I use the word 'interesting' in the sense I first discovered in the words of an erstwhile Rhodesian colleague, who applied it to the sort of incident that was unforseen, and the resolution of which would require some ingenuity. And, in that sense, I have to confess to some exaggeration, too; for most of the week did not fall into that category.
And so to the detail. Monday got off to a slow, but triumphant start. I related last week the problems associated with the aquisition of the laptop computer. This was delivered on Monday morning, but not until an hour or so before the actual event did I know precisely when this would be, so I was uncertain whether I would be doing any work that day or not. In the event, it was so conveniently early that I was able to achieve a most acceptable job to the hospital at Cosham, just outside Portsmouth, and be home in time for bell-ringing practice.
Tuesday saw the first of three jobs this week to the Manchester area. Before making this delivery I had already been spotted and given a collection 'just round the corner' (in fact about five miles away) to take to a private address in Maidenhead. It was then that the week's 'interesting' elements began, because to cover those five miles took an absolute age owing to a hole having appeared just before the evening rush-hour (so I was told) in one of the city's key through routes. Certainly the traffic on the south side of centre was gridlocked!
I made my pick-up about 6.30, and stopped at a filling station to collect something for tea. In my excitement, I must have omitted to set the handbrake for, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my van moving as I walked away from it. I wasn't quick enough to stop it, and it rolled gently into the back of the taxi parked in front of it. Fortunately, there was no apparent damage to either vehicle, and I was most relieved when the driver, emerging from the store, agreed with me, clasped me by the shoulder and went on his way. I then discovered that SatNav - not for the first time - was working on its internal battery rather than from the lead plugged into the van. If left unheeded, the eventual outcome of this would have been a complete lack of power, and no directions so, once I had established the best route across country, I switched it off until I neared my target. The remedy to this unfortunate state, I have discovered, is to plug it into the computer to update it, which I did next day.
After this administrative chore Wednesday was, by contrast, almost uneventful with a local collection to start, and then deliveries to Aldershot and Alton. Once more my presence was noticed by another office, and I collected fourth job in Bordon to bring me halfway home. At this point it was discovered that the Alton job also involved a return leg, so I had to divert to pick this up on my way back. By then it was too late to deliver this before the end of the working day, so it had to be taken to our customer in Hertford the following morning.
Thursday followed that same pattern, with a local collection, followed by two deliveries, this time to Leicester and Salford. After picking up the second of these in Hitchin, I set SatNav to take me to the first delivery point ... Leicester. When I realised that, in order to get to my target, I was being taken out of the city towards Peterborough, I began to lose faith in my electronic 'friend' once again. Surely, in this instance, it would have been quicker to avoid Leicester itself, and go via Peterborough, than to be tormented by the continuing miles of roadworks and speed restrictions on the M1?
I'm not sure whether it was the lingering frustration at this apparent lack of judgement, or the test match commentary, or simply the flow of traffic that cause me to be in the wrong lane for my motorway exit. Whatever the cause, I therefore had to take a cross-country route to get to Manchester. It was beautiful, but took at least half an hour more. Fortunately the recipient was willing to wait for me to arrive ... and there were no holes to delay me this time! With no return job, I was able to enjoy a much needed leisurely break and meal on my way home.
Today, when I eventually declared myself 'fully turned around' after the late night return from Salford, I was surprised - nay astonished - to discover that the first job I was given was from nearby Melbourn to Stockport! I decided there and then that I wouldn't be looking for anything else, but that a leisurely drive there and back would round off the week nicely. So I was making my way up the A14, with the cricket commentary for company when I noticed that the image in the mirror by my side was unsteady. In what seemed to be quite a long moment, I remember thinking to myself, 'Uh oh, I know what's going to happen in a minute ...' and by the time I'd managed to cross the intervening traffic lane and get onto the verge, it had happened. The glass from my offside mirror was laying on the road some distance behind me, and I was sitting in a vehicle that I could no longer drive!
I called the office to arrange another driver to take my job off me, and the AA for rescue. Meanwhile I had been spotted by a passing police patrolman, whose main concerns - given that there is no hard shoulder there, and about a fifth of my van's width was still actually on the carriageway - were to get it and me to a place of safety, and to remove the risk of an accident being caused as passing traffic might swerve to avoid me. He explained the strategy that we would adopt, which seemed quite straightforward. I would drive slowly along the road the quarter-mile or so to the next exit, keeping to the extreme edge of the carriageway. Meanwhile, he would be a short but safe distance behind me, blue lights flashing, keeping well over to the other side of the lane, as a shield. I would then park in the layby just off the roundabout.
It seemed so simple, and was quickly executed; but at the end of it, I was shaking. As I said to the officer when he walked up to make sure all was well, "You have no idea how scarey that was!" Actually, he probably did have, but ... After assuring me that to remain there, in what was actually a bus stop, would be OK, he was on his way. My load was transferred to an Aberdeen driver who had been delivering nearby and was embarking on an empty journey home, and as we were discussing his best route out of England via Stockport, the AA man arrived. After completing formalities, he went to collect a replacement mirror, and later duly returned to fit it and arrange payment. Although, once home again, I presented myself as once more available for work, I was rather glad not to be called.
