As many people who have had the unfortunate experience of seeing a loved one die of a terminal illness will agree, even though a death is expected, it's still a shock when it comes. If readers find it insensitive of me to refer to this truism in the circumstances I'm about to describe, then I apologise; it happens to describe for me what I felt last Friday evening when I returned home from the garage.
My van had been difficult to start all afternoon, and I called at the garage on my way home from my last delivery in Norwich, to get an opinion on what might be wrong, and how easy it might be to fix. After listening both to my observation of warning lights and of the van's behaviour, and to the engine itself, running smoothly but noticeably louder than usual, the engineer pronounced, "I think your timing chain is going." We discussed the next move briefly, and agreed that the van would rest over the weekend and then make one last trip to enable me to collect the car I'd already arranged to be its successor.
I outlined here a couple of weeks ago how my original phased retirement plan had gradually been curtailed, firstly only in vague and undefined terms, then to mid January, and finally to the weekend before Christmas. But that wasn't to be the final curtailment. Last weekend was one of making some plans and changing others. A phone call to the dealer was inconclusive because the salesman was on holiday, so I couldn't be sure how far advanced the pre-delivery routines were, given that as far as they were concerned they had two more weeks to get her ready. An e-mail was left, supplemented by a text message, and bright and early on Monday morning came the confirming call. Only one thing more was left to do, and I could collect the car that afternoon.
I'd had to wait until Monday to call the insurance broker to see if a parallel advancement could be arranged there. Luckily it would take a matter of minutes to cancel one policy and complete another, so I called the dealer back to say, "It's all systems 'go!'" Finally what had seemed all weekend to be very indefinite and unsatisfactory was now happening. My prayers were answered, and the van started first time, both at home as I set out, and more importantly, perhaps, when the salesman started it to drive it to the rear of the showroom. Documentation was completed, and within an hour of my arrival, I was on my way home.
On Friday evening, in my state of shock, I realised that while - as I opened this post by stating - there is a fine line between life and death, and yet the two are so different, so there are many other fine line distinctions in my present situation. The gap between work and retirement turned out to be only a weekend; as this week has progressed, I've realised the gap that exists between the semi-retirement I've been living this last year and the real thing. I'm coming to understand that there is no urgency to get done this week all the things on my To-Do list ... there will be another week next week ... and the week after, and so on.
There is a fine gap between doubt and certainty ... as I've already described in relation to the car, but I found another example during the week, when the letting agent came for her quarterly inspection of my flat. For some months now there has been a rumbling concern about the redecoration of my living space. It was always going to be difficult while I'm living in it, and even more so now that I'm no longer working ... even some weeks. Apparently, the designated tradesman was very reluctant even to consider such a piecemeal assignment as had been put to him, so the landlord has decided that, since I have no concerns at all about having the job done, it being perfectly satisfactory as it is for my unassuming needs, the matter will be left in abeyance until such time as I request something to be done. Doubt has given way to certainty.
This afternoon I discovered a more practical gap as I did my weekly supermarket shopping. With the van it was simplicity itself. I pushed my trolley up to the rear of the van, opened the door and tossed the bags inside. Given the prevailing rain, I wasn't prepared to go through the automated slowness of opening the boot, getting the contents wet, then unloading the bags and following up with the equally slow automated closing. These operations might be gentle and dignified in sunshine; in rain they simply afford the opportunity for an unwelcome soaking. I opted for the swift opening of the passenger door and putting the bags quickly into the footwell ... an impossibility under the former regime because of all the 'clutter' kept there for ready use.
And finally - nothing to do with retirement - I must share with my gentle reader a more intimate gap that I discovered yesterday afternoon. I decided that the time had come for a pre-festive tidying of my appearance, and visited the hairdresser. I explained that I wanted minimal adjustment to the length of my hair, merely a thinning out where it was growing too thickly to be easily managed (in itself a blessing at my age!), along with a neatening of the edges. There was a distinct gap between my explanation and his co-operation; or between his hearing and his understanding of my requirements. I emerged in growing levels of anger, feeling like a freshly-cropped schoolboy!
