The biggest contrast between 'working' and 'retired' weeks for me seems to be the fact that things on my desk get started but not finished ... like the references I gathered for something last weekend, that have sat there since Sunday afternoon, gathering dust and making me feel slightly guilty every morning. One afternoon I was home by 3.30, with no call on my time in the evening, and I felt uneasy about spending six hours or so working on a spreadsheet to understand the history of some investments I started when still in employment many years ago. This was as a result of something that had come in the post that morning, and I felt it was distracting me from the work I'd left unfinished at the weekend. Had this been a 'retired' week, there would have been no problem; but it's one I've made for myself, so I shouldn't grumble.
Perhaps this tension is also partially due to this week - the first of the new financial year for me - being what I term a 'gold' week, i.e. when both the actual turnover and the profitability of each mile driven have been above budget, and at the same time the total of miles driven has been below the budgetted figure. It involved four early starts (pre-7.30), however, and on only one day was I home before 6.0pm (as noted above).
After the men's breakfast at church on Monday, the week got under way quite slowly. It was, of course, a standing start, so I wasn't surprised not to be called until noon. I then did just the one job, to Halesowen, and returned in time to have dinner and then go off to a crowded ringing practice. I think word is getting around what a good teacher our tower-captain is (although he's now in his eighties!) There was no after-ringing half-pint for me, though; I had to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to collect some air conditioning equipment in Welwyn Garden City at 7.30 next morning. These went to Suffolk, and then came an urgent delivery of computer parts to a technology complex in Birmingham. Two days down; three to go before a none-too-restful weekend.
Wednesday found me heading early for Sussex, where I collected some flooring, and then over to Pirbright near Guilford, for a machine door. After a brief rest, I was called to take some drugs across to the hospital in Luton, but even then the day wasn't over, because I was sent to Biggleswade to collect some items for a Mothercare distribution centre beside the M1 the following morning. As usual, I didn't know exactly what I was collecting; after tracking it down, the man told me to make sure I wasn't overweight with these three cartons that he carried in one large hand. His smile was almost as big as the cartons!
Thursday, though eventful, was a pleasant morning. Having made my delivery on time at 7.15, and enjoyed an exchange with the Polish girl there over the pronuncuation of her name, my thoughts turned to food, and I repeated a sequence of some months ago, when I'd remembered a BP garage just off junction 22 of the motorway. In fact, there are three BP's quite close together, but none of them has a Wild Bean Cafe, where I could get my prefered breakfast. Step by step, I recalled my former experience, and carried on for a few miles to a roadside cafe. The condition of this place justifies its potentially pretentious title, 'Diane's Food Emporium', for the surfaces were not only clean but had recently been renovated, and the wall of the kitchen area proudly displayed the foor hygiene certificates of both mother and daughter who run the operation between them. I expressed my anxiety that such an attractive place boasted no customers, until I'd walked in, but was reassured that there would be a steady stream once the day got under way. I was, after all, quite early (it was scarcely 8.0). Having obtained sustenance, and made a donation to a local charity, CBTRC, I continued my journey, aiming for a 9.0 collection in Nottingham.
This wasn't to be, however. A mile up the road I joined a very slow-moving queue, waiting to leave the motorway at the next junction. I think there had been an accident, but the matrices were giving no details, simply saying that the road was closed. I found my way through local roads to rejoin the motorway further along, and eventually made my collection about 10.30! After a local delivery following my return, the day ended with the six-hour spreadsheet noted above.
Yesterday was one of those 'start and go on until it's done' days. I left home about 7.15, in order to beat the traffic and collect some printed matter in Welwyn Garden City at 8.0, but I forgot that Friday's traffic is usually lighter - I've never worked out why; I'm just thankful that it's so! - and by 8.0 I was on already my way to take this to Bicester. Then I was directed to a pick-up from a hospital in Oxford for a customer in Letchworth, and on the way came the challenge of getting two washing machines into the van beside these eight items, to be taken to a building site on the outskirts of Norwich. Before I'd reached Letchworth, I had already received instructions to make another collection, this time just round the corner from delivering the hospital stuff. This was a bundle of steel bars to be taken to a small complex in March.
