On Thursday morning I was given a lesson in humility. "What have you done so far today?" I was asked. I replied, with cold accuracy and not a little bitterness, "I've got up, and had my breakfast," thinking as I did so that the people in the office didn't have a clue what was going on. "I didn't get in until 2.15!" By then it was about 10.40 am, and I'd just rung in to announce my availability for work. After ending the call, I calmed down and realised that while there's only one of me in my little world, there are over fifty drivers in their world, and several controllers looking after them, so it wasn't unreasonable that, at that hour of the morning, the one who answered my call should assume that I'd already been out, and had just returned home.
But to start at the beginning of a week that has returned my highest mileage total since Christmas (1,974) ...
Monday this week bore several resemblances to Monday of last week. On each occasion, as I left church after the early breakfast, I told my friends that, no, I didn't know where I'd be going, because I'd been out late on Friday, so would have to ring in and start from scratch. On each occasion, I discovered that I'd been left on the list when given a late job on Friday, so would soon be going out. And on each occasion, I had been sent to Swindon. There the two diverge for, while last week found me walking around in the city centre sunshine, this week's Swindon was another of those 'postal town vagaries', and turned out to be Royal Wootton Bassett. There was nothing special about the job itself, but the Monday similarity continued afterwards. Just like last week, I was given another job when I called in to the office with my paperwork. The timing was different however. Whereas last week I'd been sent on a comparatively local run to Northampton, and later enjoyed an evening's ringing, this time it was nearer closing time, and I was asked if I'd like to go to Liverpool (notice how the phrasing changes as evening approaches!)
Not one to turn down work without good reason, I said OK, and was soon off with a couple of items for a national newspaper firm. Knowing that they operated on a 24-hour basis, I stopped briefly at the truck-stop for a meal on the way, arrived around 10.30, and was home by 4.0 am.
I rang in after breakfast on Tuesday to find that - by then - the list was a short one, and I was soon called back with two jobs, one to nearby Milton Keynes, the other nominally to Chester, which I discovered on collection was actually to an aircraft factory just over the border into north Wales. My arrival there had been hampered by an accident just outside Chester, and I had no desire to get held up a second time so, after a quick check on the map, I decided to make a pleasure out of necessity and take a different route home. Passing through Wrexham, I headed for Telford thinking that, if nothing caught my eye in the meantime, there would be something to eat at the motorway services there. Passing round the Shrewsbury ring road, I spotted a sign for 'services', rejected the possibilities of Starbucks and Burger King, and found myself in a pleasant eatery called the 'Two Henrys'. Named after the two protagonists, King Henry IV, and Henry Percy ('Harry Hotspur'), it is on or near the site of the 1403 Battle of Shrewsbury. Fed in both body and mind, I then made my way home, and was pleased to be home far earlier than the previous day, albeit still 11.0!
Wednesday promised to be another late start, but when I rang in around 8.30, I was almost immediately given a job, on the basis that it was one that I'd done several times before, and would therefore know where I was going. This was a collection at West Suffolk Hospital, for a laboratory in Royston - the reverse of the job referred to briefly here only a couple of weeks ago, when I visited four hospitals in one day. This visit, too, was part of a 'multi-hospital, day since only a half-hour or so after my return I was despatched to Hexham General with some equipment required for surgery the following day. It was a pleasant day spent in the company of commentary on the first day of the Ashes Test Match and, with my delivery made by 7.0, I retraced my steps just a few miles for my second consecutive pub meal, this time at the Wellington Hotel, Riding Mill. As previously declared, this third late night ended at a time nicely between the previous two, at 2.15.
After the 'lesson in humility' mentioned at the top of this piece, my only job on Thursday was prolonged by adding a second accident to this week's total. This severely delayed my journey round the M25, to deliver some artwork to a café being refurbished in Esher. The collection had already been hampered by roadworks, but after the foregoing days, I was so much in 'relax mode' that my only thought was gratitude that the job wasn't an urgent one. Given that I couldn't focus my attention on either the computer screen or the book I tried to read instead, I think I can be forgiven for indulging in an early night. It did me little good, however, and I was awake by 5.0 am and soon ready to leave for the next assignment - the first of two enjoyable journeys into Suffolk.
With breakfast on the way, I made it to Halesworth comfortably early, and was on my way to our customer in Luton with the goods I'd collected by the planned 10.0. A comfortable coffee break at home, listening to the Test Match was followed by the second trip to the 'old country': this time to deliver some paint to Haverhill. In these two days, I've earned only about a day's income, but after the exhaustion of days one to three, I feel unperturbed, even though I'm faced with a day off on Monday. This is because the van's exhaust gas recirculation valve is playing up, and since the van is almost due for another service anyway, it seems good economic strategy to arrange for both jobs to be done together.
After release from a third trip to Suffolk because the job was too big for my van, I'm also free of the consequent delivery in Stoke-upon-Trent tomorrow morning, so instead I can look forward to a lazy weekend: - I can't decide whether to dream up something exciting to do, or simply relax.
Friday, 12 July 2013
Sunday, 7 July 2013
A Good Mixture
It's been a good week - and not just because of the weather. It's been what my dad might have called a 'rum ow mixture': a bit of this, and a bit of that, and not too much of anything. It began on Monday with a standing start: I rang in to say I was available for work. It wasn't long before I was sent to a customer in Houghton Regis to collect a small package for a soon-to-open shop in the centre of Swindon. In the afternoon, after the regular weekly document exchange at the office, I went to an industrial unit on the outskirts of Northampton, but was home in time for bell-ringing practice in the evening.
Tuesday and Wednesday each began with a fairly local job pre-booked from the previous evening. On Tuesday I collected a van-load of electronics for a high security establishment on the outskirts of Milton Keynes. Never having been there before, I approached the gatehouse with some trepidation, but received an unexpectedly relaxed and warm welcome, clear directions where I should go, and a cheery wave as I departed. The elation of this job was deflated somewhat by the one that followed. I was sent to a luxury hotel near Cambridge to collect 'a grey canvas bag' on behalf of a client in Hoddesdon. I guessed that someone had left their luggage behind - an event not without precedent. In this case, however, I got it wrong: this grey canvas bag was large and flat, and clearly contained a display unit that had been used at a promotional gathering, but which was far too big to go into a salesperson's company car. The day ended with a visit to a private hospital in Cheam, along with instructions for Wednesday morning.
