Lost Letters
Stephen got a birthday card yesterday. Lovely. And it was posted on March 27th, just in time for his birthday on March 28th. It arrived on April 8th.
Okay, just an isolated incident, one swallow doesn't make a summer, etc. But it seems to be happening lots and lots and lots.
My second cousin Robert, who died from cancer a year ago, was a postman and I've always rather fought the postmen's corner. But just recently there seems to have been a real increase in post going to the wrong place.
I looked after my friend's post recently whilst he was away for several months, checking the post two or three times a week. Not one week went by without him receiving post that should have gone to someone else. Some was for next door, some for the same house number but a different street - - and some was for a different name, different number and different street.
At the house where I live it's the same. We're forever getting post for other people. I put it back in the post box marked "Delivered to the Wrong Address" but it makes me wonder if a lot of my post - - - such as the tax refund I'm expecting, and have been told I'm going to get! - is going somewhere else.
A couple of days ago a parcel arrived marked "Special Delivery" - it was a package from Amazon. One of our actors signed for it without looking too closely.
Well, the house number was correct but it was the wrong name and the wrong street. Having realised this, the actor took it to the post office just along the road.
He handed it to the man behind the counter, who looked at it in surprise. "Oh!" said Post Office Man, "It's for me!"
What are the chances of that happening, eh?
When I was a child the post came first thing in the morning, so you could check if you had any Valentines cards before going off to school. Then, later, they introduced a second post, and that was fine too.
Now they seem to have replaced both of these with something I'd tend to call a third post, because it arrives later than either the first post or the second post - - sometimes it's not till about two o'clock in the afternoon.
And, in amongst all the letters addressed to Mrs Boggins of 39 Acacia Avenue, there's occasionally one for me.
Okay, just an isolated incident, one swallow doesn't make a summer, etc. But it seems to be happening lots and lots and lots.
My second cousin Robert, who died from cancer a year ago, was a postman and I've always rather fought the postmen's corner. But just recently there seems to have been a real increase in post going to the wrong place.
I looked after my friend's post recently whilst he was away for several months, checking the post two or three times a week. Not one week went by without him receiving post that should have gone to someone else. Some was for next door, some for the same house number but a different street - - and some was for a different name, different number and different street.
At the house where I live it's the same. We're forever getting post for other people. I put it back in the post box marked "Delivered to the Wrong Address" but it makes me wonder if a lot of my post - - - such as the tax refund I'm expecting, and have been told I'm going to get! - is going somewhere else.
A couple of days ago a parcel arrived marked "Special Delivery" - it was a package from Amazon. One of our actors signed for it without looking too closely.
Well, the house number was correct but it was the wrong name and the wrong street. Having realised this, the actor took it to the post office just along the road.
He handed it to the man behind the counter, who looked at it in surprise. "Oh!" said Post Office Man, "It's for me!"
What are the chances of that happening, eh?
When I was a child the post came first thing in the morning, so you could check if you had any Valentines cards before going off to school. Then, later, they introduced a second post, and that was fine too.
Now they seem to have replaced both of these with something I'd tend to call a third post, because it arrives later than either the first post or the second post - - sometimes it's not till about two o'clock in the afternoon.
And, in amongst all the letters addressed to Mrs Boggins of 39 Acacia Avenue, there's occasionally one for me.
posted by Daphne at 4:29 pm
2 Comments:
Sadly my daughter, in business will not use the Post Office for expensive parcels. Brought about by years of indifference.
Sign of the times, sadly.
"Some was for next door, some for the same house number but a different street - - and some was for a different name, different number and different street."
It's the same over here in Paris. Presents sent by friends and family for my children for Christmas and birthdays have gone missing. Forever. I tracked down an out-of-print book written by my father: it never arrived. The nice woman at the bookshop refunded me but still.
What vital items of mail have never reached me? A large sum of money from a long-lost relative? Kate Winslet declaring her love for me? I'll never know.
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