Letter late than never

Without realising it most of us live our lives around of a set of routines. You know the type of thing – down the pub on Friday night, supermarket on Saturday, wash the car on Sunday and so on. I am frankly no different although when it comes to washing the car it’s twice a year whether the car needs it or not.

It is strange how a break in this routine can brighten the day. This month two seismic change events hit my village. The landlord – well lease holder – of my preferred village pub finally gave up the battle against government persecution of the drinking man and brewery avarice and called it quits. A closed pub is bad enough news but shock and horror we also have a new postman.

The landlord may have gone to new pastures but fortunately we have another pub in the village. Due to a sense of loyalty to the embattled ex landlord I have not set foot in the “other end” for a couple of years. I am quite looking forward to a change of scene for my “Friday night in the Pub” routine. A new postman is a different kettle of fish.

Post and Mail BoxesI first came upon the young chap pushing his small hatchback down Pinfold Lane. I was just about to offer to help when a villager leant over his wall and said “Don’t bother asking, he says he’s pushing it to save petrol”. Definitely a chuckle moment although not an encouraging introduction when you consider the houses in the village don’t have numbers just names. When you have a Pinfold Cottage, Pinfold House and Pinfold Gardens on the same street and four families with the same surname you need a Postie who knows his eggs from his omelettes.

Many houses also have long gated drives particularly the farms and like me don’t have a door letterbox so over time we have resorted to leaving a variety of receptacles for the Post on the road side, tea chests, biscuit tins and old wooden boxes amongst others.  At an impromptu alfresco parish meeting as we observed the postman’s painful progress into the distance it was decided that it may be prudent to encourage the populace to write the householder name or at least the words “Deliver Post Here” on the makeshift post boxes.  I obviously suggested we also point out that purpose made post boxes don’t cost the earth and are a good deal more stylish, secure and weather proof than a biscuit tin.

This morning I noticed that the Postman has devised a cunning plan to avoid pushing his car. He was loading a bicycle out of the hatchback which he then used to deliver post to a dozen or so houses. He then put the bike back in the car drove down the road a hundred yards and then repeated the process. No doubt he will develop a routine that suits him given time.