I know it's not strictly true, but this week seems to have reflected the general sense of things being in pairs. On Monday, I had only one job, a return journey of the one I made last week with the awkward machine that needed strapping into place. I went all prepared to strap this one from the outset ... but ended up with a box containing some jars of oil instead. Tuesday's pair was two jobs to Cobham just a couple of miles from each other, and in the afternoon I went to Milton Keynes with one job, and on to Buckingham with another.
On Sunday, I had chatted after the church service with the leader of the Wednesday evening house group that I (loosely) belong to. We touched on the fact that I hadn't been to many meetings lately, and I covered the well-rehearsed explanations - either I'm late back from a job, or need to be up early the next morning for one. I can't honestly recall whether I mentioned or just thought of reason no. 3 - sometimes I get home after a boring or tiring day (especially if it's cold) and I just can't be bothered to turn out again. After a 'pair' of fairly local jobs during the day, it looked as if I might actually make the meeting this week - or else have to apply that third excuse - when I was assigned a 7.30 am collection at a white goods warehouse in Hemel Hempstead.
These two boxes were to be delivered to a building site in Cirencester. They weren't particularly heavy, but were big and awkward enough that, after taking them one at a time up to the site office (on the second level of portacabins) I was gasping for breath. I called in empty, as I'd been requested, and was sent to that place in Thatcham again. This time it wasn't an awkward machine I had to collect; instead it neatly paired up with the Monday delivery, another small box: this time containing a little motor.
I had been asked during the week if I'd be able to collect a piece of furniture for a friend from her mother in Woking, and I'd arranged to do this today (Saturday). Then, when I was assigned a 'blind' metal delivery in Woking for yesterday morning, phone calls were made, and the personal job was rearranged to pair up with it, since the collection point was less than two miles from where I was to deliver.
[At this point I ought to explain that a 'blind' delivery is where the goods never touch the premises of our customer. We collect from his supplier, and deliver directly to his customer. It doesn't happen often; sometimes we are provided with the necessary delivery note to accompany the goods once we've collected them; otherwise - and I always feel a little vulnerable here - we simply deliver with no paperwork at all, and hope that the receiving people aren't insistent.]
These two jobs done, I returned to the office for an almost four-hour wait. Then came a pairing that I could well have done without. I was sent off for a final job that would have neatly rounded off the day but, as I pulled out of the yard, I noticed that a warning light in the van hadn't gone out. Deciding discretion to be the better part of valour, I rang in to the office, asked the controller to send someone else on this job, and drove round to the garage. Here cooperation was at the usual high level, and diagnosis matched it in its rapidity. I needed a new alternator. Matters were put in hand to obtain the appropriate model, and the work began. Today, I stayed in until lunchtime, and then walked round to get the van back, paying out more than twice as much as I had only a couple of weeks ago to get the mirror replaced!
I have to be grateful for the possibility of re-arranging the furniture collection; had this not been the case, I would have had to disappoint a friend, which is much less palatable than disappointing the boss, for two reasons. One, he can always find someone else to do the job; and two, he seems to be of the disposition that forgets these things almost immediately - fortunately!
Today, I have simply had to battle with the cold weather. More and more clothes get piled on, until I feel like Michelin man. Added to which, I think I got too cold last night, and woke up with a headache. Matters are in hand to avoid this possibility tonight!
Now ... what will next week have to delight me?
Showing posts with label blind. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blind. Show all posts
Saturday, 4 February 2012
Monday, 2 May 2011
A Bank Holiday of pleasure
Just think - you've gone off for a nice afternoon's fishing, but ... corks! there ain't half a strong breeze coming off the water ... and you're more than a mite chilly. What do you do? Of course, call the wife, get her to organise a courier to bring you a nice bagful of woolly socks, sweaters and stuff. What other remedy could there be? Well, that's what one chap thought this afternoon, and guess who the courier was that got called in to do the deed?!
