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.

Slow, Quick, Slow, Slow, Quick

I think it was the dance-band leader Victor Sylvester who coined the original phrase, or at least who was the subject of it.  Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow, was the time theme to one of the popular dances of his era.  Not being a dancer at all, I have no intention of embarrassing myself by suggesting which one!  Nevertheless, the idea of two of one sort and three of the opposite does characterise the past week in my working life.

After my usual early start on Monday for the men's breakfast at church, I returned home for quite a long wait, before I was given two jobs, one from Letchworth to Burnham (near Slough), and the other collecting on the way from Luton for an address not far from Heathrow airport.  I'd just delivered this, when my onboard computer told me there was another job to interleave with the one I was left with, collecting from Colnbrook and delivering in Slough.  That left me an almost complete afternoon to myself.

Tuesday was much better, with an early departure with a small box I had collected on my way home on Monday, to be delivered at Loughborough University by 8.30.  I was home late morning, and there was just time to make a cup of tea - but not to drink it - before the second job of the day came, to take some luxury bathroom parts to a village not far from Portsmouth.  Again I collected a job on the way home for the next morning, this time from nearby Stotfold, for a firm in Haverhill.  This was the start of a busy but not very productive day, just returning home from one job to be given another one, and all of them quite short.  I finished up at Stansted airport, at which point the vigilant Brentwood office (to whom I owed most of my Essex tour last Friday) spotted me, and offered me a run to Cardiff that evening.  Ordinarily, I would have snapped this up, but having been up since 5.30 am, and now not in the habit of long runs, I was certain that I would need to stop for an essential sleep at least on the way home, if not on the outward leg!  I quickly added to this the fact that, from Stansted, the logical way to Wales would be via the Severn bridge, with its associated toll, and decided against it.

Instead, on my way home I was asked to collect the regular run to Pinewood Studios, and this week I was in no mind to argue with that.  Thursday morning, therefore, found me almost home, but turned around at one of the Stevenage junctions to collect from Hertford for Milton Keynes.  I was back by 12.45pm, but by then the day had - almost literally - finished.  I learned the next day that the phones hadn't rung at all after 2.0 pm!  In a way this was a blessing in a completely different direction, however, for I found a crie-de-coeur in my inbox when I checked my e-mails, from a friend who was feeling quite swamped by pressures from a number of different sources, and sought advice and prayer.  With no interruptions from incoming jobs, and yet tied to my phone and desk by still being 'on call', I was able to give considerably more time and thought than might otherwise have been the case, to devising my response.

Friday began with a regular Lenten prayer meeting at church, during which I was asked how my week was going.  I suggested a long job would ease my situation greatly, and someone suggested 'perhaps Lincoln ... that's a nice peaceful direction'.  A couple of hours later I was sent first to Bishops Stortford, and was almost back from there when two jobs appeared.  One was to Huntingdon, the other to Hull, so the prayer was rather answered more than 100%.  I returned via the truck stop near Peterborough, and was home soon after 8.30pm.

Today - apart from joining with some other men from the church making posies for tomorrow's Mothering Sunday services - I've been digging into my past, via an old photo album. Just over 25 years ago, I took my children on a camping holiday in France, and when this came up in an e-mail exchange with my daughter the other day, it revealed how different our memories were of what had taken place.

The barrel-maker's house in beautifully
medieval Riquewihr, Alsace

That's not to say either's recollections were in error, but simply that each of us recalled different incidents.  It was the work of a little longer than I had anticipated to scan some of the pictures to send her, since this isn't something I do every day, but at last a successful transmission had been achieved, and I was able to turn my attention to the usual Saturday chores.

All in all, I think I have danced through the week quite well.  It's worth trading a bow for a courtsey, anyway!

Triangles

There are many ways of looking at the variety of work, payloads and destinations of this business, but I've never thought of geometry before. However, if you consider the geography of this week, it's quite true: just look at Monday for a start.

The week began with a collection of some air-conditioning equipment in Welwyn Garden City for Wooburn, from which I turned anti-clockwise into London, for a NW10 collection.  This went to Abingdon in Oxfordshire and just before I arrived at my destination came a phone call offering me a collection in Thatcham for Bell Bar in Hertfordshire.  Two more anti-clockwise movements completed this task and a third brought me home, covering each side of an approximate triangle twice over.

Monday was rounded off by an amusing 'offer'.  As I sat at my desk, wondering if the phone would ring, it sprang into life and brought me a choice.  Having confirmed that I was willing to go out again - it was almost 5.0 pm - Dave said I could either go to Amersham or 'RG27, wherever that is'.  I opted for the further destination (which turned out to be a hotel near Hook), to make losing my bellringing practice for the second Monday running really worthwhile, to which he replied, 'I hoped you'd take that one, because C----- <the only other driver available> won't know where S------ <name of our customer> is.'  To me, this implied that she wouldn't be able to find it in the dark, either! - and before you condemn me for being sexist, I can think of at least one male driver of whom he would have said the same thing!  To be fair, this particular customer's premises are in open country, some distance away from both the village that provides their address, and the nearest main road, some nineteen miles from our office, and both of these drivers live almost the same distance in the opposite direction!