Wednesday's local start took me only to Dunstable, and then I collected at a medical firm in Letchworth for the first of three trips this week to another private hospital, this time near to Gatwick airport. I had returned from this delivery, and was enjoying a welcome cup of coffee after some strenuous domestic activity (see below), when a familiar question came down the phone line. 'Are you all right for ...', which is code for 'I've got a long job here, and I'd like you to do it.' By now it was 3.15pm, and this enquiry related to a delivery that evening in Leeds. On the way to collecting this, I did another short job from Hitchin to a factory in a nearby village, and was asked if I'd mind going on to somewhere with 24-hour access in Newcastle, after I'd delivered in Leeds. Recalling an old saying about 'never rains but it pours', I said 'OK', and collected this job in Letchworth before making my way up the A1 to Sandy for the other one.
The Leeds delivery was to the semi-pedestrianised city centre, where a gang was working on a new shopping mall. With the problem of one-way streets and others closed off by bollards, my final access was interesting, to say the least, and I was glad of two mobile phone nos., and someone who could meet me where I'd parked and guide me to where the goods were wanted. At about 8.30, I headed further north, to the Team Valley Business Park, which is actually in Gateshead rather than Newcastle, but only a pedant (like me) would draw this distinction. With this second delivery made at 10.35, I began the reverse journey. I stopped at Boroughbridge, finding a convenient turning-that-goes-nowhere where I could park up and get some sleep, and then gently made for the same diner at Stibbington for breakfast at the same table where I'd eaten cottage pie only a few hours before.
On the home front this week, the great excitement was my landlord's plan to have the interior window frames repainted. On Sunday I began a complicated plan to re-arrange my furniture so as to allow the painter unhindered access, which necessitated rendering some items completely unusable for the week, owing to storing others close by, and in some cases on top of them. This had been completed on Wednesday, just before the phone call that sent me to distant places far to the north. I returned on Thursday morning with sufficient time to catch up with the washing-up, and put things away by the time the painter arrived.
Once Thursday had properly started, I was content to be given a repeat of the job I'd done the previous morning, to the hospital in Gatwick, complemented this time by a collection in Camberley afterwards for a customer in Flitwick.
I slept well on Thursday night, and was rewarded on Friday morning with a job that was very much a 'blast from the past'. This was a delivery from a client in Royston to their customer in Harwich, a job that had been quite frequent in 2007/8, but that had not appeared, on my radar at least, since then. The destination is right by the waterfront, and the journey there far from unpleasant, so I was quite pleased to be given the job. My pleasure waned a little when I found myself in a traffic hold-up on the way home, but even this had its blessings. After only a short delay, I was able to follow a small convoy of other vehicles through an industrial estate on the outskirts of Colchester to a roundabout over the blocked A12. Here service station provided a lovely peaceful lunch location. By the time I'd eaten a prepared salad, the road was clear again.
It seemed likely, as I rang in about 3.15pm, that the week might be over. This was indeed a foolish thought for, almost on the dot of 4.0, came the third visit in as many days to that hospital in Gatwick. When I arrived at 7.30, I found the delivery office closed as I'd expected, so was guided to the theatre with my consignment. Here I felt obliged to apologise - on behalf of the M25 - for the late delivery, which amused the assistant who received the goods, and in turn put me in a good mood for the trip home.
The weekend has consisted largely in getting my home back to normal, following the retreat of the painter during my absence on Friday. A pleasant interruption to this exercise came yesterday afternoon with the annual Striking Competition, a bell-ringing tournament in which teams from the local churches attempt to achieve the most regular striking of a set length of ringing. Our team came fourth out of the five competing this year, which was only just below our expectations, there being one or two larger towers who have established prowess in these skills, and a history of regular success in the contest.
Tuesday and Wednesday each began with a fairly local job pre-booked from the previous evening. On Tuesday I collected a van-load of electronics for a high security establishment on the outskirts of Milton Keynes. Never having been there before, I approached the gatehouse with some trepidation, but received an unexpectedly relaxed and warm welcome, clear directions where I should go, and a cheery wave as I departed. The elation of this job was deflated somewhat by the one that followed. I was sent to a luxury hotel near Cambridge to collect 'a grey canvas bag' on behalf of a client in Hoddesdon. I guessed that someone had left their luggage behind - an event not without precedent. In this case, however, I got it wrong: this grey canvas bag was large and flat, and clearly contained a display unit that had been used at a promotional gathering, but which was far too big to go into a salesperson's company car. The day ended with a visit to a private hospital in Cheam, along with instructions for Wednesday morning.
Wednesday's local start took me only to Dunstable, and then I collected at a medical firm in Letchworth for the first of three trips this week to another private hospital, this time near to Gatwick airport. I had returned from this delivery, and was enjoying a welcome cup of coffee after some strenuous domestic activity (see below), when a familiar question came down the phone line. 'Are you all right for ...', which is code for 'I've got a long job here, and I'd like you to do it.' By now it was 3.15pm, and this enquiry related to a delivery that evening in Leeds. On the way to collecting this, I did another short job from Hitchin to a factory in a nearby village, and was asked if I'd mind going on to somewhere with 24-hour access in Newcastle, after I'd delivered in Leeds. Recalling an old saying about 'never rains but it pours', I said 'OK', and collected this job in Letchworth before making my way up the A1 to Sandy for the other one.
The Leeds delivery was to the semi-pedestrianised city centre, where a gang was working on a new shopping mall. With the problem of one-way streets and others closed off by bollards, my final access was interesting, to say the least, and I was glad of two mobile phone nos., and someone who could meet me where I'd parked and guide me to where the goods were wanted. At about 8.30, I headed further north, to the Team Valley Business Park, which is actually in Gateshead rather than Newcastle, but only a pedant (like me) would draw this distinction. With this second delivery made at 10.35, I began the reverse journey. I stopped at Boroughbridge, finding a convenient turning-that-goes-nowhere where I could park up and get some sleep, and then gently made for the same diner at Stibbington for breakfast at the same table where I'd eaten cottage pie only a few hours before.
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| ... in some cases on top of them! |
Once Thursday had properly started, I was content to be given a repeat of the job I'd done the previous morning, to the hospital in Gatwick, complemented this time by a collection in Camberley afterwards for a customer in Flitwick.
I slept well on Thursday night, and was rewarded on Friday morning with a job that was very much a 'blast from the past'. This was a delivery from a client in Royston to their customer in Harwich, a job that had been quite frequent in 2007/8, but that had not appeared, on my radar at least, since then. The destination is right by the waterfront, and the journey there far from unpleasant, so I was quite pleased to be given the job. My pleasure waned a little when I found myself in a traffic hold-up on the way home, but even this had its blessings. After only a short delay, I was able to follow a small convoy of other vehicles through an industrial estate on the outskirts of Colchester to a roundabout over the blocked A12. Here service station provided a lovely peaceful lunch location. By the time I'd eaten a prepared salad, the road was clear again.
