Our postal arrangements aren’t exactly going postal – they have become rather strange though.
Our old postman was a grand lad. He’d motor up around half past one: Penny would lash out to greet him and he’d give her a little treat. The odd time there would be a parcel so he’d bang on the door and deliver my parcel [and treat – the dog lost out with parcels] and we’d have a cheery chat.
For the last couple of months or so, everything has changed. The first sign was when Penny started woofing quietly on the foot of my bed at eight in the morning. She obviously didn’t want to wake me as the woof was always quiet, yet she had to wake me as any good guard dog would. Sure enough – on the “woof” mornings there would be a letter or two lying in the porch. A postal delivery at eight in the morning? It had to be a new postman.
Now if Old Postman had a parcel to deliver and I wasn’t in, he’d leave it in the window box beside the front door. This was great as I could see it from inside and collect it.
New postman has an entirely different attitude to parcels. I don’t think he likes them.
The first time I discovered this change in routine was one day when I went around the side of the house to the front, and there was a parcel leaning against the wall under the bedroom window. Fair enough. Maybe it had fallen out of the window box.
A few days later I again had necessity to visit the front garden and there was another parcel but this one was just propped against the gate on the inside. I assumed he must have been in a hurry though it was quite clever of him to lean it against the inside of the gate and then open the gate to get out without knocking the parcel over. I don’t know how long it had been there.
A few days ago I had to go out in the afternoon. I got my act together, the dog harnessed and all that stuff and went out to the car. There was a parcel sitting on the bonnet [okay – “hood” you ignorant Mercans]. Again, I had no idea how long it had been there.
Yesterday I had to collect a load of stuff from the village so I went to start the car. The battery [as usual] was flat so I went to the front to jump start it with my defibrillator. It’s lucky I did because there was another parcel, but this one was tucked underneath the engine and was barely visible.
It has reached the stage where I have to go on a treasure hunt around the front garden every day, just in case. Herself keeps ordering shit on the Interwebs so I never know when a parcel is due. Usually she forgets that she has ordered stuff to so each new parcel is a surprise for both of us.
So far he has kept things to ground level [with the exception of the one on the bonnet of the car].
God help me if he starts flinging them up into the trees.