The weekend has started a little early this week, and I'm hoping it will lack the 'interest' of the week it follows.
Showing posts with label SatNav. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SatNav. Show all posts
Friday, 21 August 2015
Saturday, 8 August 2015
All a Bit of a Blur
The week got off to a slow start, but boy - did it take off! I was somewhat thankful that my first call on Monday didn't come until almost lunchtime, because after last week's demands, there were still things to be 'polished off'. I went to Biggleswade to collect a pallet of metal for a firm in Basingstoke; on my way there, a second job came onto my screen to collect in a village near Bedford to take to Stevenage. When I arrived at my first collection there was some consternation because they had two pallets for me which, although I could have physically taken them, would have exceeded my weight limit. On then, to the second point, while another vehicle was organised for the first. The place was out in the wilds and took some while to find. My report of eventual success was met with an invitation to repeat the job I'd done last Thursday, which took me to Weymouth.
Tuesday's late uprising heralded a busy, but comparatively local day, including five jobs, but venturing no further than Reading. Even so, I wasn't home until about 8.0pm. Wednesday began with another semi-local demand, to a village just beyond Newport Pagnell. In its usual whimsical way, SatNav took me there via Bedford and home via the M1, providing variety if nothing else. I was still about ten miles from home when I was diverted to Luton for the next job, going to Dudley, and with it some fabricated items for Tamworth. The customer who consigned these has a reputation for sluggishness but somehow waiting in the sunshine, knowing that two good jobs were virtually in the bag, was not unwelcome. The jobs themselves were not difficult either, and by mid-afternoon I was on the M6 heading homewards again, looking forward to a lazy evening, but just wondering if anyone would spot me on their screen. Beep! Beep! I'd been spotted. Now, the nature of this onboard computer device is such that, because of the colours and type face, I can't see the details of the job in normal light, to know whether I want to accept it or not. I'm learning the wisdom that, if I don't want more work for the moment, I can sign off. If I leave the machine switched on, I can still be seen, but the situation is clear.
So, midway through Wednesday afternoon came the second seaside job of the week, a collection in Nuneaton for Clacton-on-Sea. I made the delivery about 7.30pm, took time out to stroll briefly along the esplanade musing on former times, and then bought a 'service station salad' for tea before heading for home. Thursday repeated the same pattern, with a reasonably local job first, this time to West Horndon in Essex. I confess, I was so distracted by the cricket commentary as the first six Australian wickets fell within half an hour or so, that I missed my turning off the M25, and committed myself to an additional ten miles to make my delivery!
Next came a collection of instruments to be taken to a hospital in Worcester, but before I'd reached the M1, I'd been spotted by the astute staff of Milton Keynes, who realised that, if I were willing, I could fit in this job with one they'd just taken for the National Grid, to collect some samples in a Buckinghamshire village, for analysis at a laboratory in Ellesmere Port, needing to be delivered there by 9.0pm. They were considerate and phoned me first, rather than simply allocating the job, but I didn't see any problem with it, beyond the distance. I would be late enough to miss my evening in any case, so it seemed sensible to make it worthwhile.
I returned from what was, to all intents and purposes, a third 'seaside' mission by about 1.0 am, but didn't sleep much beyond my normal waking up time, and after a late breakfast and a bit of admin, I decided to pay my weekly visit to the office to hand in the paperwork I'd collected so far. When I walked in the door, the controller said he'd spotted me on his screen and had just given me a job. This was to collect in Royston for Trowbridge, and was complemented en route by another to pick up in Letchworth for a Reading address. Finally, since these were both small, could I fit on a pallet from Hitchin to go to Ascot on the way? These three went together well, for the 'Reading address' was along the so-called 'Floral Mile' of the A4, and the only real problem was a major incident on the M4, which threw the whole area into west-bound chaos.
After two good weeks, I felt justified in stopping at a pub just short of the M4 on my return journey to get a decent meal before continuing. Now I can look forward to a 'retired' week with some comfort and satisfaction!
Tuesday's late uprising heralded a busy, but comparatively local day, including five jobs, but venturing no further than Reading. Even so, I wasn't home until about 8.0pm. Wednesday began with another semi-local demand, to a village just beyond Newport Pagnell. In its usual whimsical way, SatNav took me there via Bedford and home via the M1, providing variety if nothing else. I was still about ten miles from home when I was diverted to Luton for the next job, going to Dudley, and with it some fabricated items for Tamworth. The customer who consigned these has a reputation for sluggishness but somehow waiting in the sunshine, knowing that two good jobs were virtually in the bag, was not unwelcome. The jobs themselves were not difficult either, and by mid-afternoon I was on the M6 heading homewards again, looking forward to a lazy evening, but just wondering if anyone would spot me on their screen. Beep! Beep! I'd been spotted. Now, the nature of this onboard computer device is such that, because of the colours and type face, I can't see the details of the job in normal light, to know whether I want to accept it or not. I'm learning the wisdom that, if I don't want more work for the moment, I can sign off. If I leave the machine switched on, I can still be seen, but the situation is clear.