It seemed likely, as I rang in about 3.15pm, that the week might be over. This was indeed a foolish thought for, almost on the dot of 4.0, came the third visit in as many days to that hospital in Gatwick. When I arrived at 7.30, I found the delivery office closed as I'd expected, so was guided to the theatre with my consignment. Here I felt obliged to apologise - on behalf of the M25 - for the late delivery, which amused the assistant who received the goods, and in turn put me in a good mood for the trip home.
The weekend has consisted largely in getting my home back to normal, following the retreat of the painter during my absence on Friday. A pleasant interruption to this exercise came yesterday afternoon with the annual Striking Competition, a bell-ringing tournament in which teams from the local churches attempt to achieve the most regular striking of a set length of ringing. Our team came fourth out of the five competing this year, which was only just below our expectations, there being one or two larger towers who have established prowess in these skills, and a history of regular success in the contest.
Sunday, 30 June 2013
A Big Little Week
While true, that heading may seem bizarre, but I'll delay the explanation until I've shared something of the holiday with my readers. Though some might say it's tame, or unadventurous, a week in Weston-Super-Mare was rewarding and relaxing. It was rewarding in that I got to drive a great virtually new car - a VW Jetta with less than 8,000 miles on the clock. It was rewarding in that my 'sister-cousin'* and I shared a holiday experience for the first time in nearly 50 years! And it was rewarding to make the acquaintance of some new and interesting people.
We met the two brothers who run the hotel where we stayed. One had been ill, and they had had to cancel some bookings to cut down the workload; he explained to me the additional pressure that this placed upon him by way of reduced income, and the constant reminder of it in the empty bedrooms around them.
We met a timid and reluctant school-leaver recruited at short notice to help out, and we met a guest whose holiday had been extended through ill fortune, in that his wife had suffered a stroke there during the previous week, and was being cared for in a local hospital. When the young girl couldn't make it one morning, he served breakfast to us all in the most genial manner - and we all agreed that, in more comfortable circumstances, he'd make an excellent guest-house host.
Believe it or not, this is the first chance I've had since unloading my camera last weekend to examine these pictures. It has been a really busy week, although I'm hard pressed to quote chapter and verse of precisely why. Workwise, I've recorded the lowest 'miles-per-job' statistic since November. In a week in which I've done 19 jobs - another remarkable number, unparalleled since before last April - the furthest I've been is Sleaford, with only two other jobs exceeding 100 miles. In keeping with its strange outcome, the week began with probably one of the most unusual jobs I've had.
I spent almost an hour waiting in relative silence while three feet away sat a woman frantically wishing a computer would work a bit faster. I had come on behalf of her former employer to collect the company laptop following her redundancy at the weekend, and she was anxious to transfer from it all her personal files. She'd underestimated how long this would take, however, and when my knock sounded on the door she was far from ready for my arrival. My day then took a busy turn, taking a box of mobile phones to a distribution centre on the A1 near Newark, and some documents to the council offices in Sleaford.
I won't bore readers with the other 16 jobs in detail, simply mentioning that Thursday was special in that it included visits to no less than four hospitals, and to describe the 'repeating genie' performance of the week. On Wednesday afternoon, I was sent on a routine journey from Sandy to Haverhill, one done many times before. This time, however, it was coupled with the delivery of a couple of cans of paint from a company near Royston to the fenlands of west Norfolk. I had been given precise delivery instructions. SatNav would guide me to the drive of a big house; I should ignore this, and head for the green building clearly visible behind it. Unfortunately, the post code on the delivery paperwork was in error: 0BU should have read 0BE. As a result I was directed not only to the wrong farm, but in the wrong village. Intuition, reprogramming SatNav to look for the village by name, and a phone call to the sender for more precise directions, all yielded nothing. By then it was gone 6.0pm, and I reckoned - correctly - that the man would be at home: the invoice address on the documentation. Within minutes I had turned into his driveway and, smiling and bemoaning his supplier's inefficiency, he welcomed delivery of the paint.
When I thought the week had staggered to a conclusion at teatime on Friday, I had a call to deliver some wine and soft drinks to a pub near Wisbech. As I found my turning from the A10, I thought the road looked familiar: it was the same road I'd taken two days before as my misguided SatNav led me to Nordelph. This time it stopped me at the right place, the Lamb and Flag at Welney. The delivery rounded off the week in excellent manner for, once the van was empty and parked up, I re-entered the pub for what has to be the tastiest meal I've enjoyed this year!
* - a genealogical contradiction but, we agree, justifiably descriptive.
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| SS Peter & Paul, Bleadon, where I rang on Tuesday evening |
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| Weston-Super-Mare esplanade |
We met a timid and reluctant school-leaver recruited at short notice to help out, and we met a guest whose holiday had been extended through ill fortune, in that his wife had suffered a stroke there during the previous week, and was being cared for in a local hospital. When the young girl couldn't make it one morning, he served breakfast to us all in the most genial manner - and we all agreed that, in more comfortable circumstances, he'd make an excellent guest-house host.
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| two colourful inmates of Brean Tropical Bird Sanctuary |
I spent almost an hour waiting in relative silence while three feet away sat a woman frantically wishing a computer would work a bit faster. I had come on behalf of her former employer to collect the company laptop following her redundancy at the weekend, and she was anxious to transfer from it all her personal files. She'd underestimated how long this would take, however, and when my knock sounded on the door she was far from ready for my arrival. My day then took a busy turn, taking a box of mobile phones to a distribution centre on the A1 near Newark, and some documents to the council offices in Sleaford.
I won't bore readers with the other 16 jobs in detail, simply mentioning that Thursday was special in that it included visits to no less than four hospitals, and to describe the 'repeating genie' performance of the week. On Wednesday afternoon, I was sent on a routine journey from Sandy to Haverhill, one done many times before. This time, however, it was coupled with the delivery of a couple of cans of paint from a company near Royston to the fenlands of west Norfolk. I had been given precise delivery instructions. SatNav would guide me to the drive of a big house; I should ignore this, and head for the green building clearly visible behind it. Unfortunately, the post code on the delivery paperwork was in error: 0BU should have read 0BE. As a result I was directed not only to the wrong farm, but in the wrong village. Intuition, reprogramming SatNav to look for the village by name, and a phone call to the sender for more precise directions, all yielded nothing. By then it was gone 6.0pm, and I reckoned - correctly - that the man would be at home: the invoice address on the documentation. Within minutes I had turned into his driveway and, smiling and bemoaning his supplier's inefficiency, he welcomed delivery of the paint.