Most of these gaps are, or will be, resolved by the disappearance of one party. What will define the future for me, I think, is the extent to which I am able to resolve others - many of which have yet to emerge - by a gradual rapprochement of one side to the other.
Showing posts with label car. Show all posts
Showing posts with label car. Show all posts
Friday, 11 December 2015
Saturday, 5 December 2015
Hitting the Target: a Problem of Habit
When I started writing this blog nearly five years ago, I didn't aim for it to be just a diary. I didn't even aim for it to be extracts from a diary. I thought it would be interesting to provide an insight for others into what I had found a fascinating, but unexpectedly intrusive way for an ex-accountant to earn a living. From time to time I've digressed completely from tales of the courier life to provide the odd observation about life in general, to comment on pet grouses, and so on ... even bravely to dip the occasional toe into politics! On balance, I suppose I've met that original aim about forty percent of the time, but I hope you, dear reader, have found the end result interesting whatever its diary-like divergence from its purpose.
I intend to keep writing it in permanent retirement ... for a few more months at least. If I find I'm running out of topics to cover, then I hope I have the courage to kill it while it's still healthy, rather than let it stagger to an ungainly demise. As to its diary-like qualities, this decline has perhaps been inevitable since, in order to fuel a portrait of a courier's life, examples have to be drawn from the ... diary! It has become a habit to look first at the week's job-list to remind me of what I've done during the week and hence to pick up any commonality or running theme that may have developed.
It's amazing how easily habits form, not only in connection with the blog, but also in the life it has portrayed. I remember in the early years, for example, there seemed always to be problems resulting from the roadworks to widen one section after another of the M25, there was a constant battle to avoid the delays, and one had only to mutter 'M25 ... roadworks' to be excused for any and every delay. More recently, the same has been true of a long swathe of the M1, from Northampton up to the M6, although this week I was pleased to discover that it's now clear and free-flowing up to junction 18!
During the course of my courier career I've used a total of six vans, in addition to the car I used for the first few weeks. Of these, five have been Vauxhall Combos, and the other a Renault Kangoo. The first days in the Kangoo were strange; the cab was so much bigger compared to the old Mark I Combo, because of the storage space behind the seat, and although the van was rated to carry a heavier payload, there wasn't enough space to make full use of this facility, because the body of the van was so much shorter. The habit of fitting large items into the Combo had to go.
The next change, into a Mark II Combo, brought its own difficulties. The space behind the seat, that I'd then got used to in the Kangoo, had reduced once more, while the overhead 'pod' of the Mark I had been sacrificed for the new streamlined shape. Even the most recent van change was awkward when, for the first time, I acquired a Combo with a solid, steel bulkhead, so there was now nowhere to fasten my trolley. I took the bold step of giving it away, since I rarely used it, and haven't really missed it in the last four years.
The biggest batch of habits to be changed is yet to come; in a few days I shall say farewell to this van that has served more than a quarter of my career, and which I have nursed beyond the not insignificant 300,000 mile mark. I shall acquire in its place a small saloon whose dashboard will bear that same familiar format I've worked with for nearly ten of those courier years. But that's where the similarity will (have to) end. From the start, I must learn to keep my 'bits and pieces' in the boot!
Perhaps the biggest upset will be losing the box from the passenger footwell. As well as restraining certain hidden items (like a hard hat ... what will become of that?!) this has acted as a 'table' for all the paraphernalia I might want to utilise during a journey. In this case, definitely a bad habit to be expunged as soon as possible!
By contrast, one thing this new phase of life will not easily give up will be the driving style. I'm sure I shall - for a while, at least - still be impatient with slow deciders, cautious drivers and learners, although I hope I'll always allow space for delivery vehicles of all sizes, being sympathetically aware of the many challenges they face.