So, midway through Wednesday afternoon came the second seaside job of the week, a collection in Nuneaton for Clacton-on-Sea. I made the delivery about 7.30pm, took time out to stroll briefly along the esplanade musing on former times, and then bought a 'service station salad' for tea before heading for home. Thursday repeated the same pattern, with a reasonably local job first, this time to West Horndon in Essex. I confess, I was so distracted by the cricket commentary as the first six Australian wickets fell within half an hour or so, that I missed my turning off the M25, and committed myself to an additional ten miles to make my delivery!
Next came a collection of instruments to be taken to a hospital in Worcester, but before I'd reached the M1, I'd been spotted by the astute staff of Milton Keynes, who realised that, if I were willing, I could fit in this job with one they'd just taken for the National Grid, to collect some samples in a Buckinghamshire village, for analysis at a laboratory in Ellesmere Port, needing to be delivered there by 9.0pm. They were considerate and phoned me first, rather than simply allocating the job, but I didn't see any problem with it, beyond the distance. I would be late enough to miss my evening in any case, so it seemed sensible to make it worthwhile.
I returned from what was, to all intents and purposes, a third 'seaside' mission by about 1.0 am, but didn't sleep much beyond my normal waking up time, and after a late breakfast and a bit of admin, I decided to pay my weekly visit to the office to hand in the paperwork I'd collected so far. When I walked in the door, the controller said he'd spotted me on his screen and had just given me a job. This was to collect in Royston for Trowbridge, and was complemented en route by another to pick up in Letchworth for a Reading address. Finally, since these were both small, could I fit on a pallet from Hitchin to go to Ascot on the way? These three went together well, for the 'Reading address' was along the so-called 'Floral Mile' of the A4, and the only real problem was a major incident on the M4, which threw the whole area into west-bound chaos.
After two good weeks, I felt justified in stopping at a pub just short of the M4 on my return journey to get a decent meal before continuing. Now I can look forward to a 'retired' week with some comfort and satisfaction!
Friday, 24 July 2015
All for the Best
I've often spoken here about a week being made up of distinct parts, each with its own - often totally different - characteristics. Despite being a 'non-working' week, this one has been the same. It fell into four distinct sections, but each of them had an element of pain, and an element of good despite the pain.
Take Monday, for example. I took the van to the garage for a service, thinking that, while this was being done, I could concentrate on my preparations for a trip in the motor-caravan later in the week. It wasn't even mid-morning when they rang to give me a whole list of things that needed doing ... in addition to the growling noise that I had complained of. In the event, they attended to most of the other items on the list but, having decided that the noise was probably caused by the baffles in the silencer coming loose, but not being legally or mechanically essential just yet, this was parked for another time, 'to spare my bank balance'. How thoughtful.
Also on the list was severe wear on all four tyres, which were now sadly in need of replacement. I dealt with this in the afternoon and, while I waited for it to be done, I checked on the miles the old ones had done for me. One pair had served for nearly 47,000 miles, and the others over 59,000, so I feel they've deserved their place in the heavenly tyre-mountain (or wherever they go to retire).
In the evening I enjoyed bellringing as usual, and afterwards came further pleasure as I thought to join the usual handful in the pub. This week, however, one was tired, one hadn't had his tea after working overtime, and so on. There finished up being just me and one other. We had non-alcoholic beverages, and an intimate conversation about family life in a great many aspects. Perhaps the most telling moment was as we parted outside the door: she had bought the drinks, but it was she who thanked me! I think it had been a useful time for each of us to unload some 'stuff' that clogs up clear thinking from time to time.
Tuesday was the first of a three-day visit to Sussex. I had planned it to accommodate a visit to a motor-caravan centre near Hastings, where I had arranged to have a C-rail fitted to my vehicle enabling me to fit a drive-away awning when required. They also provided a suitable awning, and the bits that fit in between. While I was there, their workshop also overcame a problem I'd noticed earlier with an over-active cooling fan so, although of course I had to pay extra for this service, I was nonetheless satisfied.
I then drove just three miles down the road to an exclusive campsite (I say that because of the fees, rather than the facilities, which were good, but not outstanding). Here I was able to try out my new purchase, managing after two hours of trial and error to erect it and fit it to the vehicle. The most significant lesson learned was not to pitch it too close to the motorhome; by so doing there wasn't sufficient room to stretch the full 'tunnel' between the two, so there was an awful lot of flapping fabric to catch every passing breeze, never mind actual wind!
Wednesday was beautifully sunny from the word 'go'. I had come equipped with all sorts of things that needed to be done, or which could fill an active mind while training the body to relax and enjoy tranquility, and during the course of the day, I managed to devote a little time to most of them, including picking up once more the 'Teach Yourself Welsh' course that I abandoned ... gosh! over forty years ago! I wonder how long before it gets abandoned again? I also went for a short walk in an attempt to discover why SatNav had taken me such a long way round, and through narrow lanes to get to the site, which was only about 200 yards off the main road. I decided that it just didn't like the idea of turning from an A-road directly onto an unclassified road when there was a B-road within yards of the junction. Unfortunately, the required route meant turning off this B-road after a short while when it bent in the opposite direction!