When I thought the week had staggered to a conclusion at teatime on Friday, I had a call to deliver some wine and soft drinks to a pub near Wisbech. As I found my turning from the A10, I thought the road looked familiar: it was the same road I'd taken two days before as my misguided SatNav led me to Nordelph. This time it stopped me at the right place, the Lamb and Flag at Welney. The delivery rounded off the week in excellent manner for, once the van was empty and parked up, I re-entered the pub for what has to be the tastiest meal I've enjoyed this year!
* - a genealogical contradiction but, we agree, justifiably descriptive.
Saturday, 15 June 2013
Damp Squib Goes Mad
I've lost count of the times when I've complained about the week starting badly but ending well, and this has been yet another one. I do wonder what it is about Mondays and/or Tuesdays that make them slack; perhaps everyone got things done last week and now they've got to build up again ... was that a pig I saw up there? Back to earth ...
Monday offered me only one job, taking a box of machined parts from Hatfield to Papworth, which enabled me to join in a mirth-filled bell-ringing practice in the evening. I'm not sure why this was so, apart from two colleagues who are now on the brink of recovery from illness, but we were all in joyful mood, and the chatter just flowed. Tuesday gave me a 'there and back' double to south Essex, taking some paint to Horndon-on-the-Hill, and then making a collection from a doctor in Woodham Mortimer for a laboratory in Royston. With little more on the clock by Tuesday evening than the target for one day, I was hoping for an improvement as Wednesday dawned.
The pattern of 'in and out' continued for two days. Fairly early on Wednesday, I was sent to Rolls Royce in Derby with some parts from a local firm, and had got about half-way back when the phone went. "Where are you?" "Just coming down the M1 to junction 18 ..." "Can you get off?" After a quick check that it was safe, I was able to rumble over the hatched area at the top of the slip lane; I pulled onto the hard shoulder at the foot, continuing the conversation, "Yes, where did you want me to go?" I was given an address in Manchester, asked to make a collection there and then deliver it the following morning to Broxbourne, just beside the M25. It was then about 12.30, and as I quickly estimated travelling times, I cancelled any thought of attending a prayer meeting at the church that evening. Instead, I found myself tucking into liver and onions at the Rugby truck-stop.
I made my delivery on Thursday morning, enjoyed the almost mandatory egg-and-bacon roll and refuelled the van, and then called in to see what might be next. I didn't have long to wait before I was asked to collect from a factory almost opposite my lounge window - that's the advantage of working from home - to go to Benfleet. Almost home from there, came another 'turn you round' call and I was sent to a large manufacturing establishment in Hertford, for a repeat of a job that I'd done three weeks ago. It was a true repeat, right down to the need to wait half an hour for them to finish the job and prepare it for despatch! At 4.45 I set off for Wolverhampton, thinking that I would be in time for the second night in a row to dine at Rugby - roast chicken this time.
After two quite full days, I was content that things were fairly slack and local yesterday. In the morning I took some equipment to the West Middlesex Hospital in Isleworth, and also a parcel to one of the many freight forwarding companies that surround Heathrow, and in the afternoon came another hospital visit, this time to the Queen Elizabeth II in Welwyn Garden City. On the way back I was offered another, similar trip too, to finish the week as it had begun in Papworth, but I declined this one, having quite a lot to do on the home front.
And now, things seem to be nicely squared off, firstly to celebrate Fathers' Day with the men's group from the church, who have been practicing a musical presentation for tomorrow's service, and then to go into packing-and-preparing mode in readiness for the annual seaside holiday that begins on Monday. I wonder what I shall manage to leave behind this year?
Monday offered me only one job, taking a box of machined parts from Hatfield to Papworth, which enabled me to join in a mirth-filled bell-ringing practice in the evening. I'm not sure why this was so, apart from two colleagues who are now on the brink of recovery from illness, but we were all in joyful mood, and the chatter just flowed. Tuesday gave me a 'there and back' double to south Essex, taking some paint to Horndon-on-the-Hill, and then making a collection from a doctor in Woodham Mortimer for a laboratory in Royston. With little more on the clock by Tuesday evening than the target for one day, I was hoping for an improvement as Wednesday dawned.
The pattern of 'in and out' continued for two days. Fairly early on Wednesday, I was sent to Rolls Royce in Derby with some parts from a local firm, and had got about half-way back when the phone went. "Where are you?" "Just coming down the M1 to junction 18 ..." "Can you get off?" After a quick check that it was safe, I was able to rumble over the hatched area at the top of the slip lane; I pulled onto the hard shoulder at the foot, continuing the conversation, "Yes, where did you want me to go?" I was given an address in Manchester, asked to make a collection there and then deliver it the following morning to Broxbourne, just beside the M25. It was then about 12.30, and as I quickly estimated travelling times, I cancelled any thought of attending a prayer meeting at the church that evening. Instead, I found myself tucking into liver and onions at the Rugby truck-stop.
I made my delivery on Thursday morning, enjoyed the almost mandatory egg-and-bacon roll and refuelled the van, and then called in to see what might be next. I didn't have long to wait before I was asked to collect from a factory almost opposite my lounge window - that's the advantage of working from home - to go to Benfleet. Almost home from there, came another 'turn you round' call and I was sent to a large manufacturing establishment in Hertford, for a repeat of a job that I'd done three weeks ago. It was a true repeat, right down to the need to wait half an hour for them to finish the job and prepare it for despatch! At 4.45 I set off for Wolverhampton, thinking that I would be in time for the second night in a row to dine at Rugby - roast chicken this time.
After two quite full days, I was content that things were fairly slack and local yesterday. In the morning I took some equipment to the West Middlesex Hospital in Isleworth, and also a parcel to one of the many freight forwarding companies that surround Heathrow, and in the afternoon came another hospital visit, this time to the Queen Elizabeth II in Welwyn Garden City. On the way back I was offered another, similar trip too, to finish the week as it had begun in Papworth, but I declined this one, having quite a lot to do on the home front.
And now, things seem to be nicely squared off, firstly to celebrate Fathers' Day with the men's group from the church, who have been practicing a musical presentation for tomorrow's service, and then to go into packing-and-preparing mode in readiness for the annual seaside holiday that begins on Monday. I wonder what I shall manage to leave behind this year?
Sunday, 9 June 2013
One Darned Setback after Another!
I heard an interesting comment on the radio the other day about cinema trailers. It seems that the modern trend is to include all the most gripping scenes from the film in the trailer, and there is almost as much hype and excitement at the release of the trailer as there is for the film itself. How different from my young days, when the trailer gave just an idea of the contents, and you just had to watch the film itself to see how it all worked out.
