This is the time of year when weeks take on a different shape. Since my childhood, this week has always been made up in this fashion: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Saturday, another Sunday, 'Someday' and then Saturday again. Someday? Well, Boxing Day is like no other. It's not a Sunday, because there are no church services (except for those really devoted people who celebrate the Feast of St. Stephen) and, legally speaking, if 26th December falls on a Sunday, it isn't Boxing Day anyway, because a Sunday can't be a Bank Holiday. And it's not a Saturday either, because ... well, it just isn't. Yet there is sport; for many years, it has been a definite full programme day for the world of football. Even at the level that I watch, there were quite a number of matches to choose from today; although I decided to stay at home in the dry rather than venture out and get soaked.
"Chicken!" I hear you shout. And you would be quite right - there was chicken for dinner today, after lashings of turkey yesterday. (I've lost count of the wonderful accompaniments that filled the remainder of the plate as I shared the festive meal at the home of a generous and welcoming family from our church, who made a last minute invitation that I just had to accept.) And of course, the season wouldn't be complete without all the other special foods that only come out at this time of year, like the dates and candied fruits, the iced fruit cake decorated with sleds, santas and snowmen, and the tasty stollen (now easily obtainable from the nearest Lidl!) Then there's the booze, of course, (more of that anon.) and the chocolate ... loads of it, on its own in all shapes and sizes, or coating biscuits or a variety of nuts and cremes; even some in square blue boxes imitating fruit!
But before all that, you'll no doubt be wondering about the Monday, Tuesday and 'Saturday' that came before the feast. Monday began in routine fashion, with the regular delivery to Pinewood Studios, and then I went over to Thatcham to make a collection there for a customer in Luton. After that came a sequence of three local jobs that filled up the day nicely, allowing me to join my friends in the tower for the final ringing practice of the year.
Tuesday reversed this pattern, with odd jobs first. In fact, after a pre-booked collection of air-conditioning equipment in Welwyn Garden City for a house in Cambridge, it was so quiet that I thought maybe things had shut down already for the festival. No so, however, for I was then sent to a farmyard workshop in a tiny village in rural Hertfordshire that I'd not heard of in my fifteen years as a resident. (Although I'm sure there are many more such places!) On my way back, I took a detour to collect a package that was to be forwarded from our office to an address in Lancashire, and then a second detour to collect another job, from a customer in Hitchin.
I've often 'name-dropped' about the unique occasion quite early in my driving career (records aren't clear whether it was 2004 or 2006), when I found myself passing just inside the hallowed black door of no. 10 Downing Street, SW1; this particular job could have reached an even greater pinnacle of achievement. The parcel I collected in Hitchin was for no less an address than Windsor Castle! Although Her Majesty would not have been in residence, security was no less severe, and my instructions were clear. I rang the number I'd been given, and the recipient met me on the roadside outside the gate, where I obtained the necessary signature under the gaze of the guards. I wonder what action might have been taken had I not then promptly turned my van and driven off!
Once I'd returned, and agreed that I would be willing to do another job that evening, matters returned to normal ... or as normal as the day before Christmas Eve can be. I loaded as many cases of drink as would cover the floor of the van (more than half its permissible payload in weight!) and set off for the fens. As I entered the Red Lion in March, two customers were leaving. One said to the other as they passed me, "Santa's early this year ... and he's not wearing red, either!" The lady behind the bar saw my white beard and looked rather embarrassed. "Seasonal joke," I said, putting her at ease before I determined where I should park in order to transfer some of my load to her cellar. On then, to discharge the remainder of my consignment to the Three Tuns in Wisbech, where a willing customer offered to help, carrying some of the cases across the road to the rear entrance for me.