Late on Wednesday afternoon, I decided to take the awning down and attack the 'packing-it-away' challenge, which I knew might be difficult. However, after only a minor struggle (and no more than I'd expect with things to be rolled up with air inside them) I fitted each part in its proper container and found space for the fabric in the rear locker and the poles in one of the inside cupboards. This early effort eliminated the need for a delay yesterday morning waiting for it to dry, and then the time to dismantle it.
Thursday thus began with a leisurely tidying of the vehicle ready to travel, and a look at the map to see what other attractions might be nearby. I found a preserved railway that, according to the internet, was 'in steam today'! I got there in comfortable time to sample the fare at the refreshment room, purchase a small souvenir from the gift shop and then take a trip to the end of the line and back. Here, I found the bonus. As a Norfolk boy, I had undertaken a school project about our own WWI heroine, Nurse Edith Cavell, who was shot by the Germans in 1915 for helping allied soldiers escape from occupied Belgium. Now at Bodiam station, I found preserved the goods wagon which had been used first to convey her body from Dover for a formal funeral at Westminster Abbey before it was buried at Norwich Cathedral, and then in two other similar repatriations, including the famous 'Unknown Soldier'. Although the train only stopped long enough to move the engine from one end to the other, it was long enough for me to satisfy my photo album!
And today ... it's been a wet day. My day began with a quick trip across the road to a convenient car spares store to buy a replacement bulb: not for either of my vehicles as such, but to provide the correct illumination for reading in bed when I'm using the motorhome. I had noticed that the light fitting above the bed had two 'on' positions, but only one that worked. Investigation revealed that the source of light within was a simple 'stop and tail' bulb such as would fit an ordinary car. Remedy was the work of minutes ... and then the rain started, leading to a day indoors, tidying loose ends ready for work again next week.
Take Monday, for example. I took the van to the garage for a service, thinking that, while this was being done, I could concentrate on my preparations for a trip in the motor-caravan later in the week. It wasn't even mid-morning when they rang to give me a whole list of things that needed doing ... in addition to the growling noise that I had complained of. In the event, they attended to most of the other items on the list but, having decided that the noise was probably caused by the baffles in the silencer coming loose, but not being legally or mechanically essential just yet, this was parked for another time, 'to spare my bank balance'. How thoughtful.
Also on the list was severe wear on all four tyres, which were now sadly in need of replacement. I dealt with this in the afternoon and, while I waited for it to be done, I checked on the miles the old ones had done for me. One pair had served for nearly 47,000 miles, and the others over 59,000, so I feel they've deserved their place in the heavenly tyre-mountain (or wherever they go to retire).
In the evening I enjoyed bellringing as usual, and afterwards came further pleasure as I thought to join the usual handful in the pub. This week, however, one was tired, one hadn't had his tea after working overtime, and so on. There finished up being just me and one other. We had non-alcoholic beverages, and an intimate conversation about family life in a great many aspects. Perhaps the most telling moment was as we parted outside the door: she had bought the drinks, but it was she who thanked me! I think it had been a useful time for each of us to unload some 'stuff' that clogs up clear thinking from time to time.
Tuesday was the first of a three-day visit to Sussex. I had planned it to accommodate a visit to a motor-caravan centre near Hastings, where I had arranged to have a C-rail fitted to my vehicle enabling me to fit a drive-away awning when required. They also provided a suitable awning, and the bits that fit in between. While I was there, their workshop also overcame a problem I'd noticed earlier with an over-active cooling fan so, although of course I had to pay extra for this service, I was nonetheless satisfied.
I then drove just three miles down the road to an exclusive campsite (I say that because of the fees, rather than the facilities, which were good, but not outstanding). Here I was able to try out my new purchase, managing after two hours of trial and error to erect it and fit it to the vehicle. The most significant lesson learned was not to pitch it too close to the motorhome; by so doing there wasn't sufficient room to stretch the full 'tunnel' between the two, so there was an awful lot of flapping fabric to catch every passing breeze, never mind actual wind!
Wednesday was beautifully sunny from the word 'go'. I had come equipped with all sorts of things that needed to be done, or which could fill an active mind while training the body to relax and enjoy tranquility, and during the course of the day, I managed to devote a little time to most of them, including picking up once more the 'Teach Yourself Welsh' course that I abandoned ... gosh! over forty years ago! I wonder how long before it gets abandoned again? I also went for a short walk in an attempt to discover why SatNav had taken me such a long way round, and through narrow lanes to get to the site, which was only about 200 yards off the main road. I decided that it just didn't like the idea of turning from an A-road directly onto an unclassified road when there was a B-road within yards of the junction. Unfortunately, the required route meant turning off this B-road after a short while when it bent in the opposite direction!
Late on Wednesday afternoon, I decided to take the awning down and attack the 'packing-it-away' challenge, which I knew might be difficult. However, after only a minor struggle (and no more than I'd expect with things to be rolled up with air inside them) I fitted each part in its proper container and found space for the fabric in the rear locker and the poles in one of the inside cupboards. This early effort eliminated the need for a delay yesterday morning waiting for it to dry, and then the time to dismantle it.