That was rather the pattern for this week - the best job was the first one, and it went sort of downhill from there. This consisted of taking a mould tool to a factory in Sheffield, waiting for a while, and then bringing back some samples of what it had produced in operation. By the time I left, not much of Monday remained after the job was completed.
Tuesday's sole job was to a local hospital, and was but the first of a number this week that have included some significant unforeseen delay. Usually when I've served this combination of customer and hospital, I've delivered to the theatre which, though not well-marked, is easily accessible from the outside. I had a number of fairly small but weighty items, and I had delivered about two thirds of them - necessitating several trips from the van to the hallway, waiting to obtain access to the theatre area, taking them to the delivery point and returning to the van. My contact then had a phone call explaining that this particular consignment was required in another department; their supplier (our customer) had been told this: why was I taking them into the theatre? Answer, the message hadn't got as far as me (not an unknown situation by far!) The upshot was that I was shown the shortest way from where I was to the required department (and learned that to deliver there would have been easier than to the theatre in the first place.) I then made several more trips to redeliver the items I'd already taken into the theatre, and to deliver the remainder. I was glad in some ways to spend the rest of the day at my desk, 'recovering.'
Wednesday morning saw me given a straightforward job for Camberley. However, by the time I'd ground to a halt on the M25 it was fairly clear that there was a major hold-up several miles in front of me, and quite a while before I would reach the next junction to take a diversion. When I did so, I had to go several miles out of my way to get to my destination. The return journey was trouble-free, but the southbound side of the M25 was still clogged - even if there didn't seem to be an obvious reason.
In the evening I took a small parcel of point-of-sale materials to a shop being refurbished in the middle of Crewe. There should have been a phone no. for me to call on arrival in order to make the delivery, but this wasn't to hand when I picked up the goods. I set off, expecting a text message en route with the necessary details. I was well on my way when the call eventually arrived, and I had to remind the evening controller that, since I was driving, I would be unable to write the number down, so why hadn't he texted me as arranged? When I arrived I found the shop just by the entrance to the shopping mall, and even at 8.0pm, there were staff present, cleaning and polishing. I imagine the grand opening was imminent. I had no need of that phone no. after all ... which was as well because the site manager, I was told, had left some hours ago.
On Thursday, I was sent to what I described as 'the fish capital of England,' much to the amusement of the young chap who opened the door at the pick-up. The consignment was a large box of security equipment, to be taken to a Grimsby filling station in the process of refurbishment (it must be the season for this!) This proved to be no problem, and no sooner had I reported to the site office and returned to the van, than there was an engineer at my side to relieve me of my charge, and I could return to the unfolding story of England's defeat of the New Zealanders in the opening match of cricket's Champions' League.
Friday was a sequence of delays. It began with an 8.0 pick-up from Cambridge. I turned up a couple of minutes late, but the folks there were in some doubt as to what I was collecting. A phone call to an absent colleague settled this problem, and I was soon on my way to Burton-upon-Trent. All was well until I got partway along the A14, where I sat for something like half-an-hour. Word came from others in the queue that four lorries had been involved in a collision two junctions ahead of us. Eventually we moved, only to stop again a mile or so up the road. This time, however, I was within spitting distance of a side turning (one of those minor junctions that prevents that road becoming a motorway), and I was able to escape through the villages, and join the road again beyond the problem.
Returning midway through the afternoon, I was asked to divert to do a favour for a customer before reporting to the office - to deliver a barbecue from their premises to a house in Hitchin. The centre of Hitchin had been closed because a lorry had broken down. I then went to a hospital to collect some medicines for a housebound patient in Letchworth - the staff on the ward were all over the place, and no one seemed sure just what I was collecting. This was eventually resolved, and my reward was the fascination of using a secret code to obtain the door-key and let myself into the house to make the delivery, coupled with the lady's immense gratitude for my arrival.
Time was then getting on, and I was asked if I minded working on, since there were other jobs to be done. Nothing vital this time - just a box of wine for a lady in an office in Wellingborough. This was a strange job from the outset, because when I collected it, it was already past normal office closing time. Little surprise, therefore, when I arrived to find the cleaners in residence, and the security official at reception, unable to accept deliveries. I adopted a helpless, we're-in-this-together attitude and, after a few seconds silent stand-off, my sympathy with his situation of not being told that this was on its way won the day: he signed and I emerged, empty-handed and satisfied, to go and look for some tea.
Yesterday, with work finished for the week, was possibly the most exhausting day. I drove up to Bury St Edmunds, where I spent the day at Suffolk Record Office, sorting out missing reference numbers for my almost-finished project on the Sturgeon families of Stanton. By the time I'd driven home I wasn't really tired, but equally couldn't really focus my attention on anything serious. Never mind, I told myself, my annual holiday is just around the corner.
More news of that when it does arrive!
That was rather the pattern for this week - the best job was the first one, and it went sort of downhill from there. This consisted of taking a mould tool to a factory in Sheffield, waiting for a while, and then bringing back some samples of what it had produced in operation. By the time I left, not much of Monday remained after the job was completed.
Tuesday's sole job was to a local hospital, and was but the first of a number this week that have included some significant unforeseen delay. Usually when I've served this combination of customer and hospital, I've delivered to the theatre which, though not well-marked, is easily accessible from the outside. I had a number of fairly small but weighty items, and I had delivered about two thirds of them - necessitating several trips from the van to the hallway, waiting to obtain access to the theatre area, taking them to the delivery point and returning to the van. My contact then had a phone call explaining that this particular consignment was required in another department; their supplier (our customer) had been told this: why was I taking them into the theatre? Answer, the message hadn't got as far as me (not an unknown situation by far!) The upshot was that I was shown the shortest way from where I was to the required department (and learned that to deliver there would have been easier than to the theatre in the first place.) I then made several more trips to redeliver the items I'd already taken into the theatre, and to deliver the remainder. I was glad in some ways to spend the rest of the day at my desk, 'recovering.'
Wednesday morning saw me given a straightforward job for Camberley. However, by the time I'd ground to a halt on the M25 it was fairly clear that there was a major hold-up several miles in front of me, and quite a while before I would reach the next junction to take a diversion. When I did so, I had to go several miles out of my way to get to my destination. The return journey was trouble-free, but the southbound side of the M25 was still clogged - even if there didn't seem to be an obvious reason.
