As someone asked me in conversation this morning, "Is this a bit of a quiet time for you chaps, then?" I had just responded to his generic question, "Have you had a busy week?" with the down-beat, "Not as busy as I'd have liked." So, yes, there is a quiet time; to be honest, one I wasn't really expecting. I expect things to die off after Christmas, and plan for it. But just as the schools close for the long holiday ...? I hadn't noticed before that industry also goes quiet; after all, we're not tied to a particular trade, and there isn't a big employer that has an annual shutdown to affect the local economy at a more general level. Indeed, are there such big employers anywhere, these days?
These last two weeks have certainly been sluggish. Last week, as I explained, was a bit short because of getting the van serviced, and then someone forgot to put me on the list, so effectively it was a three-and-a-half-day week. By contrast, this week began with surprising promptness. I had been out late on Friday, so rang in on Monday at 8.0 as usual, and by 10 I was on my way to Felixstowe, to make a collection from HM Customs there. I later learned that I was one of four people despatched to various places to collect goods for this particular customer, and none of us was successful. I can only tell my part of the story, viz. I'd been sent a day early. Someone had made a costly mistake! Consequently, I came back as empty as I'd gone, noting the amazing temperatures as I did so (33 degrees on the A11 near Newmarket!) and finished the day with a couple of local jobs.
Knowing I was already on the list, I didn't pester the office on Tuesday morning. Instead I busied myself with my family history projects, dealing with two new contacts that had been discovered in the antipodes. By 2.0 I was getting suspicious that the phone might not be working, and called in to enquire how things were going. I was told that there had been five people in front of me, and that, now that the last of them had finally gone out, I was "top of the list for tomorrow." Against all hope to the contrary, there was no further word from them, and - in the words of the cricket commentator - I 'didn't trouble the scorers'.
By about 9.30 on Wednesday, I was sent once more to Suffolk, to a village just outside Halesworth. When I read the address where I was to deliver, I thought I would be confronted by a 'Bootiful' turkey, but this wasn't to be. Instead, I went to the site office of a firm of water engineers, who were operating behind the poultry processing plant. I was sent via another village operation, a haulage company outside Cambridge, with some legal documents that were eagerly awaited, but that was the total of the day's activity.
The depression occasioned by a whole day without work thankfully lifts quite quickly once a job has been done, and I was in good spirits to face Thursday. My good cheer was rewarded with an air conditioning unit for an Ipswich hairdresser, and some leaflets and newsletters for a mail handling depot at Rackheath just outside Norwich. Taken together, these two made it a good day, compensating for the preceding air of doom and gloom.
When I rang in on Friday morning, however, doom and gloom quickly raised their collective head again when I was told that I was no. 12 on the list! It seemed a bit of a sop to be told in the next breath, "but there are some good jobs coming up later." Although it wasn't long before I was called, it was only for a quite routine delivery of labels to a cosmetics firm near Peterborough. I'd been back about an hour, when I was asked how I felt about a run over to Swindon. I was pleased to be advised to avoid the dreaded M25, and had been given the reassurances that a) it would take a little longer than normal, and b) there would be someone there to help me unload the two large and awkward boxes I was to take. This is always comforting, especially when there is a danger that a late arrival could be faced by a closed and locked gate. This delivery, however, was to a private residence, so all was well.
All, that is, until I had negotiated the car and caravan parked on the drive, and was confronting the householder on his doorstep. I announced with confidence that I'd brought two large boxes from 'such-and-such' of Hitchin, only to find these tidings returned by a very puzzled face. I confirmed the man's name, and explained that I'd been told that the sender had phoned him just before I'd set out to confirm that he'd be there. I showed him my delivery sheet, upon which light seemed to dawn. These were in fact for his son, who lived there as well, but who wasn't at home. A phone call confirmed that the goods were expected and could be accepted, the two of us then unloaded them into the lounge, and I was on my way home.
It's always nice to be sent to 'my' part of the country. Three days out of five, however, is somewhat exceptional, and amazingly the one major job that wasn't in that direction provided the most interesting experience of the week. I was fortunate that, thanks to the heat and the light mornings, I'd been up early getting the washing ready, and then on Saturday morning similarly getting it done. This meant that the day could be used to take care of a couple of outstanding items.
