So, what HAS changed?

It seems that 'change' is the in-word at the moment, especially in the light - and the aftermath - of the Scottish Referendum.  Since I referred to this at length last week, I'll just make one observation and pass on.  It seems that greater minds than mine had noticed the 'English unfairness'; the NO vote may have triggered some movement on this aspect.  Whether greater or lesser movement remains to be seen, but it will dominate our domestic news bulletins for months to come.

The big change in my own life - again mentioned here a number of times - has been the takeover of our operation by a national courier company.  After eight weeks, I feel I can make a fairly balanced assessment of its effects. Earlier this year, I wrote here about my 'gold and silver' analysis scheme for comparing the results of each week.  This weekend I've been comparing the seventeen weeks, from the start of the financial year in April to the takeover, to the eight weeks since.  In the longer period there were three silver weeks and one gold; in the eight weeks since the change five weeks have been 'silver' and one gold.

I think it was Disraeli who gets the blame for the comment about 'lies, damned lies, and statistics', and it's certainly true that figures can, in large measure, be massaged according to the desired message.  So I throw out these comparisons with no guarantee of their being connected or inter-related or evidence of cause-and-effect.  Rather, in my father's simple wisdom, I just 'speak as I find'.  Since the change of régime, my average weekly income has increased by almost a quarter; the average distance travelled each day is almost 14% more, and the earnings per mile driven is up by over 11%.  The number of jobs in a week has also increased, from 12.2 in the earlier weeks to 15.6 more recently.  I have explained about getting work from other depots, which is a significant departure from our previous isolated operation; such assignments account for about 12% of my income since the takeover, but even eliminating these completely, the jobs from our own area have risen to 13.9 per week.

Enough figures!

One thing that hasn't changed is the existence of so-called 'bad' days, and my reaction to them.  Let me be clear: not all 'bad' days are financially unproductive; into that category I consign any day that has seemed in any way unsatisfying.  Conversely, a day when I've done just one job that has been interesting, or which might have involved overcoming a particular problem would definitely not be a bad day at all ... such as the sunny Friday afternoon I spent at a caravan park near Skegness, trying to find out what to do with a van-load of medication for a hospital out-patient arriving for his holiday the following day!  Usually, after a succession of two or three 'bad' days, I find depression kicks in, bringing thoughts of 'being singled out for the rubbish' or 'left off the list', or simply being deliberately overlooked.

This week began with two of those 'bad' days.  On Monday I began with a journey to Bedford; next came one to Braintree, and then in the afternoon came a pair of deliveries to Hatfield and Bishop's Stortford, on the return from which I was diverted to Hertford, to collect for Witham.  If you're interested enough to check out the map, you'll see that I had to negotiate the notorious junction at Little Hadham no less than six times in the day, and didn't venture more than one county away from base all day.  Tuesday began with the exact same job to Bedford again, and then fell into a similar limited frame, as two jobs followed one after the other, with no return home until the day was done: one from Biggleswade to Milton Keynes, the other collected from Bedford with deliveries in Baldock and Harefield.

War memorial,
Churston Ferrers, Devon

Then came the day that redeemed the week.  Up long before daylight, I took some air-conditioning equipment to a shop that is being refurbished in the centre of Bath.  I was also loaded with a collection of important envelopes, the first of which had to be delivered to an office next to Temple Meads station in the middle of Bristol before 9.0 am!  Then the pressure was off, as I took the remaining envelopes to addresses in Chippenham, Torquay and Brixham.
Finishing at 1.30, I could then spend the rest of the day getting home.  I called the office in Plymouth, just in case there should be a job going in my direction, but to no avail and, after a lovely half-hour relaxing in the sunshine by this war memorial in Churston Ferrers, I made my way back to the motorway.

After such a day the rest of the week, which included trips to a remote farm near Whittlesey, Cambs., Gillingham Hospital in Kent, and Crowmarsh Gifford in rural Oxfordshire, paled into insignificance proving that (in the words of a BBC Radio 4 programme title) it's 'All in the Mind'!