I was expecting work to be very quiet on Christmas Eve, but I usually offer to be available because it relieves the obligation on others who have families to think of, and often the work itself is not very demanding. I had only one job, which I rather enjoyed, because it took me to the rural byways of southern Suffolk, delivering a case of wine to an isolated farmhouse in Stoke-by-Nayland. I was reminded of a delivery I made some Christmas Eves ago, to a Victorian house in a terrace somewhere in London, about two streets from the Thames - I can't recall whether it was Chiswick or Wandsworth, or somewhere else in that general area. What I do recall was that the occupants were the wife, and two children under ten, who were playing by the open fireside. As I walked through their lounge a number of times to deliver several cases of wine to the kitchen, I thought what a charming picture they made, almost Dickensian, from the location, and yet not so, because of their dress and the toys ... and the TV in the corner. I was very glad that this was my last job before Christmas. It made my day, and in many ways made my festival complete!
Showing posts with label security. Show all posts
Showing posts with label security. Show all posts
Friday, 26 December 2014
Friday, 14 February 2014
Water, water everywhere ... and lots more besides!
I began this month by thinking about twos, and followed up last week with two hospitals. This week, apart from another hospital to add to my collection, I can bring you tidings from no less than three airports, with their varying stories.
The week began with a fairly undemanding Monday: a regular collection from Daventry for a customer in Royston, another from Bedford, and a couple more local jobs to Luton and Cambridge, and the joy in the evening to go bellringing for the first time in about three weeks. By Tuesday morning it was my privilege to be top of the list.
Called at about 9.30, I was despatched with a box of equipment to the theatre of Hereford County General Hospital. The journey was straightforward, and in places quite spectacular, with only one closed road to delay me, and superb views of the flooding around Worcester and Hereford, where the Teme and Lugg respectively had covered a number of fields in each direction. Respect for those suffering from this tragic situation combined with consideration for other road users to preclude the taking of any photos and, having left so early in the day, I was home again in time to be given a job for Wednesday morning.
On the face of it, this ought to have been a routine job. I was sent to Heathrow airport to collect some items for our customer in Hitchin. I'd been given the name of a contact and his phone no. - what could go wrong? My suspicions were aroused when I examined the address on the computer the previous evening. It appeared that terminal 2B is still under construction, and it was by no means clear where would be the point of access. I decided that I would phone my contact while still on the M25. It was well that I did, for instead of turning towards the airport, I was told that I needed to leave the motorway and head west! A subsequent U-turn then brought me to a control area adjacent to the motorway, where things began to liven up.
The problem was that the point of collection was 'airside', in other words I was subject to all the normal constraints that apply to passengers travelling on an aircraft . . . and not only me, but my van as well! After all the scanning - including the removal of boots - inspection and examination (I still haven't worked out why the contents of three bottles of plain water had to be poured out, while I was allowed to retain a container of screenwash!) I was given a sheet of driving instructions and, followed by a security vehicle, drove to another location on the airport where the same searches were carried out, this time including a body search! Eventually the security vehicle led me to the collection point which was, as I'd expected, on a building site. Minutes later the escorted journey was reversed, and soon I was heading back to home territory, some three-and-a-half hours after my arrival!
The week's excitement was just beginning; once this collection had been delivered (during that day's allotted downpour!), I was sent to Stansted airport, where disciplines were only a little less severe, to collect a pallet of goods that had arrived for one of our customers in Stevenage. Once these had been delivered, some of the boxes were labelled, prepared for despatch to their customer, and re-loaded onto my van, to be taken to Rochdale for 6.0 am delivery the next day.
During the course of this journey and the two local jobs that followed, I had become aware of an intermittent noise. Experience has taught me that noises can be expensive and shouldn't be ingored. So, after delivering a cooker this morning to a building site on the outskirts of Oxford, I phoned the garage. The staff there have always been understanding of my situation, and the immediate reaction was, yes, bring it in and we'll have a listen. Sadly, new brake parts were called for, but these were rapidly obtained and fitted, and I was back on the road - happily silent - within a couple of hours. Two local jobs completed my day, including a visit to the third airport of the week, at Cambridge, the co-operation of whose security and goods-in staff was a welcome contrast to the heavier formality of recent days.