I had already protested my anxiety that by the time I got there, the workers on the building site would have packed up for the weekend, and when I arrived about 4.30, I certainly feared that this was so, The site office and canteen were both deserted, although there were clearly people around somewhere because there were cars on the car park. Further investigation led me to the discovery that the site manager and others were by the show house, which was due to open today, and to which access was separate. Desperate for fuel, I headed for a filling station on Norwich's ring road, where I decided to also get a snack for my tea, and finally made it home about twelve almost non-stop hours after leaving in the morning.
Tired but satisfied, I turned my attention to getting the weekend under way, with shopping and washing, in order to get to a church meeting this morning. Life may be cluttered at times, but no one can tell me it's dull!
Showing posts with label new year. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new year. Show all posts
Saturday, 18 April 2015
Saturday, 10 January 2015
New Year ... Same old Life!
I find this every year. As the summer fades into autumn, I realise that instead of - in this case - 2014 feeling new while 2013 is still familiar, my outlook has gradually transformed so that 2014 is the familiar one, and this new prospect, 2015, is being felt just over the horizon. So, as the 'old year' has drawn to its close, the image of the new one has become stronger until at last, with a great cheer, the sound of the pipers, and copious amounts of alcohol - not forgetting a lump of coal, if you can find one - it's HERE!
Now it has become reality and, having spent my first week back on the road, I can say that it feels little different from the old one; I expect it's the same for most working people. For a start, I'd forgotten just how slack the first proper week of the new year is for the courier industry. After the first few years I'd been doing the work, it was expected, and the big question would be 'how long before it picks up?' Somehow, in 2015, this phenomenon had slipped my mind. It wasn't until I looked back from Wednesday morning that I realised that this week is just like other years, and by the end of it, I find I've earned less than four days' income in five days. How long, I wonder, will it last in this year of gradual recovery?
Other things, too, haven't changed. There was a good slice of hospital confusion to mirror the same from before Christmas. I was asked to take something from Lister in Stevenage to Addenbrooke's in Cambridge; this combination comes up quite often and, although not having the precise detail, I went out of habit to the ward where I usually collect specimens for the laboratory in Cambridge. After quite a wait, I learned that they had nothing for me. Whilst waiting, I reflected how - unlike my work - the 'feel' of this workplace has changed ... in complete accord with the current news bulletins. No longer are there two or three nurses (I use the term in my ignorance to include various other grades on the ward) at the ward desk, beavering away, and exchanging the odd word of conversation. One person only was present, and she busily engaged on the phone. Others pass quickly to and fro, far too intent on what they're doing to divert their attention to resolve my presence.
I sought clarification of my mission from the office, was eventually called back by another depot, who had taken the job in the first place, with the bald comment, "have you tried pathology?" I hadn't, of course, so did so, only to find two other drivers there, each apparently quite clear what they were doing, and the laboratory staff scratching around (or so it seemed to me) to find something that I might be expected to take. It was most unsatisfactory, and unsatisfying.
Another thing that has been by no means uncommon in the past, was an evening collection that could be transformed into an overnight job. It was 8.0 pm when I was called by the night controller and offered a job to Trowbridge. It could be collected in nearby Royston at 10.0 pm, and had to be at its destination by 7.30 the next morning. In the intervening hour or so, I calculated that, by the time I were to get back home it would be 10.30, and I should have to set the alarm for 4.30 if I were to avoid the early morning traffic and be sure of meeting the deadline. I could remember going to Trowbridge for this customer before; I googled the likely consignee, hoping that I would recognise a name from the results of my search of the industry and the town's name. I was in luck, and it took only a phone call to establish that they did run a 24-hour operation, and that the night shift personnel would be able to receive the goods. So, once loaded, I made my way straight there, delivered, and was home and in bed by 5.0 am. Though short, my sleep was uninterrupted by fears of missing the alarm, and any anxiety about the job to be done, and I surprised myself by the length of time later in the day that I was able to keep driving without getting drowsy.
Just to make me feel at home in the new year, it seemed, there was an evening when I delivered a vanload of drinks to a public house, albeit on Thursday instead of Friday. And to round things off there was a job that was too big for the van. In this case, that wasn't strictly true, but the pallet that had been used only had loading holes down the long sides, which meant that the length of the pallet would have to fit across the width of the van ... which it didn't. Apparently this particular establishment only have pallets of this design, but I usually only collect from them in individual units, so the problem hadn't arisen before. At least I hadn't remembered the one previous occasion, until the fork truck driver asked me to watch out that he didn't touch the door steadies of the van with the pallet as he offered it up to see if there were room for it between the wheel-arches. It was then that I recalled that earlier experience, my resulting anger and the furious attempts I'd made to straighten the bent article sufficiently for the door of the van to close!