But, even when greater all-round visibility will make it less essential, I'm sure I'll always extol the virtues of reversing into a parking space!
I intend to keep writing it in permanent retirement ... for a few more months at least. If I find I'm running out of topics to cover, then I hope I have the courage to kill it while it's still healthy, rather than let it stagger to an ungainly demise. As to its diary-like qualities, this decline has perhaps been inevitable since, in order to fuel a portrait of a courier's life, examples have to be drawn from the ... diary! It has become a habit to look first at the week's job-list to remind me of what I've done during the week and hence to pick up any commonality or running theme that may have developed.
It's amazing how easily habits form, not only in connection with the blog, but also in the life it has portrayed. I remember in the early years, for example, there seemed always to be problems resulting from the roadworks to widen one section after another of the M25, there was a constant battle to avoid the delays, and one had only to mutter 'M25 ... roadworks' to be excused for any and every delay. More recently, the same has been true of a long swathe of the M1, from Northampton up to the M6, although this week I was pleased to discover that it's now clear and free-flowing up to junction 18!
During the course of my courier career I've used a total of six vans, in addition to the car I used for the first few weeks. Of these, five have been Vauxhall Combos, and the other a Renault Kangoo. The first days in the Kangoo were strange; the cab was so much bigger compared to the old Mark I Combo, because of the storage space behind the seat, and although the van was rated to carry a heavier payload, there wasn't enough space to make full use of this facility, because the body of the van was so much shorter. The habit of fitting large items into the Combo had to go.
The next change, into a Mark II Combo, brought its own difficulties. The space behind the seat, that I'd then got used to in the Kangoo, had reduced once more, while the overhead 'pod' of the Mark I had been sacrificed for the new streamlined shape. Even the most recent van change was awkward when, for the first time, I acquired a Combo with a solid, steel bulkhead, so there was now nowhere to fasten my trolley. I took the bold step of giving it away, since I rarely used it, and haven't really missed it in the last four years.
The biggest batch of habits to be changed is yet to come; in a few days I shall say farewell to this van that has served more than a quarter of my career, and which I have nursed beyond the not insignificant 300,000 mile mark. I shall acquire in its place a small saloon whose dashboard will bear that same familiar format I've worked with for nearly ten of those courier years. But that's where the similarity will (have to) end. From the start, I must learn to keep my 'bits and pieces' in the boot!
Perhaps the biggest upset will be losing the box from the passenger footwell. As well as restraining certain hidden items (like a hard hat ... what will become of that?!) this has acted as a 'table' for all the paraphernalia I might want to utilise during a journey. In this case, definitely a bad habit to be expunged as soon as possible!
By contrast, one thing this new phase of life will not easily give up will be the driving style. I'm sure I shall - for a while, at least - still be impatient with slow deciders, cautious drivers and learners, although I hope I'll always allow space for delivery vehicles of all sizes, being sympathetically aware of the many challenges they face.
But, even when greater all-round visibility will make it less essential, I'm sure I'll always extol the virtues of reversing into a parking space!
Saturday, 28 November 2015
The End is Nigh!
I remember when, many years ago now, I got engaged. I wasn't sure how it had happened, but happen it had, and I was now living with the con- sequences. Similar considerations apply to two later events in my life, and this week brought with it another one for the collection. It all started on Saturday morning, when I took my van to the tyre centre to have the pressures checked. It was noted that the front tyres were showing signs of uneven wear, and the forecast was that they would probably only last another few thousand miles. On Monday I had the van serviced, and asked for a second opinion. They decided that to swap front for rear would be a good idea, since the forces are different, and envisaged a further 10,000 miles from them.