First after the shopping came the renewal of my driving licence, for which I needed to go to Stevenage. The post office there has a particular serving station with a photo-booth, and here I was treated with the utmost courtesy, understanding and good cheer that well deserved the administration fee. The alternative was to find a photo booth and take my own picture with all the associated uncertainty, obtain a form, fill it in and post it off to DVLA. Instead all I have to do is wait the estimated ten days or so for the new licence to flop onto the doormat.
For some while, I have been debating with myself whether I really need a tablet. My son, when consulted a few weeks ago, summed them up as 'a smart phone without a phone', explaining that it would do all the things I already do with my phone, but not a lot more. He advised that many of the things I presently do on my (now out-dated) netbook I would be unable to do with a tablet. I'm sure he was right but, having been pushed by 'peer-pressure' and the desire to have a new toy, I decided yesterday that the time had come. At least I've gone into the enterprise with my eyes open, knowing what I'm taking on, and when I will and won't be able to use it. Now, after a day sorting it out - much as predicted, in the way I might a new smart phone - I have a clearer picture of its usefulness, and I feel at ease. Ask me in a few weeks whether I still feel so.
Meanwhile, I have the rest of the summer holidays to contend with ...
Sunday, 28 July 2013
Sunday, 21 July 2013
Letting off Steam
I can't claim the knowledge of the enthusiast, but I believe steam engines let off steam (with a big hissing cloud) when they're not actually going anywhere - idling, as it were - to prevent a dangerous build up of pressure. I guess that's what I'm doing here, in a number of ways.
Last weekend things were running somewhat ahead of my usual schedule, and I looked forward to a relaxing time. It was also going to be a long weekend, because the van was going in for a service on Monday. My expectations were fulfilled, and on Sunday and Monday I enjoyed the 'aftermath' of the family history project that has absorbed much of my free time for the last six months or so. Having compiled it and made it available to others, I have now begun to add some of the information to my own tree, in 'consumer mode'.
I recovered the van late in the afternoon, in time for the usual paperwork visit to the office. It had been so hot that I rather hoped that a long evening/night job might be available, as had been the case the previous Monday, when I went to Liverpool. Not so, however, and although I enjoyed as always going to bellringing practice, it meant that my weekly coffers were still empty. That situation remained unchanged on Tuesday morning, owing to a misunderstanding about my position on the list. Work in the other three-and-a-half days has consisted mainly of local jobs, with the furthest I travelled being only to Coalville, Leics., its nearest rival being a considerably shorter distance. The result is that my likely income will be approximately half what I would expect it to be in a normal week.
So pressure builds, and it seems appropriate to let off steam. But it's good, if possible, to do so in a positive, or at least constructive way. Some while ago, I used this platform to denounce those people who insist on driving into a parking space. My reasons were logical and, I believe, conclusive; I won't elaborate on them further here (but do, please, refer to that earlier blog!) Instead I'll describe my other main professional grouse about other road-users.
The main road that runs past my lounge window is usually quiet. It passes through a business and industrial sector of the Garden City, and the only reason I live here is because a factory was demolished in the 1980s, and the local council at the time decided that a housing development was a more appropriate replacement than a new factory unit. Indeed, it is so quiet that on some evenings young people scorch past, intent on proving just how fast they can drive their vehicles before braking at the last moment in order not to run into the roundabout at the end of the road!
A little way along the road is a point where there is a Sikh Temple on one side, and a Pentecostal Church on the other. Consequently, as I return from my own church on a Sunday morning it is quite normal to find a row of parked cars along each side of the road. Sadly, it is also quite normal to drive between these two rows of stationary vehicles to find myself at the end of them facing an equally stationary car nowhere near the kerb, its driver peering anxiously around the last parked car to see when the middle of the road will be 'clear'.
My grouse about this category of drivers is twofold. As I've stated above, this is a main (i.e. 'C-class' road. It's not a country lane. Its width is sufficient for four normal vehicles abreast with adequate passing clearance. Unless someone has parked untidily there is ample room for the parked car and a passing vehicle on each side of the white line down the middle of the road. Firstly, then, I contend that every driver (except, perhaps someone driving a new vehicle for the first week or two) should have a 'feel' of the width of his vehicle; not perhaps in feet and inches, or metres, but to know at sight the size of gap through which it will pass if driven carefully. They should therefore realise that, nine times out of ten, there is room for us to pass each other while both travelling between these two ranks of parked cars.