In the evening I took a small parcel of point-of-sale materials to a shop being refurbished in the middle of Crewe. There should have been a phone no. for me to call on arrival in order to make the delivery, but this wasn't to hand when I picked up the goods. I set off, expecting a text message en route with the necessary details. I was well on my way when the call eventually arrived, and I had to remind the evening controller that, since I was driving, I would be unable to write the number down, so why hadn't he texted me as arranged? When I arrived I found the shop just by the entrance to the shopping mall, and even at 8.0pm, there were staff present, cleaning and polishing. I imagine the grand opening was imminent. I had no need of that phone no. after all ... which was as well because the site manager, I was told, had left some hours ago.
On Thursday, I was sent to what I described as 'the fish capital of England,' much to the amusement of the young chap who opened the door at the pick-up. The consignment was a large box of security equipment, to be taken to a Grimsby filling station in the process of refurbishment (it must be the season for this!) This proved to be no problem, and no sooner had I reported to the site office and returned to the van, than there was an engineer at my side to relieve me of my charge, and I could return to the unfolding story of England's defeat of the New Zealanders in the opening match of cricket's Champions' League.
Friday was a sequence of delays. It began with an 8.0 pick-up from Cambridge. I turned up a couple of minutes late, but the folks there were in some doubt as to what I was collecting. A phone call to an absent colleague settled this problem, and I was soon on my way to Burton-upon-Trent. All was well until I got partway along the A14, where I sat for something like half-an-hour. Word came from others in the queue that four lorries had been involved in a collision two junctions ahead of us. Eventually we moved, only to stop again a mile or so up the road. This time, however, I was within spitting distance of a side turning (one of those minor junctions that prevents that road becoming a motorway), and I was able to escape through the villages, and join the road again beyond the problem.
Returning midway through the afternoon, I was asked to divert to do a favour for a customer before reporting to the office - to deliver a barbecue from their premises to a house in Hitchin. The centre of Hitchin had been closed because a lorry had broken down. I then went to a hospital to collect some medicines for a housebound patient in Letchworth - the staff on the ward were all over the place, and no one seemed sure just what I was collecting. This was eventually resolved, and my reward was the fascination of using a secret code to obtain the door-key and let myself into the house to make the delivery, coupled with the lady's immense gratitude for my arrival.
Time was then getting on, and I was asked if I minded working on, since there were other jobs to be done. Nothing vital this time - just a box of wine for a lady in an office in Wellingborough. This was a strange job from the outset, because when I collected it, it was already past normal office closing time. Little surprise, therefore, when I arrived to find the cleaners in residence, and the security official at reception, unable to accept deliveries. I adopted a helpless, we're-in-this-together attitude and, after a few seconds silent stand-off, my sympathy with his situation of not being told that this was on its way won the day: he signed and I emerged, empty-handed and satisfied, to go and look for some tea.
Yesterday, with work finished for the week, was possibly the most exhausting day. I drove up to Bury St Edmunds, where I spent the day at Suffolk Record Office, sorting out missing reference numbers for my almost-finished project on the Sturgeon families of Stanton. By the time I'd driven home I wasn't really tired, but equally couldn't really focus my attention on anything serious. Never mind, I told myself, my annual holiday is just around the corner.
More news of that when it does arrive!
Sunday, 26 May 2013
Taking it for Granted
As I approached them this morning, two of my fellow bellringers were in earnest conversation, in which one was relating to the other the major expedition he would mount in a couple of weeks' time to bring his son (plus luggage, equipment etc.) home from university. I arrived, and he added, by way of introduction, "but of course to Brian, here, this would be a mere doddle!" Before I had a chance to reply, our friend agreed. '"Yes, I debated the other week whether to go and see my friends in Weymouth and, as I decided against it, I realised that Brian would be there and back before the day is out." Like a number of others, they marvel at the distances I rack up in an average week - let alone the annual total. (For the statistically-minded, last year's total was 72,742 miles, but the average for the eight weeks so far this year is a mere 1,385.)
I reflected on this exchange this afternoon, and realised just how much we all take our own, perhaps peculiar, circumstances for granted ... until something comes along to inject a dose of reality into the situation. Before I started this job, a little more than eleven years ago, I think the furthest I had driven as a single journey was for a holiday in Exeter, which took almost all day. Four years later I planned a similar holiday in Durham, but was so daunted by the journey that both there and back I made an overnight stop part of the way. Now I wouldn't think twice about going to either destination - and much farther - and back in a single (albeit long) day.
It's very much a case of becoming used to it. I may have mentioned before a conversation with an erstwhile colleague who, at the time, was making the journey to Edinburgh (and sometimes beyond) twice or even three times in a week. "Don't you find it exhausting?" I asked. "No," was his reply, "The more you do it, the shorter it seems." And in the years since, I've found that to be true.
Three things this week have brought realism to my view of things. On Tuesday, after a leisurely morning at home, I was sent to Nottinghamshire, and found myself on roads that I'd last travelled a couple of summers ago on a bus. My holiday had been spent enjoyably 'house-sitting and cat-feeding' for my cousin and her husband while they were on their holiday, and one day I'd taken a trip on a normal service bus to visit one of the many medium-sized towns in the area. I recall wondering where on earth the bus was taking me, as we made our way from one village to another, zig-zagging across the former coalfield, down narrow streets between small shops and coal-blackened cottages. A few hours later, the return journey seemed to take far less time, because I was retracing my steps. I won't say the scenery was familiar, but at least it was pre-viewed.
Wednesday was a most productive day. I set off quite early to collect for Portsmouth, and before leaving 'home territory', I was given another job for Byfleet to deliver on the way. Returning from these about 3.30, I was asked if I'd like another job that day. After expressing my interest, I was told to get a 'cuppa' because it wouldn't be ready until 5.0, but was going to Wolverhampton. I initially thought that this would fit in nicely with a meal at the Rugby truck-stop on the way back. When I got to our customer, I learned that the goods wouldn't be ready for collection for another half-hour; by the time I'd delivered them in Wolverhampton - although there had been no delays on the way - it was clear that there was no chance of getting to Rugby before the truck-stop would have stopped serving meals, so instead I spent a restful half hour on the car park of a KFC just off junction 10 of the M6, surveying the skyline of Walsall as it fell under the cloak of darkness.
On Friday, in the the cold and rain, I paid the second visit in two weeks to the Royal Sussex Hospital in Brighton. It's a nice straightforward route, and I like it because - like the run into Manchester from Altringham - there's a long stretch of (enforced!) 30 mph limit, which makes for a nice leisurely approach to the target. With my collection done, I made my way back towards the A23, stopping carefully at all the pedestrian crossings and red traffic lights. In such a queue of traffic, the only thing to do is watch the people on the pavement, and this particular trip offered much of interest.
