Mustn't Grumble!

I've heard it said that, when Ivan met Ygor in a Moscow street some thirty years ago, one asked the other, 'How's it going?' and received the response, 'I can't complain.'  In that apocryphal exchange there was, of course, a subtext about the restrictions of a totalitarian regime.  There is no subtext about my description of this week as one about which I don't feel I can complain.

The first four days were, to say the least, spartan.  By Thursday night I reckoned that my activities had not met the expectations of three days. Yesterday's demanding schedule, however, was both pleasant and productive. The first challenge was to take some radiator covers to a care home being refurbished in a Hampshire village.  Once the delivery had been completed, I took great delight in refuelling at nearby Dibden Purlieu.  Apart from the picturesque name - according to my reference book, it means 'deep valley on the outskirts of a forest' - it seemed quite a pleasant little town too.  Then came breakfast at Rownham services, sitting on the car park in the sunshine with the van door open and a refreshing breeze outside . . . the only drawback was the constant whoosh of the motorway only a few yards away.

Later, I was able to listen to virtually all of the second day's play from Lords, as I delivered a small parcel to a dental surgery in Oswestry.  Here again there was just one negative.  Although small, the box had a weight totally out of proportion to its size, and I could hardly lift it.  I was glad that there was a strong young athlete at the receiving end!  As is to be expected on Friday afternoon, the journey was fraught with traffic and roadworks, but it was worth it for the delight of being so near to Wales and yet not quite there, with signposts directing to Wrexham, Llangollen and Welshpool . . . and Four Crosses, where I delivered almost four years ago, and have ever since wondered why a Welsh village should have such an English name.  Pedwar Croesau wouldn't have raised an eyebrow.

That isn't to say that those first four days weren't busy.  I managed 13 jobs, but only three of them were 50 miles or more - to Corby on Monday, to Bracknell on Wednesday, and a collection from Bury St Edmunds on Thursday.  The rest were essentially local, and most of them one-at-a-time. The point about no cause for complaint came from what happened between them.  At the start of the week my mind was still focussed on D-Day, and - not without precedent - I found that organising my thoughts, reading and re-reading all the material that I'd collected over the years, and then finding the right words to string it all together was far more demanding than the end-product might indicate.  The result was that at teatime on Wednesday, and thanks to all the gaps between jobs, I posted my 'D-Day Special' blog here.

On more than one occasion I had just come to the end of a paragraph, or of a particular aspect of the story, when the phone rang to call me out. Amazingly, this phenomenon was still with me on Friday, as I returned from the delights of Hampshire.  I have adopted the policy with my 'other' blog of making two posts per month: one at the beginning and one mid-month.  I suddenly realized that, with a full weekend planned, another blog-post is due tomorrow. There was just time to review and tidy-up something I'd written some while ago, and schedule its publication for Sunday morning.  I pressed 'Publish' as the phone rang.

Not for the first time, I find myself amazed at the pattern of my courier work. Not only is there a repeating genie, of which I write here often, but also, when the need arises, there's time to fit in other 'stuff' as well.  And, boy - does it fit snugly, sometimes!