But it hasn't been a week without some good points. I've been able to make good use of the gaps between jobs, even down to the minute, measuring all sorts of aspects of the interior of my newly-acquired motorhome, and making appropriate plans for an extended shopping expedition today to get some of the necessary items to equip it for more adventurous use than seeing it parked outside my window!
Now it has become reality and, having spent my first week back on the road, I can say that it feels little different from the old one; I expect it's the same for most working people. For a start, I'd forgotten just how slack the first proper week of the new year is for the courier industry. After the first few years I'd been doing the work, it was expected, and the big question would be 'how long before it picks up?' Somehow, in 2015, this phenomenon had slipped my mind. It wasn't until I looked back from Wednesday morning that I realised that this week is just like other years, and by the end of it, I find I've earned less than four days' income in five days. How long, I wonder, will it last in this year of gradual recovery?
Other things, too, haven't changed. There was a good slice of hospital confusion to mirror the same from before Christmas. I was asked to take something from Lister in Stevenage to Addenbrooke's in Cambridge; this combination comes up quite often and, although not having the precise detail, I went out of habit to the ward where I usually collect specimens for the laboratory in Cambridge. After quite a wait, I learned that they had nothing for me. Whilst waiting, I reflected how - unlike my work - the 'feel' of this workplace has changed ... in complete accord with the current news bulletins. No longer are there two or three nurses (I use the term in my ignorance to include various other grades on the ward) at the ward desk, beavering away, and exchanging the odd word of conversation. One person only was present, and she busily engaged on the phone. Others pass quickly to and fro, far too intent on what they're doing to divert their attention to resolve my presence.
I sought clarification of my mission from the office, was eventually called back by another depot, who had taken the job in the first place, with the bald comment, "have you tried pathology?" I hadn't, of course, so did so, only to find two other drivers there, each apparently quite clear what they were doing, and the laboratory staff scratching around (or so it seemed to me) to find something that I might be expected to take. It was most unsatisfactory, and unsatisfying.
Another thing that has been by no means uncommon in the past, was an evening collection that could be transformed into an overnight job. It was 8.0 pm when I was called by the night controller and offered a job to Trowbridge. It could be collected in nearby Royston at 10.0 pm, and had to be at its destination by 7.30 the next morning. In the intervening hour or so, I calculated that, by the time I were to get back home it would be 10.30, and I should have to set the alarm for 4.30 if I were to avoid the early morning traffic and be sure of meeting the deadline. I could remember going to Trowbridge for this customer before; I googled the likely consignee, hoping that I would recognise a name from the results of my search of the industry and the town's name. I was in luck, and it took only a phone call to establish that they did run a 24-hour operation, and that the night shift personnel would be able to receive the goods. So, once loaded, I made my way straight there, delivered, and was home and in bed by 5.0 am. Though short, my sleep was uninterrupted by fears of missing the alarm, and any anxiety about the job to be done, and I surprised myself by the length of time later in the day that I was able to keep driving without getting drowsy.
Just to make me feel at home in the new year, it seemed, there was an evening when I delivered a vanload of drinks to a public house, albeit on Thursday instead of Friday. And to round things off there was a job that was too big for the van. In this case, that wasn't strictly true, but the pallet that had been used only had loading holes down the long sides, which meant that the length of the pallet would have to fit across the width of the van ... which it didn't. Apparently this particular establishment only have pallets of this design, but I usually only collect from them in individual units, so the problem hadn't arisen before. At least I hadn't remembered the one previous occasion, until the fork truck driver asked me to watch out that he didn't touch the door steadies of the van with the pallet as he offered it up to see if there were room for it between the wheel-arches. It was then that I recalled that earlier experience, my resulting anger and the furious attempts I'd made to straighten the bent article sufficiently for the door of the van to close!
But it hasn't been a week without some good points. I've been able to make good use of the gaps between jobs, even down to the minute, measuring all sorts of aspects of the interior of my newly-acquired motorhome, and making appropriate plans for an extended shopping expedition today to get some of the necessary items to equip it for more adventurous use than seeing it parked outside my window!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)