Thursday thus began with a leisurely tidying of the vehicle ready to travel, and a look at the map to see what other attractions might be nearby. I found a preserved railway that, according to the internet, was 'in steam today'! I got there in comfortable time to sample the fare at the refreshment room, purchase a small souvenir from the gift shop and then take a trip to the end of the line and back. Here, I found the bonus. As a Norfolk boy, I had undertaken a school project about our own WWI heroine, Nurse Edith Cavell, who was shot by the Germans in 1915 for helping allied soldiers escape from occupied Belgium. Now at Bodiam station, I found preserved the goods wagon which had been used first to convey her body from Dover for a formal funeral at Westminster Abbey before it was buried at Norwich Cathedral, and then in two other similar repatriations, including the famous 'Unknown Soldier'. Although the train only stopped long enough to move the engine from one end to the other, it was long enough for me to satisfy my photo album!
And today ... it's been a wet day. My day began with a quick trip across the road to a convenient car spares store to buy a replacement bulb: not for either of my vehicles as such, but to provide the correct illumination for reading in bed when I'm using the motorhome. I had noticed that the light fitting above the bed had two 'on' positions, but only one that worked. Investigation revealed that the source of light within was a simple 'stop and tail' bulb such as would fit an ordinary car. Remedy was the work of minutes ... and then the rain started, leading to a day indoors, tidying loose ends ready for work again next week.
Friday, 17 July 2015
Two Halves, and lots of Changes!
I think I may have used that idea of a 'game of two halves' before, but I make no apologies, for the week I'm about to describe has been definitely lop-sided. It started very sluggishly, since I was out late last Friday evening, and drove straight from the delivery to arrive slightly late for the first event at church in what was to be a busy - almost 'festival' - weekend, with a visiting speaker and lots of activities.
The working week therefore began with a phone call to say I was available, and it was some while later that I was sent to Cheshunt, with a collection in Harlow on the way back. A couple of hours at home preceded a later collection in Milton Keynes, for delivery in Hitchin the next morning - and that not until 8.30! This was followed by a trip to Colchester to deliver just off the A12, near the football ground, and Tuesday finished with a journey to Northampton General Hospital, and a letter to Luton County Court en route. Two action-packed not-very-ambitious days, with the usual bellringing practice in between.
Wednesday began in the same vein, with a trip from Luton to Cambridge, to take some electronic equipment that had been repaired, and then a return trip with more items for the next repair cycle. After another wait at my desk at home, came a collection in Letchworth for Ware. Just as I was beginning to despair of getting my teeth (or, more accurately, wheels!) into something exciting, things began to change in my favour. As I was about to pull into the gateway for this collection, came a phone call, announcing an alternative plan. In the next street was a consignment for a hospital in Grimsby! At half-past Wednesday, the week was about to kick off!
Grimsby is a place I haven't visited much in this career - only three times, in fact. But it certainly hasn't proved to be grim. My recollection is of sunshine, and this was no exception. When I was nearly there, a call outlined my work for the following morning, with a collection at 9.0 in Coventry. As I turned for home, came the next change of plan. The bad news, I was told, was that the Coventry job was too big for my van; the good news was of two other jobs that would definitely go together. One was an envelope for Bristol, and the other some equipment to be collected in Bedford at 8.30 for 'Newport'. Unsurprisingly, I discovered that this didn't mean Newport itself, but one of the many places that are unpronounceable (at least on first sight) with an NP postcode. In this case it was Coedkernew.
I was up in good time, and almost to the pick-up point. "All change!" again. The customer now required delivery to a CH postcode instead ... which would rule out the Bristol job for me, of course. I'd just come to terms with this amendment, when further phone calls announced that this change was being reversed. A casual comment when signing for the goods revealed that someone had read the invoicing address and reacted over-swiftly to an apparent error that wasn't. So by 9.0, I was on my way to the delights of the M4 and the Severn Crossing. It's the first westbound crossing I've made for some years, and was aghast at the toll charge of £13.10! Having an inkling of the answer, I decided to ask the attendant about the charge for a motorhome. "Is this a motorhome?" he asked. I couldn't decide whether he was serious or not ... and perhaps this was his view of me, too. "No, I'm just asking the question." "£6.50," he said. "... And it's twice as big as this, and a bigger engine as well" I offered. "Yes," he said, "some of them are as big as a battleship. I don't make the rules, though. A van is a van is a van; it's £13.10, but if it's a motorhome, however big, it's £6.50" Having enjoyed this little banter, I bade him 'diolch' and went on my way.
After effecting my delivery, I decided that I'd had enough of motorways, so when I reached junction 24, I turned off towards Monmouth ... forgetting completely that I needed diesel! SatNav did its best, found me an Esso near Abergavenny, but a) it was about 5 miles beyond the town, and b) the post code was clearly incorrect, because it fetched me up on a narrow lane with not a house in sight, let alone a filling station. I headed for Hereford, where I was successful, with my gauge just on the edge of the 'pink-light' zone, and then made for home. I hadn't gone far before I was spotted by one of the many City Sprint offices ... Birmingham, I think ... who gave me two jobs out of Worcester, one for Birmingham (easy once I'd found the place), the other for a beautiful residential school for the disabled at Mirfield. Doing these was well worth my while, but I had to question whether M6 & M62 was really the best route from Birmingham to West Yorkshire! By the time I got home it had been an almost 18-hour day, of which an hour was taken out for a meal at Hartshead Moor services, and half an hour for a snooze at Gonnerby Moor services. The total circuit was 619 miles!
