way.
After effecting my delivery, I decided that I'd had enough of motorways, so when I reached junction 24, I turned off towards Monmouth ... forgetting completely that I needed diesel! SatNav did its best, found me an Esso near Abergavenny, but a) it was about 5 miles beyond the town, and b) the post code was clearly incorrect, because it fetched me up on a narrow lane with not a house in sight, let alone a filling station. I headed for Hereford, where I was successful, with my gauge just on the edge of the 'pink-light' zone, and then made for home. I hadn't gone far before I was spotted by one of the many City Sprint offices ... Birmingham, I think ... who gave me two jobs out of Worcester, one for Birmingham (easy once I'd found the place), the other for a beautiful residential school for the disabled at Mirfield. Doing these was well worth my while, but I had to question whether M6 & M62 was really the best route from Birmingham to West Yorkshire! By the time I got home it had been an almost 18-hour day, of which an hour was taken out for a meal at Hartshead Moor services, and half an hour for a snooze at Gonnerby Moor services. The total circuit was 619 miles!
I heard something today about the mind being fatigued more readily than the body, and I had to agree with this contention. Yesterday's experience was typical. While I listened to the test match commentary I found myself tiringly frustrated by the lack of action, but in the evening, when my accompaniment was a succession of podcasts, and I was able to follow the sequence of thought in these, my fatigue was much less noticeable, although I slept well once I was home!
This afternoon, once I'd surfaced and caught up with the administration of the long day, I presented myself for 'light duties', and did little more than 100 miles in three short jobs, including collecting work for other drivers. Now, after three weeks on the road, I can plan for another week of R&R, the tale of which I shall share next weekend.
The working week therefore began with a phone call to say I was available, and it was some while later that I was sent to Cheshunt, with a collection in Harlow on the way back. A couple of hours at home preceded a later collection in Milton Keynes, for delivery in Hitchin the next morning - and that not until 8.30! This was followed by a trip to Colchester to deliver just off the A12, near the football ground, and Tuesday finished with a journey to Northampton General Hospital, and a letter to Luton County Court en route. Two action-packed not-very-ambitious days, with the usual bellringing practice in between.
Wednesday began in the same vein, with a trip from Luton to Cambridge, to take some electronic equipment that had been repaired, and then a return trip with more items for the next repair cycle. After another wait at my desk at home, came a collection in Letchworth for Ware. Just as I was beginning to despair of getting my teeth (or, more accurately, wheels!) into something exciting, things began to change in my favour. As I was about to pull into the gateway for this collection, came a phone call, announcing an alternative plan. In the next street was a consignment for a hospital in Grimsby! At half-past Wednesday, the week was about to kick off!
Grimsby is a place I haven't visited much in this career - only three times, in fact. But it certainly hasn't proved to be grim. My recollection is of sunshine, and this was no exception. When I was nearly there, a call outlined my work for the following morning, with a collection at 9.0 in Coventry. As I turned for home, came the next change of plan. The bad news, I was told, was that the Coventry job was too big for my van; the good news was of two other jobs that would definitely go together. One was an envelope for Bristol, and the other some equipment to be collected in Bedford at 8.30 for 'Newport'. Unsurprisingly, I discovered that this didn't mean Newport itself, but one of the many places that are unpronounceable (at least on first sight) with an NP postcode. In this case it was Coedkernew.
I was up in good time, and almost to the pick-up point. "All change!" again. The customer now required delivery to a CH postcode instead ... which would rule out the Bristol job for me, of course. I'd just come to terms with this amendment, when further phone calls announced that this change was being reversed. A casual comment when signing for the goods revealed that someone had read the invoicing address and reacted over-swiftly to an apparent error that wasn't. So by 9.0, I was on my way to the delights of the M4 and the Severn Crossing. It's the first westbound crossing I've made for some years, and was aghast at the toll charge of £13.10! Having an inkling of the answer, I decided to ask the attendant about the charge for a motorhome. "Is this a motorhome?" he asked. I couldn't decide whether he was serious or not ... and perhaps this was his view of me, too. "No, I'm just asking the question." "£6.50," he said. "... And it's twice as big as this, and a bigger engine as well" I offered. "Yes," he said, "some of them are as big as a battleship. I don't make the rules, though. A van is a van is a van; it's £13.10, but if it's a motorhome, however big, it's £6.50" Having enjoyed this little banter, I bade him 'diolch' and went on my way.
