Settling in and, incidentally, a Pair of Bristols!

It's true what they say about familiar things.  I remember when my own children were young, sitting in church and being intrigued by the way that one particular toddler was accompanied every week by a certain blanket, which seemed to get grubbier from one appearance to the next.  He just loved to chew one corner of it, and I suppose his mum realised that it brought him comfort.  Hence it always came with the family to church.

Thus, I am pleased to report that the Repeating Genie has made the same enforced leap with me under the umbrella of the new(-to-us) company.  For quite a while earlier in the year, it seemed that my use of the Dartford Crossing and the accompanying 'beep' of the electronic device in my van was confined to one journey towards the beginning of each month.  The last of the pattern was on 2nd June.  Now, in three weeks, I've made four expeditions to the nominal 'Garden of England' ... and most of them to the same small area!

During the last week before the Great Upheaval, I made a collection from Meopham; last week brought a delivery in Swanscombe, and now this week came four successive jobs, delivering in Frindsbury and collecting in Sidcup on Thursday, followed the next morning by a delivery in Northfleet and a collection from Greenhithe - Great to have you on board, RG!

In other news (as they say - infuriatingly in my opinion - on the radio), I made my first visit for ages to Bristol on Monday, delivering to Southmead hospital before returning just in time to join in the national hype over the First World War centenary.  I had warned my bell-ringing friends that, if I weren't working, I would be attending a commemorative service at All Saints', our sister church.  This is a lovely medieval church in one of the villages upon which this First Garden City was founded in 1903, and was the perfect venue for the occasion.  As well as a solemn and prayerful recollection of what it means to be at war, it afforded an opportunity to obtain a copy of a little booklet prepared by one of the stalwarts of that church, containing a brief biography of each of the men named on the war memorial outside.

On Wednesday came a reflection of the more recent past.  I made a delivery to the offices of a large factory on the outskirts of Spalding.  Last time I was there it was for a collection, and the goods were not ready.  While I waited, I was engaged in conversation by the receptionist.  I mentioned how long I'd been in this work, and how I couldn't imagine working once more in an office; she took up the driving theme, and spoke of her apprehension about her upcoming driving test.  This week I was met by the same young lady. Unsurprisingly, she showed no recognition of me; after all, that was six months ago, and the uniform was different.  I did wonder, however, whether she's now happily driving or still worrying about it.  Somehow, in a brief exchange of parcels for signature, it didn't seem appropriate to mention it.

The latter part of the week brought a degree of frustration.  As if the PDA problems I described last week weren't enough, there have also been difficulties getting access to the website where the drivers can look at, and download, our self-billed invoices.  Finally, through the courtesy of one of the interim staff sending me an e-mailed copy, this hurdle was crossed, only to be followed by annoyance that the funds resulting from last week's endeavours hadn't found their way into my bank account.  The same e-mail had also asked me to provide a selection of personal and vehicle documentation to be copied for the new company's records so, as I complied with this request, I took the opportunity to enquire after the money.  It transpired that - despite the numerous occasions I've quoted the data in the twenty-plus years I've had the account - I'd managed to make a mistake in providing my bank account details!  Happily this has now been corrected, and a more successful transfer should be completed early next week.

To provide balance, there was also a foretaste of the benefits of the change in management of our business.  Yesterday lunchtime I was sent to a small industrial estate just outside Stowmarket; I'd just completed the job, and was making my way to a nearby garage to get some coffee, when a new voice came on the phone.  This was the controller in Norwich, who wondered if I might like to pop down to Ipswich to collect some paper for a printing firm in Hertford.  If technology were sufficiently advanced, I would have shook the man's hand!   I collected in a lovely sunny interval between the heavy showers, and then was lucky enough to find another such interval in which to deliver, following which I was tentatively asked whether I'd like more work in the evening.  Having been on the road since 6.0 am with only a short admin. break, I declined, and the weekend began.

The week ended in fine style today, with a visit from my son, armed with the necessary equipment to upgrade my computer system.  This was an exercise which, of necessity, involved a visit to a nearby hostelry, where my weekly desire for football viewing was satisfied by the SkySports broadcast of Sheffield United's opening League One home game of the new season, a 2-1 defeat at the hands of Bristol City, playing in a dazzling purple and lime away strip - strange colours for Robins!