Ah yes, I can hear my critics denounce, but you wouldn't like it if someone were to crash into you as they pulled out to join you in this merry pasodoble. Quite right, I wouldn't; but here's my second point. Often this 'rabbit', staring into the headlamps of the oncoming car, has pulled up much too closely behind the parked cars. From this point, it's impossible for him to pull out to pass them without crossing the white line, and being a threat to the other driver. He should have made his decision earlier, positioned his car correctly, and stopped if necessary, at least a car's length earlier (and preferably more.) His pulling-out angle would then have been much narrower, he would have been able to see that he didn't need to stop, and the whole stand-off would have been avoided.
Just to underline the point about knowing the width of a vehicle, I have sometimes followed such a driver who, when the road is clear, drives almost down the middle of the road, seemingly with no idea where his near-side is in relation to hedge, verge, or parked cars, and forcing others to wait unnecessarily for him to pass majestically by.
I realise that I'm fortunate in having a vast excess of practice over the average driver, but by virtue of that I feel some justification in saying these things. I cannot condemn someone who prefers caution and safety to recklessness and danger. But I can point out how a little consideration and learning can improve road use for all.
Let me end on a lighter note. This morning's theme in church was ... church. What are we there for, what is the point of our gathering, belonging, believing, and so on. One of the aspects of this teaching was togetherness, and began with an amusing illustration. About a dozen prepared 'volunteers' stood in a tight circle, all facing the same way around the circle, and then sat down. As they squatted with care, each was sitting on the lap of the one behind, and each formed the 'chair' for the one in front. There was mutual and simultaneous giving and receiving.
I'm reminded of one of those 'public information' cartoons that appeared on TV long ago. Two motorists approached a junction; both stopped, both heads emerged from the cars. Each driver ushered the other to make his turn first. "After you, Charles" ... " No, after you, Claude!" And the caption said, "a little more give and take on the road."
Last weekend things were running somewhat ahead of my usual schedule, and I looked forward to a relaxing time. It was also going to be a long weekend, because the van was going in for a service on Monday. My expectations were fulfilled, and on Sunday and Monday I enjoyed the 'aftermath' of the family history project that has absorbed much of my free time for the last six months or so. Having compiled it and made it available to others, I have now begun to add some of the information to my own tree, in 'consumer mode'.
I recovered the van late in the afternoon, in time for the usual paperwork visit to the office. It had been so hot that I rather hoped that a long evening/night job might be available, as had been the case the previous Monday, when I went to Liverpool. Not so, however, and although I enjoyed as always going to bellringing practice, it meant that my weekly coffers were still empty. That situation remained unchanged on Tuesday morning, owing to a misunderstanding about my position on the list. Work in the other three-and-a-half days has consisted mainly of local jobs, with the furthest I travelled being only to Coalville, Leics., its nearest rival being a considerably shorter distance. The result is that my likely income will be approximately half what I would expect it to be in a normal week.
So pressure builds, and it seems appropriate to let off steam. But it's good, if possible, to do so in a positive, or at least constructive way. Some while ago, I used this platform to denounce those people who insist on driving into a parking space. My reasons were logical and, I believe, conclusive; I won't elaborate on them further here (but do, please, refer to that earlier blog!) Instead I'll describe my other main professional grouse about other road-users.
The main road that runs past my lounge window is usually quiet. It passes through a business and industrial sector of the Garden City, and the only reason I live here is because a factory was demolished in the 1980s, and the local council at the time decided that a housing development was a more appropriate replacement than a new factory unit. Indeed, it is so quiet that on some evenings young people scorch past, intent on proving just how fast they can drive their vehicles before braking at the last moment in order not to run into the roundabout at the end of the road!
A little way along the road is a point where there is a Sikh Temple on one side, and a Pentecostal Church on the other. Consequently, as I return from my own church on a Sunday morning it is quite normal to find a row of parked cars along each side of the road. Sadly, it is also quite normal to drive between these two rows of stationary vehicles to find myself at the end of them facing an equally stationary car nowhere near the kerb, its driver peering anxiously around the last parked car to see when the middle of the road will be 'clear'.