After effecting my delivery, I decided that I'd had enough of motorways, so when I reached junction 24, I turned off towards Monmouth ... forgetting completely that I needed diesel! SatNav did its best, found me an Esso near Abergavenny, but a) it was about 5 miles beyond the town, and b) the post code was clearly incorrect, because it fetched me up on a narrow lane with not a house in sight, let alone a filling station. I headed for Hereford, where I was successful, with my gauge just on the edge of the 'pink-light' zone, and then made for home. I hadn't gone far before I was spotted by one of the many City Sprint offices ... Birmingham, I think ... who gave me two jobs out of Worcester, one for Birmingham (easy once I'd found the place), the other for a beautiful residential school for the disabled at Mirfield. Doing these was well worth my while, but I had to question whether M6 & M62 was really the best route from Birmingham to West Yorkshire! By the time I got home it had been an almost 18-hour day, of which an hour was taken out for a meal at Hartshead Moor services, and half an hour for a snooze at Gonnerby Moor services. The total circuit was 619 miles!
I heard something today about the mind being fatigued more readily than the body, and I had to agree with this contention. Yesterday's experience was typical. While I listened to the test match commentary I found myself tiringly frustrated by the lack of action, but in the evening, when my accompaniment was a succession of podcasts, and I was able to follow the sequence of thought in these, my fatigue was much less noticeable, although I slept well once I was home!
This afternoon, once I'd surfaced and caught up with the administration of the long day, I presented myself for 'light duties', and did little more than 100 miles in three short jobs, including collecting work for other drivers. Now, after three weeks on the road, I can plan for another week of R&R, the tale of which I shall share next weekend.
Saturday 11 July 2015
How's It Going, Then?
When someone asked me yesterday evening, "How's the phased retirement going?", I confess I had to trot out that old cliché, "I don't know how I found time to work!" Only, in this case, it was a simple acknowledgement of the truth of it, for at present I'm still trying to combine both lives into one. At the start, it had seemed quite straightforward, with time to 'do things' on the weeks that I wasn't working. But now, six months into the plan, I'm finding that all the 'things' that happen in those non-working weeks have tails: tails that need to be fitted into working weeks, either because they can't be left, or because I'm too impatient to wait for the next non-working week to do them.
A couple of weeks ago, I returned from a three-pronged trip to North Wales, which was the first real trial for the motorhome. (I must get into the habit of calling it a motor-caravan, which is apparently the more accurate term, and doesn't risk confusion with those mansions on wheels at the far end of the market.) There were a couple of things that I wanted to do before I use it again. One was to re-fit a bit of trim which had pinged out of the leading edge of the over-cab and, with the help of a tube of glue and the bathroom stool, this was accomplished in the sunshine the day after my return. The other will take just a little longer, and involves modifying the additional woodwork that a previous owner had fitted inside one of the cupboards. With two fairly full weeks' work since then, and the prospect of another next week, this has been put on hold so far, which is becoming a bit frustrating, given that a tentative plan is forming for another short excursion the following week.
Last weekend was given over to accounts, and the striking competition (in which we came a comfortable fourth out of six teams competing!) and some personal letters ... which never work out saying what you want them to say in just minutes! This weekend is similarly dominated by other 'stuff', this time in connection with a church gathering. Luckily, there is the occasional break between jobs during the week, that allows me to do the odd errand, so that not everything gets pushed into the weekends. This isn't strictly linked to the retirement situation, of course, but rather to the fact of working from home, which has been an absolute boon for a couple of years now.
I can't let this post go without commenting about a couple of things from the week's driving assignments. I've spoken before about other offices 'spotting' me and providing what's known in the trade as a 'return load', i.e. something that means you don't drive all the way home with an empty van. The ultimate return load situation comes when a sequence of jobs form a chain, starting and finishing at the same place, and you realise when the records are put together, that you've been paid for every mile of that circuit. This happened on both Thursday and Friday this week. The first was when I was spotted just as I got into the van to drive home, and was given a job within a mile of my then position, to bring to a business just across the road from my home. The second was as I approached the further of two delivery points and received a call to collect something across the street, to be brought back to Letchworth, thus making another complete triangle.
