The week began with an early alarm and a collection from a village about 15 miles away at 7.00. I was given another job to go with it, but when I arrived to collect it, I was told with some mystery, 'there was a job for Slough, but it's gone ... it's not here anyhow.' Somehow I wasn't bothered, and took my collection of thirteen boxes to a smart office block a few streets from Kew Gardens, where, in the absence of ground floor post room or a trolley, I was offered the strong arms and cheerful personality of a young Irishman to assist with conveying them through the front door, and up to the first floor.
As is so often the case now that one's progress can been viewed 'on screen', I was just leaving the M25 when I was diverted to the office, where my next job was already waiting for me, and another was being collected for me by another driver. These took me to an industrial estate in Bletchley, and on to a school in Dudley. Afterwards, as I made my way up the M5, wondering if I'd done right to opt for M6 rather than M42 to get around Birmingham, such considerations became irrelevant, as the local office spotted me and gave me a job from the centre of Birmingham down to a pharmacy in Luton. I collected this somewhat abruptly at about 4.45. I say 'somewhat abruptly' because, just as one eye spotted the target premises on the opposite side of the road, the other caught sight of a bus coming round the corner towards me. Rather than being caught in the middle of the road, I 'landed' front first between two parked cars on the forecourt, a parking position that I would normally avoid, and which I usually condemn with almost religious fervour because of the limited observation available when emerging.
Extricating myself from this awkwardness, I was on my way out of the city, when the phone rang again. "You couldn't do me a favour, before you head south, could you?" It sounded simple: B5 to B15; Heartlands Hospital (no department name given) collect ... blood ... (no shortage of that there, methinks) ... going to ... National Blood Service. I was reminded of my only previous visit to Heartlands, and a parallel angst over where to park, what entrance to use, etc. The difficulties were overcome, and the job completed, but it meant that I didn't leave Birmingham until nearly 6.0, leaving me no time at all to get to Luton by the time any normal pharmacy would be closing its doors. I was reassured to find that this one would be open until 10pm. Even so, by the time I arrived the proprietor was wondering if her delivery would be delayed until the follwing day!
That was just Monday! The week continued with a visit on Tuesday morning to the Ford engine plant at Dagenham, for the first time since the recession forced the closure of a motor component factory in Letchworth. Quickly on the back of that came another 'collected for me' job, this time to a laboratory of the National Grid on the outskirts of Leeds. While I waited for this, I was asked to collect a small package to deliver afterwards to Washington hospital. Needless to say, I didn't return from the north until almost midnight, and I was glad that Wednesday was comparatively local. I set off mid-morning with a piece of electronic equipment for rural Suffolk, and a small parcel for Cambridge.
My visit to Suffolk was both amusing and indeed rural, and all the more enjoyable for that. Soon after leaving the A14, I found myself approaching a crossroads where a pigeon sat, almost defiantly, atop the signpost. Only when I drew quite close, could I discern that this was a very clever model, clearly placed there to deceive and distract strangers! A short distance further, as I drove down a narrow lane, I had to squeeze into the hedge to make way for a tall load of straw going the other way. A little way on I discovered that this had half-removed a branch from a tree. This was now dangling in the middle of the road, preventing my further progress. To the amusement of the driver of the car behind me, I had to get out and manhandle this to one side, unable to remove it completely, but at least I could jam it into the hedgerow to allow us to pass. Finally I arrived at the village, where many cottages surround the neatly maintained green. Very efficiently, the parish council had provided signs along the roadway, and beside each little drive, indicating which houses lay down each one, and urging anyone not visiting these to reverse out of the drive because there wasn't room to turn around between the soft verges.
Thursday presented me with the earliest start I can remember, a 5.30 collection in Letchworth. This was a daily delivery of pharmaceuticals to a medical centre in a Norfolk market town, involving no more difficulty than the frustrations of the despatching supervisor because she had been sent yet another driver not familiar with their internal procedures! Upon my return, I was quite promptly sent to Rochester, and after getting almost home from that, I was diverted to Hitchin to collect something for Weymouth. I hadn't been there since a bell-ringing holiday in 1993! As I neared the town (and the Test Match neared its climax!) the office rang me to offer a job for Friday morning. A few minutes later Southampton office spotted me on-screen and offered me a job to Cobham, should I want it. I explained to both callers that, after being on the road since 5.30 am, I couldn't face the 160-mile journey home once I'd delivered, and was considering a B&B instead. The man in Southampton immediately said that he had a job the next morning from Weymouth up to Kidlington, just past Oxford, "it's yours if you want it." I couldn't have been better provided for!
The delivery made, I wondered how easy it would be to find a bed for the night ... and at what price! The first two places I tried didn't answer; the third had only twin or family rooms, and the fourth was asking a bit more than I was prepared to pay. The next lady was most obliging. She did indeed have a room and the price would be ... more than twice the one I'd just rejected, although she could make a slight reduction if I were to pay in cash! I explained, and asked where I might get a cheaper lodging. She responded - I believe with sincerity - that I would be best advised to go back to the one I'd been offered. I reflected as I retraced my steps and, considering the advancing hour, decided to accept her advice and the room I'd been offered at the Royal Hotel.
The Royal was built towards the end of the 19th century, at a cost of £25,000, on the site of a former establishment that had been a favourite of King George III, and it still retains much of its Victorian charm and splendour, despite refurbishment only a few years ago. The war memorial is just across the road, and it's said that Glenn Miller played at the hotel with his band during World War II.
Yesterday morning's experience provides this week's title, but after their performance, the flock became noticeably quieter, as if moving along the esplanade to another engagement. When I got up it was to a morning of tranquil beauty overlooking a sun-drenched townscape, which set me up wonderfully for my return home. The consignment I was to collect at 9.0 was almost ready by 8.0, and I was on my way by 8.25. I was back in Letchworth for the 1.0 service in church (it being the final Friday, our monthly day of prayer), and in the afternoon my week concluded with a print delivery to a housing development near Banbury. The site was quiet for the weekend, and the sales office manager was about to leave. As I neared the door it opened. "Brochures?" she asked. "Seven boxes," I replied, and we chatted amiably as I carried them in one by one. In the bright sunshine, this was perhaps the ideal end to what feels a near-perfect week.
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