My grouse about this category of drivers is twofold. As I've stated above, this is a main (i.e. 'C-class' road. It's not a country lane. Its width is sufficient for four normal vehicles abreast with adequate passing clearance. Unless someone has parked untidily there is ample room for the parked car and a passing vehicle on each side of the white line down the middle of the road. Firstly, then, I contend that every driver (except, perhaps someone driving a new vehicle for the first week or two) should have a 'feel' of the width of his vehicle; not perhaps in feet and inches, or metres, but to know at sight the size of gap through which it will pass if driven carefully. They should therefore realise that, nine times out of ten, there is room for us to pass each other while both travelling between these two ranks of parked cars.
Ah yes, I can hear my critics denounce, but you wouldn't like it if someone were to crash into you as they pulled out to join you in this merry pasodoble. Quite right, I wouldn't; but here's my second point. Often this 'rabbit', staring into the headlamps of the oncoming car, has pulled up much too closely behind the parked cars. From this point, it's impossible for him to pull out to pass them without crossing the white line, and being a threat to the other driver. He should have made his decision earlier, positioned his car correctly, and stopped if necessary, at least a car's length earlier (and preferably more.) His pulling-out angle would then have been much narrower, he would have been able to see that he didn't need to stop, and the whole stand-off would have been avoided.
Just to underline the point about knowing the width of a vehicle, I have sometimes followed such a driver who, when the road is clear, drives almost down the middle of the road, seemingly with no idea where his near-side is in relation to hedge, verge, or parked cars, and forcing others to wait unnecessarily for him to pass majestically by.
I realise that I'm fortunate in having a vast excess of practice over the average driver, but by virtue of that I feel some justification in saying these things. I cannot condemn someone who prefers caution and safety to recklessness and danger. But I can point out how a little consideration and learning can improve road use for all.
Let me end on a lighter note. This morning's theme in church was ... church. What are we there for, what is the point of our gathering, belonging, believing, and so on. One of the aspects of this teaching was togetherness, and began with an amusing illustration. About a dozen prepared 'volunteers' stood in a tight circle, all facing the same way around the circle, and then sat down. As they squatted with care, each was sitting on the lap of the one behind, and each formed the 'chair' for the one in front. There was mutual and simultaneous giving and receiving.
I'm reminded of one of those 'public information' cartoons that appeared on TV long ago. Two motorists approached a junction; both stopped, both heads emerged from the cars. Each driver ushered the other to make his turn first. "After you, Charles" ... " No, after you, Claude!" And the caption said, "a little more give and take on the road."
Friday, 12 July 2013
The Long and the Short of it
On Thursday morning I was given a lesson in humility. "What have you done so far today?" I was asked. I replied, with cold accuracy and not a little bitterness, "I've got up, and had my breakfast," thinking as I did so that the people in the office didn't have a clue what was going on. "I didn't get in until 2.15!" By then it was about 10.40 am, and I'd just rung in to announce my availability for work. After ending the call, I calmed down and realised that while there's only one of me in my little world, there are over fifty drivers in their world, and several controllers looking after them, so it wasn't unreasonable that, at that hour of the morning, the one who answered my call should assume that I'd already been out, and had just returned home.
But to start at the beginning of a week that has returned my highest mileage total since Christmas (1,974) ...
Monday this week bore several resemblances to Monday of last week. On each occasion, as I left church after the early breakfast, I told my friends that, no, I didn't know where I'd be going, because I'd been out late on Friday, so would have to ring in and start from scratch. On each occasion, I discovered that I'd been left on the list when given a late job on Friday, so would soon be going out. And on each occasion, I had been sent to Swindon. There the two diverge for, while last week found me walking around in the city centre sunshine, this week's Swindon was another of those 'postal town vagaries', and turned out to be Royal Wootton Bassett. There was nothing special about the job itself, but the Monday similarity continued afterwards. Just like last week, I was given another job when I called in to the office with my paperwork. The timing was different however. Whereas last week I'd been sent on a comparatively local run to Northampton, and later enjoyed an evening's ringing, this time it was nearer closing time, and I was asked if I'd like to go to Liverpool (notice how the phrasing changes as evening approaches!)