I heard something today about the mind being fatigued more readily than the body, and I had to agree with this contention. Yesterday's experience was typical. While I listened to the test match commentary I found myself tiringly frustrated by the lack of action, but in the evening, when my accompaniment was a succession of podcasts, and I was able to follow the sequence of thought in these, my fatigue was much less noticeable, although I slept well once I was home!
This afternoon, once I'd surfaced and caught up with the administration of the long day, I presented myself for 'light duties', and did little more than 100 miles in three short jobs, including collecting work for other drivers. Now, after three weeks on the road, I can plan for another week of R&R, the tale of which I shall share next weekend.
The working week therefore began with a phone call to say I was available, and it was some while later that I was sent to Cheshunt, with a collection in Harlow on the way back. A couple of hours at home preceded a later collection in Milton Keynes, for delivery in Hitchin the next morning - and that not until 8.30! This was followed by a trip to Colchester to deliver just off the A12, near the football ground, and Tuesday finished with a journey to Northampton General Hospital, and a letter to Luton County Court en route. Two action-packed not-very-ambitious days, with the usual bellringing practice in between.
Wednesday began in the same vein, with a trip from Luton to Cambridge, to take some electronic equipment that had been repaired, and then a return trip with more items for the next repair cycle. After another wait at my desk at home, came a collection in Letchworth for Ware. Just as I was beginning to despair of getting my teeth (or, more accurately, wheels!) into something exciting, things began to change in my favour. As I was about to pull into the gateway for this collection, came a phone call, announcing an alternative plan. In the next street was a consignment for a hospital in Grimsby! At half-past Wednesday, the week was about to kick off!
Grimsby is a place I haven't visited much in this career - only three times, in fact. But it certainly hasn't proved to be grim. My recollection is of sunshine, and this was no exception. When I was nearly there, a call outlined my work for the following morning, with a collection at 9.0 in Coventry. As I turned for home, came the next change of plan. The bad news, I was told, was that the Coventry job was too big for my van; the good news was of two other jobs that would definitely go together. One was an envelope for Bristol, and the other some equipment to be collected in Bedford at 8.30 for 'Newport'. Unsurprisingly, I discovered that this didn't mean Newport itself, but one of the many places that are unpronounceable (at least on first sight) with an NP postcode. In this case it was Coedkernew.
I was up in good time, and almost to the pick-up point. "All change!" again. The customer now required delivery to a CH postcode instead ... which would rule out the Bristol job for me, of course. I'd just come to terms with this amendment, when further phone calls announced that this change was being reversed. A casual comment when signing for the goods revealed that someone had read the invoicing address and reacted over-swiftly to an apparent error that wasn't. So by 9.0, I was on my way to the delights of the M4 and the Severn Crossing. It's the first westbound crossing I've made for some years, and was aghast at the toll charge of £13.10! Having an inkling of the answer, I decided to ask the attendant about the charge for a motorhome. "Is this a motorhome?" he asked. I couldn't decide whether he was serious or not ... and perhaps this was his view of me, too. "No, I'm just asking the question." "£6.50," he said. "... And it's twice as big as this, and a bigger engine as well" I offered. "Yes," he said, "some of them are as big as a battleship. I don't make the rules, though. A van is a van is a van; it's £13.10, but if it's a motorhome, however big, it's £6.50" Having enjoyed this little banter, I bade him 'diolch' and went on my way.
After effecting my delivery, I decided that I'd had enough of motorways, so when I reached junction 24, I turned off towards Monmouth ... forgetting completely that I needed diesel! SatNav did its best, found me an Esso near Abergavenny, but a) it was about 5 miles beyond the town, and b) the post code was clearly incorrect, because it fetched me up on a narrow lane with not a house in sight, let alone a filling station. I headed for Hereford, where I was successful, with my gauge just on the edge of the 'pink-light' zone, and then made for home. I hadn't gone far before I was spotted by one of the many City Sprint offices ... Birmingham, I think ... who gave me two jobs out of Worcester, one for Birmingham (easy once I'd found the place), the other for a beautiful residential school for the disabled at Mirfield. Doing these was well worth my while, but I had to question whether M6 & M62 was really the best route from Birmingham to West Yorkshire! By the time I got home it had been an almost 18-hour day, of which an hour was taken out for a meal at Hartshead Moor services, and half an hour for a snooze at Gonnerby Moor services. The total circuit was 619 miles!
I heard something today about the mind being fatigued more readily than the body, and I had to agree with this contention. Yesterday's experience was typical. While I listened to the test match commentary I found myself tiringly frustrated by the lack of action, but in the evening, when my accompaniment was a succession of podcasts, and I was able to follow the sequence of thought in these, my fatigue was much less noticeable, although I slept well once I was home!
This afternoon, once I'd surfaced and caught up with the administration of the long day, I presented myself for 'light duties', and did little more than 100 miles in three short jobs, including collecting work for other drivers. Now, after three weeks on the road, I can plan for another week of R&R, the tale of which I shall share next weekend.
