More Interest!

I described last week as 'interesting'.  This week was possibly more so; I leave it to my readers to decide which meaning they apply to the word this time.  Monday was a good day.  When I received a mail order delivery on Tuesday evening, the driver saw my uniform as I answered the door and asked me about working for CitySprint.  'How many jobs do you get in a day?' he asked.  He has to take well over 100, as a multi-drop driver, and only gets paid for the ones he actually delivers.  I told him 'anything from one to eight', and used Monday's experience as an 'average' illustration.

I began with a visit to a tiny village near Oundle, where all the houses are in 'Main Street', and have names instead of numbers.  As usual, I found the right one on my way back through the village, and delivered to the man who had waved to me as I went past on my first pass.  On then, to Grantham and District Hospital, a neat and modern place, much of which is on a single floor.  By late morning I was almost home again, and given two more jobs, one from Letchworth to Welwyn Garden City, and the other from Stevenage to High Wycombe.  I think it was while driving round the M25, that I was asked to collect some white goods in Hemel Hempstead on my way home, for delivery in Hereford for 8.0 the next morning.  I had nearly got to High Wycombe when a change of plan was announced.  In my present location, I was the only chance, the controller decided, of achieving a collection that afternoon from the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford, to be returned that evening to our depot in Letchworth.  Any fear of an early start the next morning was cast aside, and I went to bellringing practice as usual, where there were many old faces, some of whom hadn't been there for a considerable time.

Tuesday started off in fine form, as I hoped for a long job to make up for losing Hereford.  A collection from Bedford for Milton Keynes was complemented by a pick-up in Flitwick on the way back for exchange at Elstree film studios, and return to our customer.  Now, Tuesday morning was subject to sporadic but heavy rain showers, and as I passed Toddington Services on my way back to Flitwick, my windscreen wipers decided to take a holiday.  In fact one part beneath the surface had had enough, after going to and fro for a quarter of a million miles.  I completed my delivery and then made my way to the garage, seeking restoration of rain-shifting services. Sadly, the required part couldn't be delivered until the following morning, but one of the staff was able to arrange a temporary 'fix', using the wiper mechanism from his own car to keep me going.  Wednesday, therefore started on time in the morning, but consisted only of a handful of very local jobs, until I attended the garage in mid-afternoon for the job to be completed.

As I reported to the office my status as once more available, I was asked if I'd like an 8.0 am collection in Letchworth on Thursday.  This was a job to Gloucester that had been requested by the Swindon office.  I accepted this, and duly presented myself at a factory opposite my home at the required hour.  Unfortunately (the job having been arranged by their customer), they weren't aware that I would be calling so early for the goods; these were already packed, but I had to wait some while for the paperwork to be completed.  Once this job had been delivered, I called Swindon, with a fair hope, I thought, of getting more work from them.  I wasn't disappointed, and a few minutes later they called me back with a pick-up in Bishop's Cleeve near Cheltenham, for central Birmingham.  In the afternoon, the triangle was completed by a job from the Warwick office, collecting in Nuneaton, for delivery in Harlow.

I had called the office on my way home to explain my situation, because this delivery couldn't be made until the following morning.  However, the message wasn't passed on in its entirety, because when I received a call about an hour later, it was to ask if I fancied a trip to Wales ... that evening! I pointed out that, while this would be quite acceptable (it would compensate nicely for the work I'd lost through the wiper malfunction earlier in the week), I wouldn't be home early enough to contemplate an 8.0 delivery almost thirty miles from home the next morning!  "Leave it with me." I was told.

When there's a willing driver to do a potentially awkward job, there's usually a way, and someone was coerced to make the Harlow delivery yesterday morning.  I took the goods to the depot and made my way to our customer in Hitchin.  Since venturing to North Wales in my motorhome in June, I've decided to pick up once more the Welsh tutorial that I'd abandoned some forty-five years ago and, as I drove up to the customer's premises, I realised that I could now form an appropriate sentence.  There are building works going on in the yard, so I stopped where I could be seen some distance from the door, and got out of the van.  As the customer walked over with the expected lightweight parcel, I greeted him with "Yr wyf i yn mynd i Gymru!"  I had to stifle my smile at the man's face: something between shock and amusement.  "Are you Welsh, then?" he asked.  I explained, but decided not to translate, leaving him to think that it was something more elaborate than 'I'm going to Wales.'

The job itself was not difficult, although it would have been easier in daylight.  It was to a private house in a one-street village, where a group of new houses have been given a separate name.  SatNav - misguidedly helpful as ever - decided that this was another street, running parallel to the real one.  It tried to find me the right lane to use to get there, as a result of which I now have an intimate knowledge of several inapplicable garage drives. Fortunately the parcel's recipient had heard a slow-moving van passing to and fro, and opened her door!  The rest echoes the history of many previous late-night jobs; I was home and snug in bed by about 3.30 am.

The protracted nature of Thursday meant that Friday began at lunchtime, and I confess I was not expecting anything exciting.  Au contraire, the controller was most relieved to take my call.  He was runned off his feet, and didn't even need to call me back to request a collection in Hitchin for a hospital in Nottingham, and a pick-up in Biggleswade for a factory in Newark on the way.  A leisurely drive to places I'm familiar with, on a sunny afternoon at the end of the week was ... delightful!

Today has seen a bit of tidying up, before going to watch a football match. We all stood in silence for a minute before the start in memory of players Matt Grimstone and Jacob Schilt of Worthing Utd. and the others killed in the Shoreham Airshow tragedy last weekend.  In keeping with the last match I saw, two weeks ago, the team I support - in this case Biggleswade Town - was one goal down soon after the start, but on this occasion things livened up in the second half.  There were four more goals, at least three yellow cards, two sendings-off, one saved penalty, and the result was a 3-2 home win.  Oh, and the man sitting next to me won a prize in the raffle ... the nearest I've been to a prize in years!

Now for another 'retired week', beginning with a family visit for the Bank Holiday.