For a number of weeks now, I've been toying with the idea of curtailing my phased retirement plan, but had come up with no firm decision. From the outset the plan had been circumscribed with the caveat that it would only be fulfilled so long as the van should last, but the question has thus far been unanswered, 'how - apart from an almighty explosion - can one tell when the van has had enough?' A further complication was that, whenever I were to stop work, I should need the van to be still roadworthy enough to effect an exchange with a replacement vehicle. After paying the garage bill - hefty, the same as last time, because other bits had needed to be replaced - my future course suddenly seemed clear. I would bring forward my planned two weeks' work in January, and finish for good on the 15th.
Next day, I followed up recent investigations into the availability of a suitable car, and arranged a test drive. I had a family engagement to fulfil on Wednesday, so it was Thursday morning when I got to try out my chosen car. Being basically the same controls and layout as the vans I've been driving for many years, the outcome was virtually predictable. I loved it, and we began filling in forms and making arrangements.
The big snag came when I asked for a completion date in the middle of January. The vendors didn't like the idea of a sold vehicle clogging up their yard for nearly a couple of months, but would entertain it provided I paid for it up front, and agreed to a hefty penalty clause should I change my mind in that time and ask for a refund. From their viewpoint, this made sense, but I said that, if I had to pay for it, then I'd take it before Christmas, thank you very much!
This was much more acceptable on both sides, so in Suetonius' words to Julius Caesar, 'iacta alea est' - the die is cast. I have three more weeks to work, and then on 21st December I shall collect the true symbol of my retirement ... the first saloon car I've owned for over ten years. Yesterday was our church's monthly day of prayer and fasting so, in between three gatherings there, I spent the day tying up loose ends. I re-arranged my finances, and made a payment to the car showroom; organised the insurance for the car and instructed the cancellation of the policy on the van ... timed to allow me to use it on the day for the exchange.
Today has offered a distinct contrast to the high excitement that has gone before, helping to clear the fallen leaves from around the church, and this afternoon gets the Advent and Christmas season under way as we see the decoration of the tree in the church hall, accompanied by the singing of the first Christmas carols.
For a number of weeks now, I've been toying with the idea of curtailing my phased retirement plan, but had come up with no firm decision. From the outset the plan had been circumscribed with the caveat that it would only be fulfilled so long as the van should last, but the question has thus far been unanswered, 'how - apart from an almighty explosion - can one tell when the van has had enough?' A further complication was that, whenever I were to stop work, I should need the van to be still roadworthy enough to effect an exchange with a replacement vehicle. After paying the garage bill - hefty, the same as last time, because other bits had needed to be replaced - my future course suddenly seemed clear. I would bring forward my planned two weeks' work in January, and finish for good on the 15th.
Next day, I followed up recent investigations into the availability of a suitable car, and arranged a test drive. I had a family engagement to fulfil on Wednesday, so it was Thursday morning when I got to try out my chosen car. Being basically the same controls and layout as the vans I've been driving for many years, the outcome was virtually predictable. I loved it, and we began filling in forms and making arrangements.
The big snag came when I asked for a completion date in the middle of January. The vendors didn't like the idea of a sold vehicle clogging up their yard for nearly a couple of months, but would entertain it provided I paid for it up front, and agreed to a hefty penalty clause should I change my mind in that time and ask for a refund. From their viewpoint, this made sense, but I said that, if I had to pay for it, then I'd take it before Christmas, thank you very much!
This was much more acceptable on both sides, so in Suetonius' words to Julius Caesar, 'iacta alea est' - the die is cast. I have three more weeks to work, and then on 21st December I shall collect the true symbol of my retirement ... the first saloon car I've owned for over ten years. Yesterday was our church's monthly day of prayer and fasting so, in between three gatherings there, I spent the day tying up loose ends. I re-arranged my finances, and made a payment to the car showroom; organised the insurance for the car and instructed the cancellation of the policy on the van ... timed to allow me to use it on the day for the exchange.
Today has offered a distinct contrast to the high excitement that has gone before, helping to clear the fallen leaves from around the church, and this afternoon gets the Advent and Christmas season under way as we see the decoration of the tree in the church hall, accompanied by the singing of the first Christmas carols.
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