Not one to turn down work without good reason, I said OK, and was soon off with a couple of items for a national newspaper firm. Knowing that they operated on a 24-hour basis, I stopped briefly at the truck-stop for a meal on the way, arrived around 10.30, and was home by 4.0 am.
I rang in after breakfast on Tuesday to find that - by then - the list was a short one, and I was soon called back with two jobs, one to nearby Milton Keynes, the other nominally to Chester, which I discovered on collection was actually to an aircraft factory just over the border into north Wales. My arrival there had been hampered by an accident just outside Chester, and I had no desire to get held up a second time so, after a quick check on the map, I decided to make a pleasure out of necessity and take a different route home. Passing through Wrexham, I headed for Telford thinking that, if nothing caught my eye in the meantime, there would be something to eat at the motorway services there. Passing round the Shrewsbury ring road, I spotted a sign for 'services', rejected the possibilities of Starbucks and Burger King, and found myself in a pleasant eatery called the 'Two Henrys'. Named after the two protagonists, King Henry IV, and Henry Percy ('Harry Hotspur'), it is on or near the site of the 1403 Battle of Shrewsbury. Fed in both body and mind, I then made my way home, and was pleased to be home far earlier than the previous day, albeit still 11.0!
Wednesday promised to be another late start, but when I rang in around 8.30, I was almost immediately given a job, on the basis that it was one that I'd done several times before, and would therefore know where I was going. This was a collection at West Suffolk Hospital, for a laboratory in Royston - the reverse of the job referred to briefly here only a couple of weeks ago, when I visited four hospitals in one day. This visit, too, was part of a 'multi-hospital, day since only a half-hour or so after my return I was despatched to Hexham General with some equipment required for surgery the following day. It was a pleasant day spent in the company of commentary on the first day of the Ashes Test Match and, with my delivery made by 7.0, I retraced my steps just a few miles for my second consecutive pub meal, this time at the Wellington Hotel, Riding Mill. As previously declared, this third late night ended at a time nicely between the previous two, at 2.15.
After the 'lesson in humility' mentioned at the top of this piece, my only job on Thursday was prolonged by adding a second accident to this week's total. This severely delayed my journey round the M25, to deliver some artwork to a café being refurbished in Esher. The collection had already been hampered by roadworks, but after the foregoing days, I was so much in 'relax mode' that my only thought was gratitude that the job wasn't an urgent one. Given that I couldn't focus my attention on either the computer screen or the book I tried to read instead, I think I can be forgiven for indulging in an early night. It did me little good, however, and I was awake by 5.0 am and soon ready to leave for the next assignment - the first of two enjoyable journeys into Suffolk.
With breakfast on the way, I made it to Halesworth comfortably early, and was on my way to our customer in Luton with the goods I'd collected by the planned 10.0. A comfortable coffee break at home, listening to the Test Match was followed by the second trip to the 'old country': this time to deliver some paint to Haverhill. In these two days, I've earned only about a day's income, but after the exhaustion of days one to three, I feel unperturbed, even though I'm faced with a day off on Monday. This is because the van's exhaust gas recirculation valve is playing up, and since the van is almost due for another service anyway, it seems good economic strategy to arrange for both jobs to be done together.
After release from a third trip to Suffolk because the job was too big for my van, I'm also free of the consequent delivery in Stoke-upon-Trent tomorrow morning, so instead I can look forward to a lazy weekend: - I can't decide whether to dream up something exciting to do, or simply relax.
But to start at the beginning of a week that has returned my highest mileage total since Christmas (1,974) ...
Monday this week bore several resemblances to Monday of last week. On each occasion, as I left church after the early breakfast, I told my friends that, no, I didn't know where I'd be going, because I'd been out late on Friday, so would have to ring in and start from scratch. On each occasion, I discovered that I'd been left on the list when given a late job on Friday, so would soon be going out. And on each occasion, I had been sent to Swindon. There the two diverge for, while last week found me walking around in the city centre sunshine, this week's Swindon was another of those 'postal town vagaries', and turned out to be Royal Wootton Bassett. There was nothing special about the job itself, but the Monday similarity continued afterwards. Just like last week, I was given another job when I called in to the office with my paperwork. The timing was different however. Whereas last week I'd been sent on a comparatively local run to Northampton, and later enjoyed an evening's ringing, this time it was nearer closing time, and I was asked if I'd like to go to Liverpool (notice how the phrasing changes as evening approaches!)