Just along from the Pavilion, for example, I saw a middle-aged man at the door of an empty shop. At first I thought he was sheltering from the rain, and simply peering through the door as he waited. Then I realised that he was apparently scraping or chipping with his fingernails at the top of the door. As I looked, he stood back away from the door, considered, and then took something from his trouser pocket to re-apply himself to his task. Was it a key? Was he in fact a prospective purchaser? No, this was at the middle of the top of the door; one would expect the lock to be at the edge furthest from the hinge. Completely oblivious of any other passers-by, but with great determination, he continued his task ... a task that has to remain unexplained, because the traffic moved off.
It must have been at the next set of lights that I spotted the young woman with the dog. As with many these days, she was looking intently at her outstretched hand as she walked along. There seemed little doubt that she was texting someone, as her thumb moved rapidly across the phone she held in her hand. I'm always amazed how people can do this while walking: I can manage it with one hand ... just; but not while contending with the motion of travel. Let's not forget either that this woman's other hand was holding on to the dog's lead, which introduces another dimension of movement to the situation. And to crown the whole achievement - as if the rain weren't sufficient - the dog was successfully pulling her along at what must have been almost twenty miles an hour! If you know such a woman - in Brighton or elsewhere - please give her my warmest congratulations!
We live in a strange world, one which we should never take for granted, and I'm sure I'll be seeing more of it next week.
I reflected on this exchange this afternoon, and realised just how much we all take our own, perhaps peculiar, circumstances for granted ... until something comes along to inject a dose of reality into the situation. Before I started this job, a little more than eleven years ago, I think the furthest I had driven as a single journey was for a holiday in Exeter, which took almost all day. Four years later I planned a similar holiday in Durham, but was so daunted by the journey that both there and back I made an overnight stop part of the way. Now I wouldn't think twice about going to either destination - and much farther - and back in a single (albeit long) day.
It's very much a case of becoming used to it. I may have mentioned before a conversation with an erstwhile colleague who, at the time, was making the journey to Edinburgh (and sometimes beyond) twice or even three times in a week. "Don't you find it exhausting?" I asked. "No," was his reply, "The more you do it, the shorter it seems." And in the years since, I've found that to be true.
Three things this week have brought realism to my view of things. On Tuesday, after a leisurely morning at home, I was sent to Nottinghamshire, and found myself on roads that I'd last travelled a couple of summers ago on a bus. My holiday had been spent enjoyably 'house-sitting and cat-feeding' for my cousin and her husband while they were on their holiday, and one day I'd taken a trip on a normal service bus to visit one of the many medium-sized towns in the area. I recall wondering where on earth the bus was taking me, as we made our way from one village to another, zig-zagging across the former coalfield, down narrow streets between small shops and coal-blackened cottages. A few hours later, the return journey seemed to take far less time, because I was retracing my steps. I won't say the scenery was familiar, but at least it was pre-viewed.
Wednesday was a most productive day. I set off quite early to collect for Portsmouth, and before leaving 'home territory', I was given another job for Byfleet to deliver on the way. Returning from these about 3.30, I was asked if I'd like another job that day. After expressing my interest, I was told to get a 'cuppa' because it wouldn't be ready until 5.0, but was going to Wolverhampton. I initially thought that this would fit in nicely with a meal at the Rugby truck-stop on the way back. When I got to our customer, I learned that the goods wouldn't be ready for collection for another half-hour; by the time I'd delivered them in Wolverhampton - although there had been no delays on the way - it was clear that there was no chance of getting to Rugby before the truck-stop would have stopped serving meals, so instead I spent a restful half hour on the car park of a KFC just off junction 10 of the M6, surveying the skyline of Walsall as it fell under the cloak of darkness.
On Friday, in the the cold and rain, I paid the second visit in two weeks to the Royal Sussex Hospital in Brighton. It's a nice straightforward route, and I like it because - like the run into Manchester from Altringham - there's a long stretch of (enforced!) 30 mph limit, which makes for a nice leisurely approach to the target. With my collection done, I made my way back towards the A23, stopping carefully at all the pedestrian crossings and red traffic lights. In such a queue of traffic, the only thing to do is watch the people on the pavement, and this particular trip offered much of interest.
Just along from the Pavilion, for example, I saw a middle-aged man at the door of an empty shop. At first I thought he was sheltering from the rain, and simply peering through the door as he waited. Then I realised that he was apparently scraping or chipping with his fingernails at the top of the door. As I looked, he stood back away from the door, considered, and then took something from his trouser pocket to re-apply himself to his task. Was it a key? Was he in fact a prospective purchaser? No, this was at the middle of the top of the door; one would expect the lock to be at the edge furthest from the hinge. Completely oblivious of any other passers-by, but with great determination, he continued his task ... a task that has to remain unexplained, because the traffic moved off.
It must have been at the next set of lights that I spotted the young woman with the dog. As with many these days, she was looking intently at her outstretched hand as she walked along. There seemed little doubt that she was texting someone, as her thumb moved rapidly across the phone she held in her hand. I'm always amazed how people can do this while walking: I can manage it with one hand ... just; but not while contending with the motion of travel. Let's not forget either that this woman's other hand was holding on to the dog's lead, which introduces another dimension of movement to the situation. And to crown the whole achievement - as if the rain weren't sufficient - the dog was successfully pulling her along at what must have been almost twenty miles an hour! If you know such a woman - in Brighton or elsewhere - please give her my warmest congratulations!
We live in a strange world, one which we should never take for granted, and I'm sure I'll be seeing more of it next week.
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Excitement Abounds
Yesterday morning, I was feeling pretty exhausted. But looking back now from Sunday afternoon, I can see that it's been quite an exciting and rewarding week - in more ways than one. Let me sketch in some detail to that bald, if positive, outline.
The week began with me missing the church breakfast, although up at about the same time as usual in order to achieve an early pick-up in Letchworth for delivery in Harlow. Back home again, I was able to indulge in a little family history before being sent to Romsey, to a destination where I'd been before; this time, however, the nearby roadworks had been finished, and I wasn't called upon to make an annoying diversion. A satisfying bell-ringing practice ended the day.
Tuesday saw the first of three examples in the week of 'stretching-the-destination' (std). I was up early again, to make a delivery to 'Chelmsford' ... only it wasn't actually Chelmsford, but to a little village - again a place I'd visited before - called Stow Maries, some miles beyond. A job to Basingstoke followed, and again I was comfortably home for the evening. It was then that excitement kicked in.
