Wotta Week!

About Thursday lunchtime I was wondering what I would write about this week.  According to my standard measure of the week's activity (aka likely income), I'd achieved less than three days, and it was already half way through day four.  I was feeling fed-up, and to crown it all I'd just done a local 'filler', delivering to Biggleswade about eight miles up the road, had got back home and within minutes was asked to return to Biggleswade to collect something for another customer.  What was that 'law' about falling bread always landing butter-side down?  As to possible blog content, I felt there had been little activity, let alone anything spectacular, or even note-worthy.

The one job on Monday took me to the near end of Kent, and three on Tuesday represented an 'East Anglian tour': Cambridge, Woodbridge and Norwich.  OK, that was productive in itself, but hardly exciting.  And then Wednesday had taken me to Bristol.  The M4 is always a boring road, but it's fast, and you can't play the 'interesting' card when things have to get there in a decent time.  I did come back the shorter way across country, however, and this time I didn't listen to SatNav's prompting about a 'faster route', having learnt the hard way that this really means 'let me get you back onto the motorway'!

Thursday afternoon did little to relieve my despondency when I was sent to Gravesend.  I remember muttering, 'three tunnels there, four tunnels back, and you have to pay for the privilege!'  On the way home, I was called to arrange a 7.30 collection the following morning ... just to Cambridge.  An hour or so later I was almost home, by which time the night controller had taken over.  He called to ask if I would be able to take some medical equipment to Durham University Hospital that evening.  I pointed out the complication of this early local I'd been given for the following morning and, sensing the obvious balance of finding someone else for a long run that evening, or finding someone to do a local job in the morning, he said, "leave it with me for a few minutes."

I had heard nothing by the time my own alternative routes diverged, so I decided to try forcing his hand, and headed for the office rather than home.  I was almost there when he rang me to say he'd found someone else to take on the local job, so I pressed on, collected the goods and, at around 6.30 pm, set course for Durham.  I stopped for fuel and a snack and was there by about 11.0 only to find one last hurdle to cross.  When I located the main entrance, I found a notice saying that between 10pm and 6am access to the hospital was via A&E.  Just a few yards further on, though not easily seen at night, I found the ambulance bay, and took my parcels into triage reception.  Here the staff couldn't have been more helpful.  I was quickly directed to the operating theatre and, remembering my embarrassment the other week at Aintree (which I wrote about at the time), I rang the bell and waited.  Within minutes, I had made the delivery and was on my way south again, making plans for somewhere suitable to stop for a snooze.

After a cooked breakfast near Peterborough, I headed home for a refreshing bath.  Although I'd had only three and a half hours' sleep, I find I can't sleep once the new day has begun, so rang in for work, hoping for nothing too demanding.  Before too long, I was sent down to Kent again, this time to Tonbridge, where a couple of engineers were waiting beside their hole-in-the-road for some items that had been missed from the equipment they were there to install.  Feeling that the week had come to its natural end, I phoned in when I got home, and when asked if I wanted to do anything else, I said no, but would they put me onto Monday's list.  I began the usual weekend chores and thought of an early night.  Then the boss rang to ask if I'd like an early collection in Stevenage yesterday morning (i.e. Saturday) going to Bradford.  I decided it was worth the inconvenience, told him I could make that, and promptly compiled my shopping list.

I'd got as far as settling into the van ready to go to the supermarket when the phone went again.  'What now?' I wondered.  "If you go to <such-and-such> in Baldock," he said, "they'll give you something to deliver in Melbourne on your way tomorrow."  I went, and they did.  It was only a tiny box, for a place I'd been to before, which is always pleasing.  I visited a different supermarket from the one I'd planned, and returned to complete my foreshortened evening.

Unwin Sports Ground - home of Ely City

Apart from turning out to be a village near Huddersfield instead of Bradford, the second delivery yesterday was hassle free.  I stopped for a meal in Barnsley on the way back, and the timing proved perfect for me to fulfil my original plan for yesterday afternoon, to mark the first day of the new football season by watching Ely City play Kirkley & Pakefield in the premier division of the Eastern Counties League.  In the ten ECL matches played yesterday, there were three home wins, one away win, and no less than six draws, of which this was one.  Nevertheless, it was an exciting game with four goals, and I found myself asking at one point, 'does life get any better than this?'  I had just had an enjoyable drive, listening to the test match commentary, after eating a filling meal, was now sitting in the sun watching live football ... and would be paid for the overall experience!

What a contrast from the start of the week to its end.  These lopsided weeks seem to have become the norm, and it occurs to me that nothing seems evenly spread, whether it's work through the week, wealth across the world, or gold medals in the Olympic Games. 

So ... am I right to be thinking how I'll spend another flat Monday tomorrow?