And finally ... I never fail to be impressed by the skills of a fork-truck driver. Sometimes, I admit, the skill is praised in its absence, such as when a careless move has buckled a door-steady, but usually it's a case of marvelling at the apparent gymnastic ease with which a load has been manoeuvred into or out of my van. Yesterday, however, I think I saw the pinnacle of achievement, when two fork-trucks were used in tandem to manipulate into the back of a solid trailer, a load that was awkwardly positioned on a very long pallet. The understanding between the two drivers had to be seen to be believed ... it couldn't be heard, for it was expressed in silent concentration as they passed the burden of their load from one to the other like a juggler tossing a tennis ball between his hands.
Who knows? By next weekend I might have fitted my little woodwork job into an empty evening, and can go carefree on my travels again ... until another 'tail' appears!
A couple of weeks ago, I returned from a three-pronged trip to North Wales, which was the first real trial for the motorhome. (I must get into the habit of calling it a motor-caravan, which is apparently the more accurate term, and doesn't risk confusion with those mansions on wheels at the far end of the market.) There were a couple of things that I wanted to do before I use it again. One was to re-fit a bit of trim which had pinged out of the leading edge of the over-cab and, with the help of a tube of glue and the bathroom stool, this was accomplished in the sunshine the day after my return. The other will take just a little longer, and involves modifying the additional woodwork that a previous owner had fitted inside one of the cupboards. With two fairly full weeks' work since then, and the prospect of another next week, this has been put on hold so far, which is becoming a bit frustrating, given that a tentative plan is forming for another short excursion the following week.
Last weekend was given over to accounts, and the striking competition (in which we came a comfortable fourth out of six teams competing!) and some personal letters ... which never work out saying what you want them to say in just minutes! This weekend is similarly dominated by other 'stuff', this time in connection with a church gathering. Luckily, there is the occasional break between jobs during the week, that allows me to do the odd errand, so that not everything gets pushed into the weekends. This isn't strictly linked to the retirement situation, of course, but rather to the fact of working from home, which has been an absolute boon for a couple of years now.
I can't let this post go without commenting about a couple of things from the week's driving assignments. I've spoken before about other offices 'spotting' me and providing what's known in the trade as a 'return load', i.e. something that means you don't drive all the way home with an empty van. The ultimate return load situation comes when a sequence of jobs form a chain, starting and finishing at the same place, and you realise when the records are put together, that you've been paid for every mile of that circuit. This happened on both Thursday and Friday this week. The first was when I was spotted just as I got into the van to drive home, and was given a job within a mile of my then position, to bring to a business just across the road from my home. The second was as I approached the further of two delivery points and received a call to collect something across the street, to be brought back to Letchworth, thus making another complete triangle.
And finally ... I never fail to be impressed by the skills of a fork-truck driver. Sometimes, I admit, the skill is praised in its absence, such as when a careless move has buckled a door-steady, but usually it's a case of marvelling at the apparent gymnastic ease with which a load has been manoeuvred into or out of my van. Yesterday, however, I think I saw the pinnacle of achievement, when two fork-trucks were used in tandem to manipulate into the back of a solid trailer, a load that was awkwardly positioned on a very long pallet. The understanding between the two drivers had to be seen to be believed ... it couldn't be heard, for it was expressed in silent concentration as they passed the burden of their load from one to the other like a juggler tossing a tennis ball between his hands.
Who knows? By next weekend I might have fitted my little woodwork job into an empty evening, and can go carefree on my travels again ... until another 'tail' appears!
Saturday 4 July 2015
Too Much of a Good Thing!
Holiday weather ... it's always the same - the good weather greets your return, rather than accompanies you for the vacation. But this time, I think - even despite a wet Monday in the motorhome - I got it right. This week has certainly been hot for driving, but it would have been unbearable for sightseeing. I clocked 34.5 degrees at Heathrow on Wednesday afternoon, and 29 yesterday.
Workwise, it's been a good week, although it got off to a rather unsteady start when I drove round town to pick up my first job only to be told that it wouldn't be ready for an hour, so I had to return home again. The highlights came mid-week, with a delivery in Stranraer on Wednesday morning, and on Thursday afternoon a trip to Newbridge, about 11 miles from Newport. In the thirteen years I've been driving, it's the first time I've been to both Scotland and Wales in the same week - let alone on consecutive days! - and I found it quite exhausting. The worst part, by far, is the 100-mile trek from the M74 across to Stranraer, although it is relieved by glimpses of the Irish Sea in places, and on this occasion by a relaxing breakfast stop at a roadside cafe that has far more to offer when circumstances are different!