After I'd exchanged the van for the comfortable surroundings of my lounge, I realised how tiring the week had been, with only five hours' unsettled sleep on Wednesday night, and the need for another early start this morning in order to make the requested 8.0 delivery. When the phone rang an hour later to enquire whether I'd like to match this week's hospital count to last week's, with a trip to Bristol this evening, I decided enough is enough, and echoed last Friday's positive 'No thanks.'
Now the weekend is off to a good start!
The week began with a fairly undemanding Monday: a regular collection from Daventry for a customer in Royston, another from Bedford, and a couple more local jobs to Luton and Cambridge, and the joy in the evening to go bellringing for the first time in about three weeks. By Tuesday morning it was my privilege to be top of the list.
Called at about 9.30, I was despatched with a box of equipment to the theatre of Hereford County General Hospital. The journey was straightforward, and in places quite spectacular, with only one closed road to delay me, and superb views of the flooding around Worcester and Hereford, where the Teme and Lugg respectively had covered a number of fields in each direction. Respect for those suffering from this tragic situation combined with consideration for other road users to preclude the taking of any photos and, having left so early in the day, I was home again in time to be given a job for Wednesday morning.
On the face of it, this ought to have been a routine job. I was sent to Heathrow airport to collect some items for our customer in Hitchin. I'd been given the name of a contact and his phone no. - what could go wrong? My suspicions were aroused when I examined the address on the computer the previous evening. It appeared that terminal 2B is still under construction, and it was by no means clear where would be the point of access. I decided that I would phone my contact while still on the M25. It was well that I did, for instead of turning towards the airport, I was told that I needed to leave the motorway and head west! A subsequent U-turn then brought me to a control area adjacent to the motorway, where things began to liven up.
The problem was that the point of collection was 'airside', in other words I was subject to all the normal constraints that apply to passengers travelling on an aircraft . . . and not only me, but my van as well! After all the scanning - including the removal of boots - inspection and examination (I still haven't worked out why the contents of three bottles of plain water had to be poured out, while I was allowed to retain a container of screenwash!) I was given a sheet of driving instructions and, followed by a security vehicle, drove to another location on the airport where the same searches were carried out, this time including a body search! Eventually the security vehicle led me to the collection point which was, as I'd expected, on a building site. Minutes later the escorted journey was reversed, and soon I was heading back to home territory, some three-and-a-half hours after my arrival!
The week's excitement was just beginning; once this collection had been delivered (during that day's allotted downpour!), I was sent to Stansted airport, where disciplines were only a little less severe, to collect a pallet of goods that had arrived for one of our customers in Stevenage. Once these had been delivered, some of the boxes were labelled, prepared for despatch to their customer, and re-loaded onto my van, to be taken to Rochdale for 6.0 am delivery the next day.
During the course of this journey and the two local jobs that followed, I had become aware of an intermittent noise. Experience has taught me that noises can be expensive and shouldn't be ingored. So, after delivering a cooker this morning to a building site on the outskirts of Oxford, I phoned the garage. The staff there have always been understanding of my situation, and the immediate reaction was, yes, bring it in and we'll have a listen. Sadly, new brake parts were called for, but these were rapidly obtained and fitted, and I was back on the road - happily silent - within a couple of hours. Two local jobs completed my day, including a visit to the third airport of the week, at Cambridge, the co-operation of whose security and goods-in staff was a welcome contrast to the heavier formality of recent days.
After I'd exchanged the van for the comfortable surroundings of my lounge, I realised how tiring the week had been, with only five hours' unsettled sleep on Wednesday night, and the need for another early start this morning in order to make the requested 8.0 delivery. When the phone rang an hour later to enquire whether I'd like to match this week's hospital count to last week's, with a trip to Bristol this evening, I decided enough is enough, and echoed last Friday's positive 'No thanks.'
Now the weekend is off to a good start!
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