Not one to turn down work without good reason, I said OK, and was soon off with a couple of items for a national newspaper firm. Knowing that they operated on a 24-hour basis, I stopped briefly at the truck-stop for a meal on the way, arrived around 10.30, and was home by 4.0 am.
I rang in after breakfast on Tuesday to find that - by then - the list was a short one, and I was soon called back with two jobs, one to nearby Milton Keynes, the other nominally to Chester, which I discovered on collection was actually to an aircraft factory just over the border into north Wales. My arrival there had been hampered by an accident just outside Chester, and I had no desire to get held up a second time so, after a quick check on the map, I decided to make a pleasure out of necessity and take a different route home. Passing through Wrexham, I headed for Telford thinking that, if nothing caught my eye in the meantime, there would be something to eat at the motorway services there. Passing round the Shrewsbury ring road, I spotted a sign for 'services', rejected the possibilities of Starbucks and Burger King, and found myself in a pleasant eatery called the 'Two Henrys'. Named after the two protagonists, King Henry IV, and Henry Percy ('Harry Hotspur'), it is on or near the site of the 1403 Battle of Shrewsbury. Fed in both body and mind, I then made my way home, and was pleased to be home far earlier than the previous day, albeit still 11.0!
Wednesday promised to be another late start, but when I rang in around 8.30, I was almost immediately given a job, on the basis that it was one that I'd done several times before, and would therefore know where I was going. This was a collection at West Suffolk Hospital, for a laboratory in Royston - the reverse of the job referred to briefly here only a couple of weeks ago, when I visited four hospitals in one day. This visit, too, was part of a 'multi-hospital, day since only a half-hour or so after my return I was despatched to Hexham General with some equipment required for surgery the following day. It was a pleasant day spent in the company of commentary on the first day of the Ashes Test Match and, with my delivery made by 7.0, I retraced my steps just a few miles for my second consecutive pub meal, this time at the Wellington Hotel, Riding Mill. As previously declared, this third late night ended at a time nicely between the previous two, at 2.15.
After the 'lesson in humility' mentioned at the top of this piece, my only job on Thursday was prolonged by adding a second accident to this week's total. This severely delayed my journey round the M25, to deliver some artwork to a café being refurbished in Esher. The collection had already been hampered by roadworks, but after the foregoing days, I was so much in 'relax mode' that my only thought was gratitude that the job wasn't an urgent one. Given that I couldn't focus my attention on either the computer screen or the book I tried to read instead, I think I can be forgiven for indulging in an early night. It did me little good, however, and I was awake by 5.0 am and soon ready to leave for the next assignment - the first of two enjoyable journeys into Suffolk.
With breakfast on the way, I made it to Halesworth comfortably early, and was on my way to our customer in Luton with the goods I'd collected by the planned 10.0. A comfortable coffee break at home, listening to the Test Match was followed by the second trip to the 'old country': this time to deliver some paint to Haverhill. In these two days, I've earned only about a day's income, but after the exhaustion of days one to three, I feel unperturbed, even though I'm faced with a day off on Monday. This is because the van's exhaust gas recirculation valve is playing up, and since the van is almost due for another service anyway, it seems good economic strategy to arrange for both jobs to be done together.
After release from a third trip to Suffolk because the job was too big for my van, I'm also free of the consequent delivery in Stoke-upon-Trent tomorrow morning, so instead I can look forward to a lazy weekend: - I can't decide whether to dream up something exciting to do, or simply relax.
Sunday, 7 July 2013
A Good Mixture
It's been a good week - and not just because of the weather. It's been what my dad might have called a 'rum ow mixture': a bit of this, and a bit of that, and not too much of anything. It began on Monday with a standing start: I rang in to say I was available for work. It wasn't long before I was sent to a customer in Houghton Regis to collect a small package for a soon-to-open shop in the centre of Swindon. In the afternoon, after the regular weekly document exchange at the office, I went to an industrial unit on the outskirts of Northampton, but was home in time for bell-ringing practice in the evening.
