All a Bit of a Blur

The week got off to a slow start, but boy - did it take off!  I was somewhat thankful that my first call on Monday didn't come until almost lunchtime, because after last week's demands, there were still things to be 'polished off'. I went to Biggleswade to collect a pallet of metal for a firm in Basingstoke; on my way there, a second job came onto my screen to collect in a village near Bedford to take to Stevenage.  When I arrived at my first collection there was some consternation because they had two pallets for me which, although I could have physically taken them, would have exceeded my weight limit.  On then, to the second point, while another vehicle was organised for the first.  The place was out in the wilds and took some while to find.  My report of eventual success was met with an invitation to repeat the job I'd done last Thursday, which took me to Weymouth.

Tuesday's late uprising heralded a busy, but comparatively local day, including five jobs, but venturing no further than Reading.  Even so, I wasn't home until about 8.0pm.  Wednesday began with another semi-local demand, to a village just beyond Newport Pagnell.  In its usual whimsical way, SatNav took me there via Bedford and home via the M1, providing variety if nothing else.  I was still about ten miles from home when I was diverted to Luton for the next job, going to Dudley, and with it some fabricated items for Tamworth.  The customer who consigned these has a reputation for sluggishness but somehow waiting in the sunshine, knowing that two good jobs were virtually in the bag, was not unwelcome.  The jobs themselves were not difficult either, and by mid-afternoon I was on the M6 heading homewards again, looking forward to a lazy evening, but just wondering if anyone would spot me on their screen.  Beep! Beep!  I'd been spotted.  Now, the nature of this onboard computer device is such that, because of the colours and type face, I can't see the details of the job in normal light, to know whether I want to accept it or not.  I'm learning the wisdom that, if I don't want more work for the moment, I can sign off.  If I leave the machine switched on, I can still be seen, but the situation is clear.

So, midway through Wednesday afternoon came the second seaside job of the week, a collection in Nuneaton for Clacton-on-Sea.  I made the delivery about 7.30pm, took time out to stroll briefly along the esplanade musing on former times, and then bought a 'service station salad' for tea before heading for home.  Thursday repeated the same pattern, with a reasonably local job first, this time to West Horndon in Essex.  I confess, I was so distracted by the cricket commentary as the first six Australian wickets fell within half an hour or so, that I missed my turning off the M25, and committed myself to an additional ten miles to make my delivery!

Next came a collection of instruments to be taken to a hospital in Worcester, but before I'd reached the M1, I'd been spotted by the astute staff of Milton Keynes, who realised that, if I were willing, I could fit in this job with one they'd just taken for the National Grid, to collect some samples in a Buckinghamshire village, for analysis at a laboratory in Ellesmere Port, needing to be delivered there by 9.0pm.  They were considerate and phoned me first, rather than simply allocating the job, but I didn't see any problem with it, beyond the distance.  I would be late enough to miss my evening in any case, so it seemed sensible to make it worthwhile.

I returned from what was, to all intents and purposes, a third 'seaside' mission by about 1.0 am, but didn't sleep much beyond my normal waking up time, and after a late breakfast and a bit of admin, I decided to pay my weekly visit to the office to hand in the paperwork I'd collected so far.  When I walked in the door, the controller said he'd spotted me on his screen and had just given me a job.  This was to collect in Royston for Trowbridge, and was complemented en route by another to pick up in Letchworth for a Reading address.  Finally, since these were both small, could I fit on a pallet from Hitchin to go to Ascot on the way?   These three went together well, for the 'Reading address' was along the so-called 'Floral Mile' of the A4, and the only real problem was a major incident on the M4, which threw the whole area into west-bound chaos.

After two good weeks, I felt justified in stopping at a pub just short of the M4 on my return journey to get a decent meal before continuing.  Now I can look forward to a 'retired' week with some comfort and satisfaction!