Muddle and Get Nowhere

In my native Norfolk in 1893, a number of small railway companies that over the previous fifteen years, under a variety of names, had linked communities in equally varying combinations, were amalgamated to form the Midland and Great Northern Joint Railway Company.  This was operated jointly by the Midland Railway and the Great Northern Railway; it was universally known as M&GN, and affectionately as 'Muddle and Get Nowhere'.  Although having no connection whatsoever with railways, this week for me fits that title admirably.  It's been quite enjoyable in parts, I have to admit, but not greatly productive.

As an example, at the start of the week, I presented my new insurance certificate, which was copied and submitted to the driver admin people.  On Thursday an e-mail was received, pointing out that the word 'Courier' didn't appear on it, so could I provide other evidence confirming that this was indeed the intended meaning of '... and the policyholder's business'.

On Tuesday morning, I was supposed to collect one tyre from a local company at 8.30 to be taken to Kent.  I was given another job - 'available at 9.30, but perhaps you can get it earlier' - to go with it.  After nearly an hour's investigation, interrogation, and numerous phone calls, it was finally established that the tyre was supposed to be collected from the company's depot in another town, and I was left with the second job, which by then I had picked up at a nearby factory.

As I began this present stretch of three weeks of work, I realised that the MOT on the motorhome would expire before my next week off, so I arranged for this to be done, along with an annual service, on Monday.  After (as I thought at the time) dealing with the van insurance, I took the motorhome to the garage, saying that I'd collect it between jobs later in the week.  I eventually collected it after returning from the Kent delivery on Tuesday afternoon.  It had failed the first test, simply because the horn wasn't working.  Once the electrical contacts had been cleaned, it passed second time around.

Both Wednesday and Thursday mornings were spent at home, as I waited for work.  Although not actually wasted, because I managed other things, it was frustrating, especially as I looked back to such full and flowing days only a few weeks ago.  There was more frustration when I picked up a job on Thursday afternoon which should have had borne a bar-code.  This would require different treatment with my hand-held device, and the job had been set up that way.  With no bar-code to scan, this was extremely difficult; although I eventually managed to record that I'd got the box on board, there was no way it was going to accept a signature for it when I made the delivery.  I had to phone the office with the name of the recipient, and get them to enter it.  However, the job still lingered on my screen, so more time was wasted on Friday morning as I attended the office once more to get it sorted ... not to mention also the insurance!

There were, however, four highlights of the week.  On Monday after returning from taking the motorhome for its MOT, I was sent for another 'practical Welsh lesson', going to the Rhondda, to Ysbyty Frenhinol Morgannwg, or the Royal Glamorgan Hospital.  On Thursday, during my absence dealing with that box, some leads were delivered that I had ordered only the previous morning, enabling me to fit up the screen I had saved from my old computer, so I can now sit in the comfort of my armchair and watch i-Player TV or a DVD, instead of sitting at the desk.  I also benefitted from the exercise of emptying a bookcase and shifting it in order to plug the screen into a socket behind it, and then putting all the books back again!

Yesterday's only job was to a private hospital in Sheffield, to get to which I had to pass through some areas I had first encountered almost twenty years ago, when I had run away from home and spent a couple of weeks tramping around in the February snow trying to find work there.  It seemed strange to be there many years later in autumn sunshine; yet at one point I could almost feel the damp and smell the snow ... more ghosts layed!

And finally, today was the annual autumn outing of the bellringers' group. Along with friends from other towers, we visited five churches in south Cambridgeshire, enjoying the challenge of ringing other bells, the fellowship of people we don't meet every week, and the fun and laughter of an away day together.

St Mary Magdalene, Ickleton

Preparing to ring at Trumpington