The Year in Microcosm



Well, 2013 is under way.  Despite the playing-out of the traditional quiet-season-after-Christmas, my first week of the new year has presented a broad mixture of almost all the elements of a courier year.  There have been jobs both local and far afield; both early and late; driving in both rain and sunshine.  As well as a cancellation, there were jobs to both strange and familiar destinations, and one of those 'it's not where you told me' events, which happened to share its categorical analysis with that of a 'special price' job.  One of the new destinations included sight and smell of an 'I wouldn't want to go in there!' location, and from one of the familiar collection points I emerged thinking, 'how on earth can he work in that atmosphere all day?'

So, without breaching any confidentiality, how much can I apply flesh to the bones I've outlined?  The week began, as have the majority of the last few, with the renewal of the church breakfasts, where we can join in fellowship and ask for God's blessing on each other, on our own respective concerns, and on the work to which many of us would be returning after the long break.  In my case, work consisted of returning home to wait for the phone to ring.  Eventually I was asked to take a small parcel to the QEII hospital at Welwyn Garden City - getting me into the routine gently, I decided, since the firm where I collected it usually fill the van with large items.  I'd not long left for this one, when I was asked to ring in once I'd delivered so I could be sent down to Southend for a collection, and as soon as I was home from these two, I was given a third local job, taking a computer drive to a college in Luton.

After a day with only local jobs, Tuesday began with an 8.0 collection of computer equipment for an office in Colchester.  The only problem with this job was entry to the building.  I'd studied the location on Google the previous evening, and it appeared that the only access was at the rear, where there was a private car park, so that was my first target.  The car park was secured by a barrier, beside which there was no intercom facility, and as I sat there studying the back of the building I could see no door anyway.  I drove round the block (this being a one-way street) and I viewed the front and sides of the building from the dual carriageway that it faced, and saw one door on each elevation.  After parking hesitantly, but tidily, on the yellow lines outside, I investigated on foot and found both of these were closed and, like the car park, with no means of alerting anyone inside.  I managed to attract someone's attention, however, as a result of which I was redirected ... to the car park.  Leaving the van once more at the entrance barrier to the car park I discovered the back door, cunningly hidden from view behind a large shrub and a crane.  I certainly had the feeling that this place discouraged  visitors of any sort!  When I pressed the bell-push, though, I was greeted by a complete contrast to this impression.  A very helpful member of staff co-operated to the full in assisting my unloading and unpacking of the goods, and removal of the packaging as I'd been instructed.

Once home I waited but minutes before being sent to Royston to collect for Nottingham, but waited there for almost an hour before it was decided that this job was being cancelled.  Instead I was sent to Houghton Regis to collect two mini-laptops for a hotel in Cleckheaton, near Bradford.  By then, of course, it was almost dark, and I was very glad of a post-holiday collection of podcasts to listen to, on the long journey north and back, from which I returned something after 11.0pm.

Wednesday was therefore off to a late beginning, and consisted of only one local job, to a destination from which some of our larger vans collect, but to which I hadn't been before.  I found the site somewhat baffling to the stranger.  Many signs were to be seen, which were apparently helpful, but in the event proved otherwise.  One of these I found outside the deserted goods-in office.  "When unoccupied, please go to either effuent house or baling shed."  The effluent house boasted its presence through the open door opposite, but there was no indication where I might find the baling shed.  As I stood in the middle of the roadway, looking puzzled - an attitude often to be found useful in such situations - the appropriate person saw me and received my parcels.  He indicated where the baling shed was to be found, should I make a repeat visit on another occasion;  as I drove away past it, I saw no unrestricted door, and no sign indicating the actual location of the baling shed.

Thursday was fairly normal, with a metal collection in Biggleswade for Worthing, and an envelope for St Albans, followed by a delivery of pharmaceuticals for the Princess Alexandra Hospital in Harlow.  After returning from these, I was given details of a 6.0 am pick-up for a local firm the next day.  This was for Swindon, and I was forewarned that there would be goods to be collected there for return to our customer although, as a special concession, this return would not be paid for at the usual rate. 

Consequently I made sure I was organised well and to bed in good time to be up early on Friday morning.  I decided to head for the M25, stop at a convenient filling station just before the motorway and there get breakfast and fill in my paperwork.  It was then that I discovered that the only resemblance between the destination and Swindon was the letters of the postcode!  I was being sent some 20 miles further on, and once I'd got there I rang the office to make the necessary protest and arrange correction.  Even so, I was back in good time to make a lunchtime appointment for a blood test.


Milford Haven

After this, a local delivery of some labels to a factory in Hoddesdon completed the week, allowing me to make timely inroads into the domestic chores that tend to dominate the weekend routine. 

Now all I have to do is keep warm until summer comes.  In case my week's news makes you shiver like I am, here's a nice warm picture 'brought forward', as it were, from three years ago.  It certainly gives me a warm memory, that of wandering around a quayside office block in shirtsleeves at 8.30 am ... on a September morning!