Welcome to England (picture: flickr.com)

Tuesday was taken up by one long run to St Helens, with a delivery in Northampton on the way, and after two separate jobs on Wednesday, to Royston and Coventry, a third one to Hemel Hempstead primed me for the geometric theme again.  Only a few hundred yards from my delivery, I collected a full load of kitchen equipment to be delivered the following morning in Bridgend.  Once this had been successfully completed - getting there via Ross-on-Wye, of course, to avoid the toll - I made for the eastbound Severn crossing, amused as ever as I left the bridge behind me, to be welcomed to England in Welsh.  After a collection just off the M5 in the north-west corner of Bristol, I made a broadly 'left turn', to deliver in Derby, and after a welcome rest at Donnington Park services, my homeward journey completed a very large triangle.

Friday, too, began with two independent journeys, one to Northampton again, and the other to Pinewood Studios, and then came another triangle, this time clockwise, as I travelled to South Mimms to meet another driver. Here I was given a small package that he had collected in central London, which I took on to its final destination in Abingdon.  Once more, my homeward journey completed the third triangle of the week.  Incidentally, the astute reader may have noticed the hand of 'the genie' at work this week, too!

I wonder how next week will 'shape up'?

Two by Two

In Celtic cultures St Brigid's Day, 1st February, is celebrated as the first day of spring and, writing this with the sun streaming through my window, that seems almost believable.  Not so the last few days, however.  Although I haven't been to the worst-hit parts of the country, I can be forgiven, I think, for yesterday mistaking a lake for 'just another flooded field'!  I fear much is to be done before we can justifiably think of a warm spring day, with summer just around the corner!

So what of this week in the courier's life?  By Wednesday I felt it had fallen off a cliff, but now on reflection I can think of it more as a bagel, or a Polo mint - a week with a hole in the middle.  Monday started off with good news, when I rang in after my return from the church breakfast to be told that I was no.2 on the list!  Sometimes, despite earlier postings here, it's a mystery to me how that list works.  But avoiding the dental inspection of a donated equine (a 'translation' of a well-known proverb that a few years ago had one of my cousins scratching his head!), I sat back at my computer, confident that the day would soon unfold.  To my amazement it took until the late morning before this no.2 driver was summoned.  It was worth the wait, however, because I was soon off to take an item to Ormskirk General Hospital, calling on the way at two railway engineering firms in Derby for another customer.

Tuesday started with an early collection that needed to be in Haverhill by 8.0, and a succession of three other jobs finished with a delivery in north Kent, after which my return through the Dartford tunnel caused my prepayment tag to beep, indicating that it would like a financial transfusion.  Wednesday was the hole in the week's bagel (or Polo, if you prefer); I did one job to Cambridge and later in the day another to Watford General Hospital.  By now, the week's theme of 'doubles' had been established, some in their entirety, others in their completion.  Let my continuing story explain.

Early on Thursday morning, I collected two boxes in Stevenage for delivery in the Norwich area.  This was only the second time in my career I'd been to the small industrial estate in Rackheath, to two different premises, for two separate customers.  It was also a rather unusual assignment; I felt like a fish out of water as I followed the signs for 'Goods in' and entered what appeared to be a conventional engineering machine shop . . . with two boxes of asparagus!  As I looked around me, trying to distinguish some semblance of a goods receiving area, I took heart from the sight of a score or so of apples laying on one of the benches.  I had in fact come to a factory whose product is food-packing machinery.

Another 'second' was scored on Friday morning, as I visited Fortnum & Mason's warehouse in Cambridgeshire.  For security reasons it carries no outside identification, and I was glad to recall my earlier lengthy searching experience, and know exactly where to go this time.  By now the week had been quite productive and, given the incessant rain, I would have been quite content to sit at my desk uninterrupted by the phone.  This wasn't to be, however, and before long I was sent to the tiny village of Cople, near Bedford, where I visited - not on this occasion for the second time, but the first time for some while - a back-garden workshop, to collect goods for Loughton in Essex, another place that I've not visited for several years.  Along with this, I also took two items for delivery in Hoddesdon, and the week finished with one in Gillingham, my second visit in three days to Kent, and another reminder from my rapidly expiring Dart-tag as I returned.

Now, with a happily replete Dart-tag, and all kinds of other admin cleared up, I can relax in anticipation of going to a quiz this evening to celebrate the 90th anniversary of the opening of St Paul's Church in this fine Garden City.