Saturday, 21 February 2015
A Curate's Egg of a Week!
Yes, it's been a right mixture this week. In particular, good at the edges and bad in the middle. Monday was definitely a good day. It began with a 'regular' delivery to Pinewood Studios, after which there was time for coffee before I was sent to pick up two jobs in Stevenage, one to Cambridge, and the other to Hinchingbrooke Hospital in Huntingdon. The one to Cambridge was to a laboratory that I hadn't been to for some years, and it brought to mind an amusing exchange on that previous occasion. As she received the box I had brought her, the young lady mused, "OK, What have we here?" While she examined the paperwork, I announced that we never know what we are carrying: "It could be anything from eggs to alligators!" After what I think must have been just the right delay, I added, "mmm ... I'm not sure about the eggs, though." Seeing the bemused and rather puzzled look on her face, I explained that only a few weeks before I had been sent to a shop in Romford to collect 'a box', which was securely tied, had airholes in it, and made noises. When I delivered it, I asked what it was that I had brought, and was told that it contained two baby alligators!
Talking of humour, rural octogenarians are perhaps one of the richest sources. It was at Hinchingbrooke that I found myself walking down a corridor behind an elderly gent pushing his wife in a wheelchair. As I overtook them, I heard the lady ask her beloved, "I'm not too heavy for you to push, am I, John?" Quick as a flash, John replied, "No, dear, but that's a heavy old chair, though!"
After these amusements, I took a drinks delivery to a small pub in Attleborough, which brought the day's returns up to a most acceptable level, which was as well, for Tuesday and Wednesday were filled with annoyingly local jobs, and are best forgotten. So, too, is Thursday, although it did begin with an interesting visit to today's equivalent of a stately home, for which the modern term is - according to the board outside - 'classically styled detached villa'. This was on the outskirts of Maidenhead, where I found the actual building just about complete, and now awaiting a balustrade on the sweeping staircase in the main hall, and all the other interior floorings, fixtures and fittings. The stone above the portico reads '2015', so it's clearly intended that it will be finished this year, although it looks far from it at present.
By the time I came around the M25 on my return, the rain was just starting, and I was asked if I would do a pick-up in Welwyn Garden City on my way past to go to Dunstable. Naturally, I said this was OK, but when I got there I began to regret my willingness to co-operate. 'Dunstable' was elaborated as 'Toddington Services', and when I asked, "North- or South-bound?" I was told "both." I was then loaded with forty cases of soft drinks, duly segregated into two separate deliveries, and sent on my way. I think that it took about two hours to drive the 22 miles, locate the delivery point, attract someone's attention, unload and transfer the goods to the required location, and then cross the motorway and repeat the whole process again ... in the rain. By the time I left I was not the 'happy bunny' I prefer to be! And to crown it all, having returned home about 2.0 pm, there was no further job that afternoon. The only consolation was the later announcement that I could start Friday with a nice gentle run to Southend-on-Sea.
This was indeed pleasant, and provided a welcome contrast to the foregoing. My load was ten 25-litre containers of 'fluid', being taken to a small shop, with a parking bay right outside, in a street that wasn't too busy. I have no idea what sort of 'fluid' it was; I was simply thankful that the consignee was willing, with good humour, to carry all ten containers from the pavement into the shop. There was even a glimpse of the sea as I drove away.
Our church had decided that, on the Fridays of Lent, our normal monthly practice of a day's prayer and fasting would become a weekly event for those wishing to take part. It was therefore somewhat ironic, as I drove out of Southend on my way home, that the controller rang and said. "Pull over and have some breakfast ..." He had a pick up for me at an industrial estate in Basildon, but not for about an hour. I was pleased, though, to drive to the estate, listen to the end of a play and watch the antics of a robin and two brace of sparrows in the tree opposite. It proved a relaxing prelude to what was to follow. Having made my collection I was nearly back to Letchworth with it, when another call asked me to meet another driver, who had a chilled box to be taken on to Newmarket as soon as I had delivered my own consignment. By the time I had done this, it was about 2.0, and I could see the day ending as had the one before.
Not so. Within an hour or so, I was given two more jobs that seemed made for each other. One was from Letchworth to Northolt, the other a pick-up near Potters Bar to go to Twickenham. As I drove down the A1(M) to make the second collection, I realised that on one screen of my PDA the destination was given as TW11, but on the other it was TN11. I rang in to have this clarified, and soon afterwards the TN11 was changed to match. However, when I made the collection, I found that it was addressed to a firm in Sevenoaks! By then it was too late to have any hope of making both deliveries by the required 6.0 pm, whichever sequence I might adopt, so I sought advice from the office. After a delay of about 40 minutes, another driver met me, and we exchanged the Sevenoaks delivery for a film to be taken to a cinema in Croydon.
I made my delivery in Northolt, and SatNav then decided that the fastest route to Croydon - it was Friday evening, remember - would be an almost straight line on the map. I can't recall exactly which boroughs I passed through; many of the roads were familiar, many weren't. Some were the perfect operation of the Repeating Genie, for they were the same that I'd used last Friday morning when going from Pinewood Studios to make further deliveries in Thornton Heath and Wimbledon. I'm not a particular fan of London: in fact, when I started this work nearly thirteen years ago, I had previously driven only a handful of times anywhere within the M25! I was very glad in those early days to be stopped by a red traffic light, so I could check on the map which road I needed. Now with SatNav, however - complain about it though we might - things are totally different. With no worries at all about where I was going, all I had to think about was the traffic around me, and driving through inner London on a winter's evening was magical!
