I’ve learned that I love my postman and that I appreciate him and the job he does even more than I ever realised I did.
Postman Pat and Jess the cat, picture courtesy of the BBC
When we first moved into this property we originally inherited a postman who … erm … how can I say this... … who really ‘wasn’t up to scratch’.
The chap spent the whole of his post round talking to his friends or partner on his mobile phone. You would have thought that phone was super-glued to his face and would have to be surgically removed. I had to speak to him one day (he’d delivered a letter that wasn’t only not for our address but not even to anyone in our area), he still didn’t remove his phone from his ear. He just took the letter, shoved it into his post-bag, carried on gossiping in his phone and didn’t acknowledge me in any way at all. You’d have thought I didn’t exist! I did question if I was perhaps invisible – but Mr. Cobs assured me I was clearly visible, and that the postman was ignorant and obviously without manners. (telling me!)
Then, after a time, the post office did the thing they do now and again, and swapped all the post men/women around and gave them all new routes. So we got a new Postman, and he has been amazing. He’s a thoroughly lovely chap. Looks out for people and if he hasn’t seen someone for a few days then he’ll check up with neighbours to make sure that Mrs. So and So is ok, or that someone has seen elderly Mr. Xyz. AND … he puts regular letters in the little post box, but bigger things go in the hidden parcel box to the side of the porch. Sometimes, if he has time and he knows we’re in, he’ll knock the door and actually bring them to us, have a moments chat etc.
our post box on the front of our cottage, and below it is the metal newspaper/magazine ‘roll’ where they can be stashed until we collect them
However … we’ve had another delivery man this past couple of weeks and he’s been shoving all sorts of things in our little post box – which is designed for letters – not parcels, packages or magazines. There’s a metal ‘thing’ below the post box for magazines and news papers. But no, he didn’t use that. There’s even a parcel box, water-tight with a well-fitting lid, positioned out of the rain and hidden from general view … even with a blackboard by the front door telling a post man/woman where it is … but did he use it? No. He shoved all manner of things into the post box which really didn’t fit. Mr. Cobs had the divil of a job getting one thing out because he’d pushed it so far in that it was jammed in there and himself was there huffing and puffing trying to get this item out without damaging whatever was inside it!
THEN … at the start of this week … OUR POSTMAN WAS BACK ON DUTY! YAYAYAYAY!!! [doing the happy dance]. Mr. Cobs was in the front garden when Mr. Postman turned up with letters. Mr. Cobs said he’d never been so glad to see someone as he was at that moment, even telling the Postman that. The postman said that he’d been on holiday. Mr. Cobs told him how we’d missed him, what a nightmare the temporary chap had been, and that he wasn’t allowed on any more holidays. lol.
I knew I loved our postman … but now I love and appreciate him even more than I did before. I just hope the post office doesn’t do the change around thing, because we’d all miss him dreadfully in the area where I live.
I learned this week that when you suddenly find yourself singing and humming a song which you used to know all the words of but have forgotten most of them, and actually haven’t heard that song for ages and ages, – I’ve learned that the one thing you really shouldn’t do is go in search of the song on You Tube so that you can listen to the song all over again.
You see … if you do, you won’t be able to STOP SINGING THE *#&%!+* SONG after that and, when you’re lying there, in the dark, it will thoroughly get on your very last nerve at 3am in the morning when you can’t stop the darn thing playing over, and over, and over, ad nauseam inside your head!
Please … enjoy the song before you go any further in your reading…
I used to sing this song for and to the amusement of our two girls when they were little. They thought it was funny and would join in, singing in their little girl voices which quickly turned into giggling and falling about laughing.
But many, many years later – with one daughter now in her thirties and the other in her late twenties – that song, although I still love it to the moon and back, should not be an ear worm and keeping you awake at 3am on any day! (I still love the song, and NO ONE, in my opinion, could ever adequately ever fill the role which Carol Burnett played in the film Annie, for she was THE best actress for that role).
This week I’ve learned that … if I hurry up just a little, I can take a shower and wash my hair in ten minutes. Now this upset me because I had guessed that I was doing it in about 6 minutes, but no. TEN MINUTES! Cor, what a waste. I’ve got to improve on that time.
No, I’m not planning to enter the Shower Olympics in four years time, but I swear that I used to be in and out of the shower in a lot less time than ten minutes, and this really has kind of ‘upset’ me. Is this more disturbing evidence that I’m growing old and cannot move fast even in the shower? Hells Bells! So right now … I’m in Training. I have to improve my time to shower and wash hair. I’ll keep you posted.
This week I’ve learned that I will NEVER, EVER, EVER get to that magical, mythical moment of having … AN EMPTY IN-BOX on my email account. I seem to get almost there … just a few more emails to open …. and the phone rings… by the time I’ve got off the phone 400 new emails have arrived and I’ve got to start all over again.
I don’t visit my email box every day. I know that statement might make some of you gasp, but … well …. I have better things to do than open that email account up and spend an hour trying to sort through emails. I visit my emails say, maybe 2 or 3 times a week. The rest of the time I’m off doing something far more enjoyable which has nothing to do with computers or tinternet. I don’t ‘do’ Fakebook. I’ve actually got a Twitter account but I don’t ‘get it’. What can you say in 140 characters which would be worth reading?
I’m going to the shop. I’m back from the Shop. I bought a cake. I ate my cake… here, have a picture of an empty plate. I’m out with friends, having a great time. (Can’t be that great if you’re sending messages to Twitter). No… I really don’t get the pull of Twitter. I’m just obviously not a Twit.
And finally … I’ve learned this week, at around 3.30am one morning, when I was trying to go to sleep with an ear worm going round and round my brain, that if someone with money and know-how doesn’t invent some sort of gadget or machine which will deliver an electric shock to a snoring husband, the minute they start to snore too loud, VERY SOON … I’ll bally well do it, and I have just the person to test it on as well.
I love him like no one else, to the moon and back a gazillion times plus tax, but I swear that I won’t tickle him next time to stop him
snoring roaring and rumbling like a lion, I’ll buy a new bed just for me and put it in the spare room …. along with a lock on the door so that he can’t come and find me. I’ll just stick a note on the outside of the door saying … Do Not Disturb. 🙂
I had a trick which worked until four nights ago, when it stopped working.
You can try it if you have a snorer… Imagine that you’re tut tut tut tutting a cat or a dog by kind of pulling your tongue off the roof of your mouth, quickly, over and over. You can do it softly, or you can do it loudly. It’s supposed to work with around three tuts. But I always found it took four or five loudish tuts. It’s a sound which brings a sleeping snorer just up to the surface (but doesn’t actually wake them up) and stops them snoring. And it worked brilliantly, but sadly it doesn’t work any longer.
So … someone better invent the electric shock thing soon. I swear to dog that they’ll make mega bucks from it.
Well, I’ve learned a lot this week. phew!
So … what about you? Have you learned anything that you’d like to share with us all? Oh … and how long does it take you to shower and wash your hair? Don’t guess the time, because I did that and was totally wrong. Time yourself… then come back and tell me. We’ll compare notes.
Sending you loving wishes for a wonderful Friday, and hoping that your weekend is filled with peace and love.
Be nice to each other.