Tuesday and Wednesday each began with a fairly local job pre-booked from the previous evening. On Tuesday I collected a van-load of electronics for a high security establishment on the outskirts of Milton Keynes. Never having been there before, I approached the gatehouse with some trepidation, but received an unexpectedly relaxed and warm welcome, clear directions where I should go, and a cheery wave as I departed. The elation of this job was deflated somewhat by the one that followed. I was sent to a luxury hotel near Cambridge to collect 'a grey canvas bag' on behalf of a client in Hoddesdon. I guessed that someone had left their luggage behind - an event not without precedent. In this case, however, I got it wrong: this grey canvas bag was large and flat, and clearly contained a display unit that had been used at a promotional gathering, but which was far too big to go into a salesperson's company car. The day ended with a visit to a private hospital in Cheam, along with instructions for Wednesday morning.
Wednesday's local start took me only to Dunstable, and then I collected at a medical firm in Letchworth for the first of three trips this week to another private hospital, this time near to Gatwick airport. I had returned from this delivery, and was enjoying a welcome cup of coffee after some strenuous domestic activity (see below), when a familiar question came down the phone line. 'Are you all right for ...', which is code for 'I've got a long job here, and I'd like you to do it.' By now it was 3.15pm, and this enquiry related to a delivery that evening in Leeds. On the way to collecting this, I did another short job from Hitchin to a factory in a nearby village, and was asked if I'd mind going on to somewhere with 24-hour access in Newcastle, after I'd delivered in Leeds. Recalling an old saying about 'never rains but it pours', I said 'OK', and collected this job in Letchworth before making my way up the A1 to Sandy for the other one.
The Leeds delivery was to the semi-pedestrianised city centre, where a gang was working on a new shopping mall. With the problem of one-way streets and others closed off by bollards, my final access was interesting, to say the least, and I was glad of two mobile phone nos., and someone who could meet me where I'd parked and guide me to where the goods were wanted. At about 8.30, I headed further north, to the Team Valley Business Park, which is actually in Gateshead rather than Newcastle, but only a pedant (like me) would draw this distinction. With this second delivery made at 10.35, I began the reverse journey. I stopped at Boroughbridge, finding a convenient turning-that-goes-nowhere where I could park up and get some sleep, and then gently made for the same diner at Stibbington for breakfast at the same table where I'd eaten cottage pie only a few hours before.
On the home front this week, the great excitement was my landlord's plan to have the interior window frames repainted. On Sunday I began a complicated plan to re-arrange my furniture so as to allow the painter unhindered access, which necessitated rendering some items completely unusable for the week, owing to storing others close by, and in some cases on top of them. This had been completed on Wednesday, just before the phone call that sent me to distant places far to the north. I returned on Thursday morning with sufficient time to catch up with the washing-up, and put things away by the time the painter arrived.
Once Thursday had properly started, I was content to be given a repeat of the job I'd done the previous morning, to the hospital in Gatwick, complemented this time by a collection in Camberley afterwards for a customer in Flitwick.
I slept well on Thursday night, and was rewarded on Friday morning with a job that was very much a 'blast from the past'. This was a delivery from a client in Royston to their customer in Harwich, a job that had been quite frequent in 2007/8, but that had not appeared, on my radar at least, since then. The destination is right by the waterfront, and the journey there far from unpleasant, so I was quite pleased to be given the job. My pleasure waned a little when I found myself in a traffic hold-up on the way home, but even this had its blessings. After only a short delay, I was able to follow a small convoy of other vehicles through an industrial estate on the outskirts of Colchester to a roundabout over the blocked A12. Here service station provided a lovely peaceful lunch location. By the time I'd eaten a prepared salad, the road was clear again.
It seemed likely, as I rang in about 3.15pm, that the week might be over. This was indeed a foolish thought for, almost on the dot of 4.0, came the third visit in as many days to that hospital in Gatwick. When I arrived at 7.30, I found the delivery office closed as I'd expected, so was guided to the theatre with my consignment. Here I felt obliged to apologise - on behalf of the M25 - for the late delivery, which amused the assistant who received the goods, and in turn put me in a good mood for the trip home.
The weekend has consisted largely in getting my home back to normal, following the retreat of the painter during my absence on Friday. A pleasant interruption to this exercise came yesterday afternoon with the annual Striking Competition, a bell-ringing tournament in which teams from the local churches attempt to achieve the most regular striking of a set length of ringing. Our team came fourth out of the five competing this year, which was only just below our expectations, there being one or two larger towers who have established prowess in these skills, and a history of regular success in the contest.