It was a long day; I didn't get home until about 10.50pm. But it was different, and in many ways the best ending for a week that would otherwise have been very 'flat.'
Talking of humour, rural octogenarians are perhaps one of the richest sources. It was at Hinchingbrooke that I found myself walking down a corridor behind an elderly gent pushing his wife in a wheelchair. As I overtook them, I heard the lady ask her beloved, "I'm not too heavy for you to push, am I, John?" Quick as a flash, John replied, "No, dear, but that's a heavy old chair, though!"
After these amusements, I took a drinks delivery to a small pub in Attleborough, which brought the day's returns up to a most acceptable level, which was as well, for Tuesday and Wednesday were filled with annoyingly local jobs, and are best forgotten. So, too, is Thursday, although it did begin with an interesting visit to today's equivalent of a stately home, for which the modern term is - according to the board outside - 'classically styled detached villa'. This was on the outskirts of Maidenhead, where I found the actual building just about complete, and now awaiting a balustrade on the sweeping staircase in the main hall, and all the other interior floorings, fixtures and fittings. The stone above the portico reads '2015', so it's clearly intended that it will be finished this year, although it looks far from it at present.
By the time I came around the M25 on my return, the rain was just starting, and I was asked if I would do a pick-up in Welwyn Garden City on my way past to go to Dunstable. Naturally, I said this was OK, but when I got there I began to regret my willingness to co-operate. 'Dunstable' was elaborated as 'Toddington Services', and when I asked, "North- or South-bound?" I was told "both." I was then loaded with forty cases of soft drinks, duly segregated into two separate deliveries, and sent on my way. I think that it took about two hours to drive the 22 miles, locate the delivery point, attract someone's attention, unload and transfer the goods to the required location, and then cross the motorway and repeat the whole process again ... in the rain. By the time I left I was not the 'happy bunny' I prefer to be! And to crown it all, having returned home about 2.0 pm, there was no further job that afternoon. The only consolation was the later announcement that I could start Friday with a nice gentle run to Southend-on-Sea.
This was indeed pleasant, and provided a welcome contrast to the foregoing. My load was ten 25-litre containers of 'fluid', being taken to a small shop, with a parking bay right outside, in a street that wasn't too busy. I have no idea what sort of 'fluid' it was; I was simply thankful that the consignee was willing, with good humour, to carry all ten containers from the pavement into the shop. There was even a glimpse of the sea as I drove away.
Our church had decided that, on the Fridays of Lent, our normal monthly practice of a day's prayer and fasting would become a weekly event for those wishing to take part. It was therefore somewhat ironic, as I drove out of Southend on my way home, that the controller rang and said. "Pull over and have some breakfast ..." He had a pick up for me at an industrial estate in Basildon, but not for about an hour. I was pleased, though, to drive to the estate, listen to the end of a play and watch the antics of a robin and two brace of sparrows in the tree opposite. It proved a relaxing prelude to what was to follow. Having made my collection I was nearly back to Letchworth with it, when another call asked me to meet another driver, who had a chilled box to be taken on to Newmarket as soon as I had delivered my own consignment. By the time I had done this, it was about 2.0, and I could see the day ending as had the one before.
Not so. Within an hour or so, I was given two more jobs that seemed made for each other. One was from Letchworth to Northolt, the other a pick-up near Potters Bar to go to Twickenham. As I drove down the A1(M) to make the second collection, I realised that on one screen of my PDA the destination was given as TW11, but on the other it was TN11. I rang in to have this clarified, and soon afterwards the TN11 was changed to match. However, when I made the collection, I found that it was addressed to a firm in Sevenoaks! By then it was too late to have any hope of making both deliveries by the required 6.0 pm, whichever sequence I might adopt, so I sought advice from the office. After a delay of about 40 minutes, another driver met me, and we exchanged the Sevenoaks delivery for a film to be taken to a cinema in Croydon.
I made my delivery in Northolt, and SatNav then decided that the fastest route to Croydon - it was Friday evening, remember - would be an almost straight line on the map. I can't recall exactly which boroughs I passed through; many of the roads were familiar, many weren't. Some were the perfect operation of the Repeating Genie, for they were the same that I'd used last Friday morning when going from Pinewood Studios to make further deliveries in Thornton Heath and Wimbledon. I'm not a particular fan of London: in fact, when I started this work nearly thirteen years ago, I had previously driven only a handful of times anywhere within the M25! I was very glad in those early days to be stopped by a red traffic light, so I could check on the map which road I needed. Now with SatNav, however - complain about it though we might - things are totally different. With no worries at all about where I was going, all I had to think about was the traffic around me, and driving through inner London on a winter's evening was magical!
It was a long day; I didn't get home until about 10.50pm. But it was different, and in many ways the best ending for a week that would otherwise have been very 'flat.'
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