Limbering up indeed!

In this game there are - to my mind, at least - three kinds of job.  There are 'back-end' jobs: these comprise local work that is given out to someone low down on the list, as a 'filler' while they are waiting, or jobs which, because of where they are going, or their urgency, won't be willingly undertaken by someone who has done his waiting time, and is due a 'proper' job.  Then there are these 'front-end', or 'proper' or 'top-line' jobs, the normal, run-of-the-mill work which makes up most of a driver's income; he looks for these jobs in doubles or trebles, so that the same mileage can earn him more money.  Often lately, such combinations have not been possible, and we have had to go off with just one job, the result of which is that, although income has been good, the margin on it is less than expected.

Occasionally, we see jobs of the third kind, described as 'long' or 'good' according to the individual's preferences, for not everyone likes to go long distances, especially towards the end of the day.  I reckon that anything over 150 miles comes under this heading, and occasionally such jobs are combined with others, which is really the icing on the cake!  In the first three months of this calendar year, only ten jobs in this category have come my way, two to Wales, two to the west country, and six to the north of England.  Last Friday, after what seemed quite a long wait I had a job to Hull.  It was the first long job this month, and I smiled to myself as I drove home from it, 'I'm limbering up; I wonder what for.'

As I looked at the first two days of this week, I could have been forgiven for considering thoughts like that well off the mark.  On Monday I took the van to the garage to have fitted the reversing sensors that I'd bought on line in readiness.  The job took far longer than I'd been led to believe, and when I eventually go to the office it was for a boring and unproductive afternoon.  After being allocated a 9.0am pick-up in Cambridge on Tuesday, I returned home feeling somewhat dejected.  The Cambridge job was going to Burton-on-Trent, and common sense dictated that it should go off directly rather than look for another job from the same collection area.  In the afternoon, I was given a local job that finished up in Royston, so I rang in empty and went home.  In two days, I'd earned less than one!

Then the week kicked off!  A phone call on Tuesday evening sent me off for a 7.0 am job to King's Lynn, and after only an hour's wait in the office I was summoned about noon to be asked if I was OK for a 'very' long job.  My throwaway response, 'the longer the better' was appropriate, as I was despatched to a computer service company in Hitchin to collect materials for a call-out from their engineer in Glasgow.  It was a trouble-free journey, hindered only by the weather.  Indeed, there were two very welcome changes from my last venture in that direction. 

adornment to a nearby factory

The long-term roadworks on the A1 near Leeming Bar have been completed, and about 20 miles of 50mph limit lifted.  Then I discovered that the M74 into Glasgow has also been finished, and it was here that I was to go.  In bright evening sunshine, I made my way to the office block where the engineer approached me at the door to relieve me of my cargo.  On my way back to the motorway, I couldn't resist raising my camera to a piece of local 'scenery' - relevance unknown!

The return journey went according to plan.  After a meal at Bothwell Services, I left the motorway and struck off for a gentle run across country, via Lanark, Peebles, Galashiels and Jedburgh to get onto the A1 at Newcastle.  I crossed the Tweed at 11pm, and the border at Carter Bar at 12.45.  An hour's sleep at Washington Services, and another couple in my favourite lay-by near Wetherby, left me reasonably fresh by daybreak.  The transformation was continued by a truck-stop breakfast, and then completed by a bath and my normal prayer-time at home.

Just before 10.0, I rang in as available for work, and said I would stay home for a while catching up on my admin.  No more than twelve minutes elapsed before I was called for two local jobs, to which a third was added just as I had delivered the second.  Things then really took off, and before delivering that one, I had collected two 'top-line' jobs, which caused me to finish up in King's Lynn again.  By the time Thursday had staggered to a finish, (with a 9.30 bedtime that felt more like 11.30 judging from my tiredness), I had covered over 1,200 miles in the two days.

Unsurprisingly, Friday began slowly.  I remember waking up at the alarm, but my next memory was about half-an-hour later.  I went over to the office, filed my paperwork, and gave my van a mini-valet in the sunshine.  Soon I was sent off on a job to Corby (borderline local/normal: I wasn't sure which).  Later came the greatest adventure of the week.  I was given the details of a collection in Bushey for Rochdale, cloaked with copious warnings of a possible scam, the need to take care, and to collect the cash for the carriage charge before releasing the goods.  After hours battling with the Friday afternoon traffic (good old SatNav!), I finally rang the office as required, 15 minutes short of my arrival, and soon received a call back, saying that my contact might be a few minutes late after going to collect the cash to give me.  The hints of black dealings were repeated, and I was urged to be careful. 

I found the street, parked as near as I could to the designated address, and waited.  After being greeted by a local resident, anxious to help, but unable to do so, a tap came at my window and my quest was at an end.  Once I had the cash in my pocket, I was guided back onto the waste ground at the end of the road, and soon drove off, leaving my contact standing beside a couple of boxes surrounded by rough vegetation and nettles, peering at his mobile phone.  Looked at objectively after the event, I'm not sure that anything untoward was going on, but the combination of all the warnings, the darkness and the location in a poorly-lit cul-de-sac at an address which technically didn't exist (I was looking for no. 90a in a street where the odds ended at 83 and evens at 66!) were certainly spooky! 

I was home at 2.45 this morning, and I'm unspeakably pleased to have a weekend in which to recover!