When driving, I hear far more news bulletins than otherwise, and it was noticeable to experience things in my week that reflected the news. Last summer, I did a delivery and a collection in Northern Ireland and, bearing in mind my comments above about the road to Stranraer, I made my journey there by way of Holyhead and Dublin. I had forgotten the detail of that trip until this week, when I recalled spilling my change in the van after paying the toll on the motorway. What brought it to mind was listening to the news reports of Greece's Euro-problems and looking down to see a 1-cent coin that had suddenly shaken into view beneath the passenger seat, having been lost since last summer's journey.
Yesterday, as I made my way back from a sweltering visit to a building site in Farnborough, I was given a job by the Heathrow office, which proved most beneficial, because it meant that I could find my way through the villages of Middlesex rather than sit for ages on a hot and crowded M25. In order to collect this job, I had to visit the office. This is in the village of Harmondsworth, which has been in the news this week because of the proposed expansion to Heathrow airport. If this goes ahead as planned, the village would disappear from the map!
Of course, you will be pleased to know that the Repeating Genie is still alive and kicking! It's some while since I'd been to Kent. In fact, since the introduction of the Dart Charge in November, I've only just had to replenish my account for the second time! This week saw me visiting Rochester for two separate deliveries, on Monday and Thursday. Similarly, Heathrow has escaped my attention for some while, and the collection yesterday was the second visit in three days. I had been spotted by the Leeds office on my way back from Scotland and was diverted to RAF Dishforth, where I collected a small parcel to take to an international freight depot in Hayes. It's certainly useful when these other offices keep a close eye on their screens to spot someone else's vehicle passing through their area!
This afternoon's activities will include participation in the annual striking competition. Our team is drawn to ring at 5.15pm, so I'm hoping it will be a little cooler by then.
Workwise, it's been a good week, although it got off to a rather unsteady start when I drove round town to pick up my first job only to be told that it wouldn't be ready for an hour, so I had to return home again. The highlights came mid-week, with a delivery in Stranraer on Wednesday morning, and on Thursday afternoon a trip to Newbridge, about 11 miles from Newport. In the thirteen years I've been driving, it's the first time I've been to both Scotland and Wales in the same week - let alone on consecutive days! - and I found it quite exhausting. The worst part, by far, is the 100-mile trek from the M74 across to Stranraer, although it is relieved by glimpses of the Irish Sea in places, and on this occasion by a relaxing breakfast stop at a roadside cafe that has far more to offer when circumstances are different!
When driving, I hear far more news bulletins than otherwise, and it was noticeable to experience things in my week that reflected the news. Last summer, I did a delivery and a collection in Northern Ireland and, bearing in mind my comments above about the road to Stranraer, I made my journey there by way of Holyhead and Dublin. I had forgotten the detail of that trip until this week, when I recalled spilling my change in the van after paying the toll on the motorway. What brought it to mind was listening to the news reports of Greece's Euro-problems and looking down to see a 1-cent coin that had suddenly shaken into view beneath the passenger seat, having been lost since last summer's journey.
Yesterday, as I made my way back from a sweltering visit to a building site in Farnborough, I was given a job by the Heathrow office, which proved most beneficial, because it meant that I could find my way through the villages of Middlesex rather than sit for ages on a hot and crowded M25. In order to collect this job, I had to visit the office. This is in the village of Harmondsworth, which has been in the news this week because of the proposed expansion to Heathrow airport. If this goes ahead as planned, the village would disappear from the map!
Of course, you will be pleased to know that the Repeating Genie is still alive and kicking! It's some while since I'd been to Kent. In fact, since the introduction of the Dart Charge in November, I've only just had to replenish my account for the second time! This week saw me visiting Rochester for two separate deliveries, on Monday and Thursday. Similarly, Heathrow has escaped my attention for some while, and the collection yesterday was the second visit in three days. I had been spotted by the Leeds office on my way back from Scotland and was diverted to RAF Dishforth, where I collected a small parcel to take to an international freight depot in Hayes. It's certainly useful when these other offices keep a close eye on their screens to spot someone else's vehicle passing through their area!
This afternoon's activities will include participation in the annual striking competition. Our team is drawn to ring at 5.15pm, so I'm hoping it will be a little cooler by then.
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