Three-day Week(s)

There is much to commend the idea of working only three days a week: less pressure, more opportunity for other interests in life, personal affairs, etc.  The downside is a dramatic reduction in earnings.  Someone said that, while money might not be the most important thing in life, it does make almost everything else go more smoothly.  So, when the notion of a second holiday was first mooted, I was rather sceptical.  As the thought took root, however, it became more attractive.  I realised that, with just a little flexibility, I could take two days from one week and two from the next and enjoy, in effect, a (very) long weekend that was only one day short of a week!

Last weekend, therefore, I was braving the wind and rain in the vast green expanse of

Wollaton Hall, Nottingham

Wollaton Park in Nottingham, part of a grand tour of some of the stately homes and other attractions of the east Midlands.  My thoughts were far from the challenge of writing a blog! 


Peak Rail - arrival at Matlock station


After returning home on Tuesday evening, however, life came down to earth with a bump.  I quickly discovered how little I'd earned the previous week, in three none-too-productive days.  Wednesday did little to lift my gloom, with a visit to Rochester and then a local job being the only activity, apart from collecting five containers to be delivered in Newbury the following morning.  By contrast, this was to be the beginning of a much better day.  The Newbury delivery was interesting, for a start: the building was tucked away behind a church that was undergoing repair; the doorbell didn't work, so phone calls to the office, to our customer and to the consignee were necessary to gain access; and then - despite a very polite welcome - the lady there explained that these cases weren't supposed to go to her anyway, so would need to be collected later and taken the next day to the other side of the country!

Immediately after getting back from Berkshire, I was sent off on a local delivery, but by the time I'd collected this, another job had come in that was in the same general direction, so I was given that as well.  Some three hours later, as I was negotiating some road-works for the second time on my return journey, the controller rang to ask whether I'd be able to take something 'to somewhere in Scotland' that evening.  My curious mind needed no further bidding, and I accepted the challenge immediately.  Another driver would pick this job up for me, and in return I was to collect a parcel for him to take to south London on my way back to Letchworth.

By the time I'd swapped loads, and been home to collect a few necessaries, it was probably 4.0pm before I set off for a destination about three-quarters of the way from Glasgow to the Ayrshire coast.  I made the Carlisle truck-stop my 'base', and stopped there both for a meal on my way, and then for a few hours' sleep and breakfast on the return journey.  Not surprisingly, I recall very little of the adventure, and saw none of its beauty since it was dark when I went and dark when I came back.  I don't know how long the engineer had been standing there, but he was waiting outside the security gate when I arrived.  We negotiated the delivery from vehicle to vehicle on the deserted car park, and by the time I'd planned my homeward journey, he'd driven into the works with the goods in the boot of his car.

I was home about 3.30 on Friday afternoon, and set my weekend off to an early start.  The business week wasn't over, though.  Fuel apart, one of the biggest expenses of being a courier is the van's insurance, and yesterday's post brought the annual 'bombshell', the renewal paperwork.  To my amazement, this year the premium has actually gone down by £50 ... and despite the fact that the brokers have increased their fee by a staggering 50% (!) the total sum due is still more than 2.5% lower than last year.

Now comes the third three-day week in a row, for tomorrow I'm off for some family history research followed by a school reunion, and next weekend begins a day early in order to take part in a church retreat in rural Norfolk.  Life may not be in the realm of super-profits, but it's certainly not dull!

Bolsover Castle - the terrace that's visible from the M1