It was a special day today for someone in the Graham household. Lots of cards through the letterbox and flowers delivered to the door, all for Mo’s birthday. But, there was one important one missing. The day before, the postie had dropped a note on the front door mat to say that there was a special delivery which he or she had not been able to deliver because there was no-one in to sign for it. Evidently Number One son had wanted to be sure his card would not be late so he paid extra for ‘garenteed delivery’. Sadly he didn’t figure that both parents might be out and about when the letter arrived.
Now you have to know that in Kilsby when a letter can’t be delivered it is taken back to the sorting office in Rugby. Five miles away. So on the appointed day Dad has to set off early to retrieve the ‘gaurenteed delivery’ letter.
Carefully negotiating the 24 speed humps outside the local secondary school and being well aware of the six speed cameras waiting to trap any fast moves, Dad edges toward his goal — the sorting office. But first there is the bus in front, stopping at every stop along the route, picking up and putting down armies of school children. Only then do we approach the railway station. Nine o’clock is a busy time with all the commuters trying to park their car and cross the road to catch their train. They are not at all concerned about my urgent errand.
The final hurdle is the one way traffic-controlled tunnel under the railway, specially designed to bring to a standstill rushing motorists. A mere half an hour later and I am through the tunnel and at the gates of the very small car park at the sorting office. The very small car park has twenty spaces for very small cars. The sorting office evidently has eighteen staff who come to work by car and take up eighteen spaces. This leaves just two spaces for customers at the far end of the car park. The dead-end ! Still I manage to get the last space and luckily I am able to climb out though the sun roof.
At last I am in the sorting office to reclaim my undelivered, guaranteed ‘special delivery’ letter. Now all I have to do is prove who I am with two forms of I D and explain why I wasn’t in yesterday when they tried to deliver the letter. “Didn’t you know it was special delivery ?” I would have thought they would give it to me just for coming all this way and for managing to park in the car park.
At last letter in hand I return to the car park, climb back though my sun roof and am set to go. Unfortunately I only learned how to do a three-point turn when I passed my driving test fifty years ago. They didn’t prepare you for sorting office car parks. Fifteen points and constant bleeper warnings later I extract my car from the car park. Now all I have to do is go back through the tunnel passed the bus stops and over the speed bumps before the children come out of school.
Finally I return home with a guaranteed ‘special delivery’ birthday card from Number One Son.
And one happy Mum. 🙂
