Anglian Focus

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 ...