The week began with something of a splendid Monday - not a record, perhaps, but a level not often achieved without a visit north of the border! It began with a collection near Potters Bar of some plants for an establishment in Poole. I stopped for early refreshment at South Mimms services, and just as I left there came advice of another job to be collected from Hertford before I did battle with the M25. This was going to Swindon, and I diverted to deliver it first before heading for the seaside. I had just returned to the van after making the Poole delivery when a call from another branch sent me just three miles down the road for a pick-up going to Heathrow.
The shine was knocked of an otherwise glorious day as I realised that I was getting cold. Somehow the heating in the van was off. I had encountered this problem a few weeks ago, and recalled feeling rather sheepish when the chap at the garage simply filled the cooling system with water. I have water with me, so tried this remedy. It worked, but only for about a hundred miles before needing to be filled again, and the third occasion came even sooner. Clearly something was wrong, and getting worse! Next day I appeared early on the doorstep of the garage, and spent my day at home before it had been fixed. The problem was a component hidden deep within the engine, and its replacement was most demanding of labour, patience, and the fruit of my wallet!
Two comparatively modest jobs on Wednesday in my toastie-warm van brought the week back into equilibrium, before Thursday began with a sequence of three, collecting in heavy rain from a customer in Hitchin, on a regular journey to the business park at Swavesey; over to the West Suffolk Hospital for another regular collection for a laboratory in Royston, and then a short run from Letchworth to Luton & Dunstable hospital. I had time to get halfway through my weekly bookwork before being summoned to collect two jobs from Sandy. The first was a batch of flower samples for a national supermarket, and the second a small package to be delivered not far from Gatwick Airport.
The lady who had provided the flowers was in generous - or festive - mood and (not for the first time) offered me some of the cast-aside blooms that had just missed being included in the premier displays I was to deliver. So on my way home from Gatwick I diverted to share my good fortune between two lucky ladies in my home town.
The working week was rounded off by a day that sent me in succession to three of the four points of the compass. I started with an 8.15 print collection for an estate agent in Colchester, followed quickly by some technical equipment for an address in Farnborough, and just as I left there I was asked if I could do another job in the early evening. When I said I could, I was told of a delivery that would be ready for collection soon after 4.0 in Houghton Regis for Thame.
To corrupt a well-known axiom, it's the season for the reason for the season. In the run-up to Christmas the diary is so full there are definitely some things that just can't be fitted in. Music practices for the annual carol service at church are being slotted in left, right and centre, with the hope that as many as can will turn up when we are available. I think I've missed four now, but am gradually getting to grips with two delightful modern pieces that none of us had seen before. Although home too late to sing last night, I knew the supermarket would be open, so the shopping at least could be crossed off. In contrast, today's diary page is blank, and I was glad of a time for 'catch-up'. By about 11.0 I was ready to go out, and in view of the glorious sunshine I decided on walking into town, where I had intended to rectify three items I noted had been missed from last night's shopping.
I was late enough to check my post before leaving home, and it was good that I was. A few weeks ago I had had a letter from DWP enclosing a one from a famous life assurance firm, who were trying to trace me in order to secure my instructions regarding a company pension from the mid 1970s. It was one I'd been unable to trace when I sorted out my pensions early last year, and I had consigned the minuscule amount, generated by only about a year's contributions, to that big bin that is labeled 'Experience'. Today, however, after a simple letter of acceptance, I received the cheque for the entire sum, which, if left intact, would have provided me with a magnificant annual pension of £9.01 for life!
As I passed through the town I couldn't resist the stall outside the bookshop! I came away with three small volumes ... which, as I paid for them, I described to the manager as 'forbidden fruit'. Now I have to find space on my crowded shelves for a book of Suffolk remembrances, one of agricultural statistics, and a beautiful Folio Society edition of Parson Woodforde's Diary.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Following a spate of spam comments, all comments on this blog are moderated. Only genuine comments on the content will be published or responded to.