I've never been amazed at the jobs we couriers get - not since the day I collected some live baby tortoises, along with their 'passports', and was asked to check the passport numbers against the numbers written on the tortoise shells ... but that's another story, for another time. There's a lot of pleasure attached to the courier life.
After warming up the fisherman this afternoon, I had an hour to kill before going to pick up my next job (nothing out of the ordinary about that one, so I'll not mention it), and I parked at a motorway service station, got some coffee and sat listening to the radio, 'people-watching'. The thought crossed my mind just how selfish some people are, parking in disabled bays with no obvious need to use them, let alone official disabled badges on show. A sort of campaign half-formed in my mind, of producing lots of leaflets to have at the ready in my van for just such an occasion, to pop under the windscreen wipers of offending vehicles - just to remind them what such spaces are for.
Just then there emerged from the service building someone who forced me to reconsider the black-and-white ideas I'd had about badges and justification. Certainly the vehicle towards which this old lady made her way had no disabled badge, but clearly the use of a disabled bay was justified, for she was clearly blind. She was accompanied by a very caring younger lady - possibly her daughter - and had a guide dog, a beautiful golden labrador (or was it a retriever: I never could tell the difference!). I watched, fascinated, as the dog led the old lady to the side of the car, and waited obediently until the other woman had helped her inside. Then the dog came round to the back of the car and waited for the young woman to open the rear hatch. As she did so, I noticed inside a furry blanket and a woolly toy, characteristic of a dog-friendly environment. The dog made no move towards either. The young lady slowly removed the dog's harness, tossed it into the car, and had the dog sit on the ground, behind the vehicle.
After uttering a word or two, akin to a sergeant-major dismissing a squad of troops on a parade ground, the woman stood aside, and what a transformation came over that canine! A quick leap and not only was it playfully inside the car, but it had also grabbed the toy and was waving it around for a quick game of tug - just like any other 'doggy teenager'.
I'm not sure there is any wise moral to this tale, save to say that it's always worth keeping an eye open ready to spot something warm and amusing, and to beware of making ill-informed judgements.
I've never been amazed at the jobs we couriers get - not since the day I collected some live baby tortoises, along with their 'passports', and was asked to check the passport numbers against the numbers written on the tortoise shells ... but that's another story, for another time. There's a lot of pleasure attached to the courier life.
After warming up the fisherman this afternoon, I had an hour to kill before going to pick up my next job (nothing out of the ordinary about that one, so I'll not mention it), and I parked at a motorway service station, got some coffee and sat listening to the radio, 'people-watching'. The thought crossed my mind just how selfish some people are, parking in disabled bays with no obvious need to use them, let alone official disabled badges on show. A sort of campaign half-formed in my mind, of producing lots of leaflets to have at the ready in my van for just such an occasion, to pop under the windscreen wipers of offending vehicles - just to remind them what such spaces are for.
Just then there emerged from the service building someone who forced me to reconsider the black-and-white ideas I'd had about badges and justification. Certainly the vehicle towards which this old lady made her way had no disabled badge, but clearly the use of a disabled bay was justified, for she was clearly blind. She was accompanied by a very caring younger lady - possibly her daughter - and had a guide dog, a beautiful golden labrador (or was it a retriever: I never could tell the difference!). I watched, fascinated, as the dog led the old lady to the side of the car, and waited obediently until the other woman had helped her inside. Then the dog came round to the back of the car and waited for the young woman to open the rear hatch. As she did so, I noticed inside a furry blanket and a woolly toy, characteristic of a dog-friendly environment. The dog made no move towards either. The young lady slowly removed the dog's harness, tossed it into the car, and had the dog sit on the ground, behind the vehicle.
After uttering a word or two, akin to a sergeant-major dismissing a squad of troops on a parade ground, the woman stood aside, and what a transformation came over that canine! A quick leap and not only was it playfully inside the car, but it had also grabbed the toy and was waving it around for a quick game of tug - just like any other 'doggy teenager'.
I'm not sure there is any wise moral to this tale, save to say that it's always worth keeping an eye open ready to spot something warm and amusing, and to beware of making ill-informed judgements.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)