UNCOLLECTABLE MAIL

Last week, once again, and no doubt because I'm a profligate online shopper, I received a card through the door informing me that a parcel needed collecting from our "local" Post Office, because it was too big to go through my letter box.

So far, so normal.

I knew exactly what it was; It was the inkjet cartridges I'd ordered for my printer in anticipation of the ones currently inside it running dry at precisely the moment that I needed to be printing off the various covering letters that I'd need to write whenever that glorious day came when some funds would be available to pay off some of the debts accrued by Mum's Estate.

Now, a few years ago, the Post Office which was a short stroll from my house was closed as part of the controversial cutbacks, and so the place I have to go to is now two-and-a-half miles away and, in the disinterest of the environment, involves a five mile round trip in the car if I am to manage it in the short amount of time available to me after work.

So, after a quick eye-roll and a short chunner about it being "Bloody typical!" that it should happen upon an evening where I had "other plans" for that time (Mostly, to be fair, involving the much delayed washing up…), I drove over there, but upon arriving there at around 5.15pm (ish), I found that the office was closed and there was a sign attached to the door saying that this was due to illness, but there was little indication of when it might reopen.

Still, that word "illness" guilted me enough to be not too irritated, and I went on my less-than-merry way, promising to myself to return within the eighteen day time period mentioned on the card. After all, happily, my printer still had some ink left in its cartridges, and my parcel wasn't exactly perishable.

I did wonder for a moment, because of the proximity of the date to St Valentine's Day, how many flowers and foodstuffs might be deteriorating in a Post Office van somewhere, but I decided that this probably wasn't really my concern.

The next day, because I'd decided to work from home due to the "terrifying" storms, I happened to "catch" the dear old Postie as he shoved some more soggy junk mail through my door, and I asked him whether he knew when that branch might be re-opening. He said that it had been a bit of a surprise to him, too, and, when I pressed him about whether my parcel might just still be in his van as a consequence, he said that it had all been returned to the main sorting office somewhere out in the wilds.

He also mentioned something in passing about someone telling him that they'd seen an ambulance at the Post Office on that afternoon, and it might be worth "leaving it a few days" before trying to collect it again, and so, once again, my guilt over their much bigger problems managed to suppress my annoyance at my own minor inconvenience.

The same situation still existed when I called again on my way to the supermarket at 10.00am on Saturday morning, by which time I was getting rather tetchy at the seeming lack of a "Plan B" with regards to where I might go to collect the blooming thing… but, at least, it wasn't actually a "blooming" thing that was slowly dying in a depot somewhere...

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds…"

I fully appreciated that this must have been a dire emergency situation for the owners of that little sub-Post Office, but you do find yourself asking what exactly is the "Plan B" when it comes to parcel collection under such circumstances, or where you have to go to to find any information about when the branch is likely to re-open, given that the telephone number on the card is to the very place which remained steadfastly closed…

Rather naturally, as is my wont, I finally decided to use the Royal Mail website to make an enquiry, only to find that, on the very same evening, the place in question was open and working normally again.

I always do this.

My complaints about the "late delivery" of something or other from an online retailer is almost always sent just one day too soon, and the parcel inevitably turns up the next day. Very late, well beyond the limits of my over-streched patience, and just late enough for me to have the inconvenience of having to return the duplicate order when it finally turns up.

I suppose that it's just another one of those weird life situations, really, but how exactly do you collect your parcel when the place you're supposed to get it from is closed and shows no sign of reopening…?