Tuesday and Wednesday each began with a fairly local job pre-booked from the previous evening. On Tuesday I collected a van-load of electronics for a high security establishment on the outskirts of Milton Keynes. Never having been there before, I approached the gatehouse with some trepidation, but received an unexpectedly relaxed and warm welcome, clear directions where I should go, and a cheery wave as I departed. The elation of this job was deflated somewhat by the one that followed. I was sent to a luxury hotel near Cambridge to collect 'a grey canvas bag' on behalf of a client in Hoddesdon. I guessed that someone had left their luggage behind - an event not without precedent. In this case, however, I got it wrong: this grey canvas bag was large and flat, and clearly contained a display unit that had been used at a promotional gathering, but which was far too big to go into a salesperson's company car. The day ended with a visit to a private hospital in Cheam, along with instructions for Wednesday morning.
Wednesday's local start took me only to Dunstable, and then I collected at a medical firm in Letchworth for the first of three trips this week to another private hospital, this time near to Gatwick airport. I had returned from this delivery, and was enjoying a welcome cup of coffee after some strenuous domestic activity (see below), when a familiar question came down the phone line. 'Are you all right for ...', which is code for 'I've got a long job here, and I'd like you to do it.' By now it was 3.15pm, and this enquiry related to a delivery that evening in Leeds. On the way to collecting this, I did another short job from Hitchin to a factory in a nearby village, and was asked if I'd mind going on to somewhere with 24-hour access in Newcastle, after I'd delivered in Leeds. Recalling an old saying about 'never rains but it pours', I said 'OK', and collected this job in Letchworth before making my way up the A1 to Sandy for the other one.
The Leeds delivery was to the semi-pedestrianised city centre, where a gang was working on a new shopping mall. With the problem of one-way streets and others closed off by bollards, my final access was interesting, to say the least, and I was glad of two mobile phone nos., and someone who could meet me where I'd parked and guide me to where the goods were wanted. At about 8.30, I headed further north, to the Team Valley Business Park, which is actually in Gateshead rather than Newcastle, but only a pedant (like me) would draw this distinction. With this second delivery made at 10.35, I began the reverse journey. I stopped at Boroughbridge, finding a convenient turning-that-goes-nowhere where I could park up and get some sleep, and then gently made for the same diner at Stibbington for breakfast at the same table where I'd eaten cottage pie only a few hours before.
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| ... in some cases on top of them! |
Once Thursday had properly started, I was content to be given a repeat of the job I'd done the previous morning, to the hospital in Gatwick, complemented this time by a collection in Camberley afterwards for a customer in Flitwick.
I slept well on Thursday night, and was rewarded on Friday morning with a job that was very much a 'blast from the past'. This was a delivery from a client in Royston to their customer in Harwich, a job that had been quite frequent in 2007/8, but that had not appeared, on my radar at least, since then. The destination is right by the waterfront, and the journey there far from unpleasant, so I was quite pleased to be given the job. My pleasure waned a little when I found myself in a traffic hold-up on the way home, but even this had its blessings. After only a short delay, I was able to follow a small convoy of other vehicles through an industrial estate on the outskirts of Colchester to a roundabout over the blocked A12. Here service station provided a lovely peaceful lunch location. By the time I'd eaten a prepared salad, the road was clear again.
It seemed likely, as I rang in about 3.15pm, that the week might be over. This was indeed a foolish thought for, almost on the dot of 4.0, came the third visit in as many days to that hospital in Gatwick. When I arrived at 7.30, I found the delivery office closed as I'd expected, so was guided to the theatre with my consignment. Here I felt obliged to apologise - on behalf of the M25 - for the late delivery, which amused the assistant who received the goods, and in turn put me in a good mood for the trip home.
The weekend has consisted largely in getting my home back to normal, following the retreat of the painter during my absence on Friday. A pleasant interruption to this exercise came yesterday afternoon with the annual Striking Competition, a bell-ringing tournament in which teams from the local churches attempt to achieve the most regular striking of a set length of ringing. Our team came fourth out of the five competing this year, which was only just below our expectations, there being one or two larger towers who have established prowess in these skills, and a history of regular success in the contest.
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