Mixed Fare

Everyone has two sets of grandparents (in theory, at least), and most people have countless cousins of one degree or another.  However, in my childhood there was one grandad, since the other one had died scarcely a year after I was born, and I never knew him.  Likewise, there was only one cousin, to my early knowledge, she being the daughter of my mother's sister, for I had never met any others.  So, when I talk of 'my cousin', with no supplementary description, it is this one to whom I still refer.

My cousin has a habit of tackling puzzles.  She claims - and I believe her - that to use the mind and keep it 'sharp' will prolong its usefulness as we advance into old(er!) age.  So it was, prompted by I know not what, that I was doing mental arithmetic in my bath this morning, and have determined that, on 17th April, i.e. in just under three weeks' time, I shall have reached the precise age that the aforesaid grandfather had on the day that I was born.

I thought I'd share these musings, dear reader, because there is little to tell of the working week that preceded them.  It was good, and reasonably productive, but there were few highlights.  The traffic was so bad on the M25 on Monday morning, that the week got off to a very bad start.  I had thought that an extra half-hour ought to be enough to allow me to get to Camberley for 7.30, but I eventually arrived at 8.35!  As I made my profuse apologies, my ears seemed to hear music, for I was kindly, but promptly told that had I arrived at 7.30, there would have been no one there!  This was followed by a puzzled enquiry what it was that I was hoping to collect, for they had not requested a collection.  Eventually all was made clear, that I was there to correct an error made by another courier company on the previous Friday, by picking up a parcel they had delivered by mistake, and take it where it should have gone.  Why people can't correct their own mistakes, I don't understand!

On Tuesday came a job that I was determined would not be late!  Last time I did this run, from Baldock to Slough, I had been diverted to another job, and then delayed by an accident along the way, so that delivery had come a massive five hours after collection.  So, I was on the doorstep promptly at 8.0, had no holdups at all, and had remembered that the entrance to the destination building was on a different road, which had added a further five minutes to my time on the last occasion!

The biggest job of the week - nay, of the year, I think - came to me on Wednesday, when I was given a box to be delivered between 8.0 and 9.0 the following morning in a tiny place called Cwmfelinfach.  You will have already concluded that this is in Wales; in fact it's not far from Newport, but is more easily reached from the north than by going into the town.  This justified, if justification were necessary, my normal decision to go to south Wales via the M1 and Ross-on-Wye rather than the M4 and the Severn tolls.

Somewhere in the distant past, I've heard a saying about sleep and late night habits, 'one hour before eleven is worth two after.'  This certainly proved true on this occasion.  I had made my preparations and was into bed on Wednesday evening by about 8.0, only to wake up just before 10.0.  As is often the case when I try to shunt my night's sleep forward a few hours, I was awake again by 1.0am, and only really dozed after that.  By 2.50, I decided to get up rather than toss and turn for another half-hour until the alarm should go off.  When I did leave, at about 3.30, I didn't stop at all until I got to Monmouth, and didn't need any delay for a doze.  Although unnecessary for financial reasons (the toll is payable going into Wales, but not coming back to England), I decided to return the same way, and stopped at the High Noon services on the A40 just north of Monmouth for breakfast. I've been there before, and enjoy the tranquility and the super view of the hills between the road and the Wye.

Amazingly, I was spotted on my way back by the office at Warwick, who invited me to choose between two jobs for which they would like to enlist my help.  These were two of a whole cluster to be picked up at a warehouse near the A5 in Lutterworth, going to a variety of destinations across a swathe of the midlands.  The choice I had was either Derby and Mansfield, or Nottingham, so partly because of the distance, and partly because I know the place better, I chose Nottingham, and was rewarded in that what appeared on paper to be two deliveries, were in fact to the very same building.

As if to bear out the truth of that saying, I arrived back in Letchworth about 4.30, and wasn't even feeling tired!  Sadly, the same can't be said of today, however, after a day's bell-ringing.  In our annual spring outing, we visited six churches, none more than a dozen miles from home, but with bells either heavier or harder work - sometimes both - than our own, it proved quite an exhausting, if enjoyable day.

Now for a work-free week in which to recover!