In Wednesday morning's beautiful sunshine, I was given two jobs, delivering in Hemel Hempstead and London Colney, before running empty down to Brighton. Here I visited the Royal Sussex Hospital, where building works have for some while been adding to the cramped parking conditions. Luckily, I found a security person ticketing cars parked in the ambulances-only yard outside A&E; she quickly indicated where I could freely park for my two missions. The first of these was to transfer some empty crates to an address in nearby Shoreham. This involved a leisurely (30-mph-limited) 'stroll' along the seafront - absolute delight - and then back again to the hospital. I then loaded up some equipment that was brought back to our depot for a customer.
Thursday morning offered a delivery to Bishop's Stortford, and then I was off to Manchester with some boxes that the consignor admitted could have gone overnight, but 'orders are orders!' I came home by way of the Snake Pass, only a few hundred yards from Derwent Reservoir, where earlier in the day a Lancaster bomber had performed a flypast to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the Dambuster Raid, whose courageous aircrews had used the reservoir to practice their dangerous manoeuvre.
After a late night, I had scarcely started my breakfast when the controller called to announce that it looked like a day of local jobs for small vans, and to give me my first one. I was just home from this, and along came the second - one that I'd done quite a few times recently, from Houghton Regis, near Luton, over to Cambridge. This time, however, not only did it involve visiting two separate factories in Cambridge, but also taking a parcel to the firm's accountants in Stevenage. On the way I was invited to collect a large box from a firm in 'Cambridge' - actually Waterbeach (std). This was to go to central London, and after making my Stevenage delivery, I was glad to hand it over to another driver for this purpose. By now it was mid-afternoon, and it was suggested that I might like to do a job to Coventry. Inevitably plans change and, after collecting this in Hitchin, I was diverted some fifteen miles in the opposite direction to collect something else for 'Stafford', which later turned out to be a village called Hixon (std again!), and for the third night running it was almost midnight before I got home.
Yesterday's activity was almost entirely focussed on an indoor market being held at my local church. It was in aid of the town's Foodbank, and I had contracted to run a bookstall. I had seen this as an opportunity to reduce the size of my library, and to pass on some of the books I've already read. In the event, however, I sold only eight books, to a total of just two customers! I didn't really see this as a failure, though, because in the upheaval to fill four boxes to take there, I had managed something of a reshuffle, and the unsold volumes went back into different and less accessible places!
There was also excitement this week on the family history front. Some years ago, to meet a particular need, I had devised a numbering system for all the people on my database of relatives, be they close or distant. This was based on a well-known system to identify direct ancestors, and I had simply expanded it for my own purposes. A few weeks ago I joined a newly founded on-line family history forum and last weekend I decided to outline my system for comment and/or use by other people there. Two or three other members have picked this up and made their own (greatly improving) amendments to it, surpassing my original needs, and automating its application to others' records, in ways that are well beyond my programming capabilities. This in turn has rewarded me with quite a degree of satisfaction.
The great excitement now is ... after this diversion, will I get my big family history project finished before my annual holiday in a few weeks' time? Only time will tell, but the odds are not looking good!
The week began with me missing the church breakfast, although up at about the same time as usual in order to achieve an early pick-up in Letchworth for delivery in Harlow. Back home again, I was able to indulge in a little family history before being sent to Romsey, to a destination where I'd been before; this time, however, the nearby roadworks had been finished, and I wasn't called upon to make an annoying diversion. A satisfying bell-ringing practice ended the day.
Tuesday saw the first of three examples in the week of 'stretching-the-destination' (std). I was up early again, to make a delivery to 'Chelmsford' ... only it wasn't actually Chelmsford, but to a little village - again a place I'd visited before - called Stow Maries, some miles beyond. A job to Basingstoke followed, and again I was comfortably home for the evening. It was then that excitement kicked in.
In Wednesday morning's beautiful sunshine, I was given two jobs, delivering in Hemel Hempstead and London Colney, before running empty down to Brighton. Here I visited the Royal Sussex Hospital, where building works have for some while been adding to the cramped parking conditions. Luckily, I found a security person ticketing cars parked in the ambulances-only yard outside A&E; she quickly indicated where I could freely park for my two missions. The first of these was to transfer some empty crates to an address in nearby Shoreham. This involved a leisurely (30-mph-limited) 'stroll' along the seafront - absolute delight - and then back again to the hospital. I then loaded up some equipment that was brought back to our depot for a customer.
Thursday morning offered a delivery to Bishop's Stortford, and then I was off to Manchester with some boxes that the consignor admitted could have gone overnight, but 'orders are orders!' I came home by way of the Snake Pass, only a few hundred yards from Derwent Reservoir, where earlier in the day a Lancaster bomber had performed a flypast to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the Dambuster Raid, whose courageous aircrews had used the reservoir to practice their dangerous manoeuvre.
After a late night, I had scarcely started my breakfast when the controller called to announce that it looked like a day of local jobs for small vans, and to give me my first one. I was just home from this, and along came the second - one that I'd done quite a few times recently, from Houghton Regis, near Luton, over to Cambridge. This time, however, not only did it involve visiting two separate factories in Cambridge, but also taking a parcel to the firm's accountants in Stevenage. On the way I was invited to collect a large box from a firm in 'Cambridge' - actually Waterbeach (std). This was to go to central London, and after making my Stevenage delivery, I was glad to hand it over to another driver for this purpose. By now it was mid-afternoon, and it was suggested that I might like to do a job to Coventry. Inevitably plans change and, after collecting this in Hitchin, I was diverted some fifteen miles in the opposite direction to collect something else for 'Stafford', which later turned out to be a village called Hixon (std again!), and for the third night running it was almost midnight before I got home.
Yesterday's activity was almost entirely focussed on an indoor market being held at my local church. It was in aid of the town's Foodbank, and I had contracted to run a bookstall. I had seen this as an opportunity to reduce the size of my library, and to pass on some of the books I've already read. In the event, however, I sold only eight books, to a total of just two customers! I didn't really see this as a failure, though, because in the upheaval to fill four boxes to take there, I had managed something of a reshuffle, and the unsold volumes went back into different and less accessible places!
There was also excitement this week on the family history front. Some years ago, to meet a particular need, I had devised a numbering system for all the people on my database of relatives, be they close or distant. This was based on a well-known system to identify direct ancestors, and I had simply expanded it for my own purposes. A few weeks ago I joined a newly founded on-line family history forum and last weekend I decided to outline my system for comment and/or use by other people there. Two or three other members have picked this up and made their own (greatly improving) amendments to it, surpassing my original needs, and automating its application to others' records, in ways that are well beyond my programming capabilities. This in turn has rewarded me with quite a degree of satisfaction.
The great excitement now is ... after this diversion, will I get my big family history project finished before my annual holiday in a few weeks' time? Only time will tell, but the odds are not looking good!
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