The postman always rings twice

Well, just as I said, the postman arrived and I signed for BB’s ‘Love Box Weekend’ tickets. My, that sounds like a good day out, especially with the weather we are having. It snowed in Battersea this evening…
The postman and I talked about his grandson Zac, who is nine weeks old and smiling. His Grandpa swore he heard him say ‘dada’.
Then I walked the dog. I bought him a new rope lead. It smells good but he won’t hold it in his mouth. He obviously has an aversion to twine. It’s about the only thing he does have an aversion to. If any kind of food has been discarded, mislaid, masticated or eliminated, it will somehow find its way into his Labradorian gob. I now walk next to him and scream, tersely, just to remind him who is boss.
So, carrying my five birthday cards, me and the hound set off in the midday sun. He on his new lead and me holding it. I was feeling bright and cheery and awfully virtuous…

BB was coming home for lunch so I timed it to walk down the hill and past the golf course, BB’s old school, and into the little post office. I’m having to take it easy because of my knee, and the dog’s having to take it easy because he’s 91.
So, carrying my five July birthday cards, I entered the Postal Office. I have so many Cancerian friends: Bella on the 1st, John on the 2nd, Gavin on the 3rd, Nick on the 4th, Ruby Tuesday on the 5th, Barbara and Sasha on the 7th, Louis on the 9th, Hilda on the 10th (only she died years ago so it doesn’t count). And Mary on the 28th, although to be fair, that makes her a Leo. Do you really care? I’ve already given up the will to live.
We arrived at the post office at 1.03. The two women who run it said in unison, ‘The post office is closed.’ And then, as if cued by Daniel Barenboim himself, they raised their voices and, looking straight at Jackson, bellowed ‘NO DOGS’. Poor mutt. I was taken aback and flabbergasted all at the same time.
‘Noooo’, I said with that downward inflection that people have when they’ve walked miles only to find the post office shut, ‘I only need to post 5 letters.’ One of the women left the counter and disappeared into the back room leaving her partner to cope with an irate customer. ‘I could sell you stamps, but I can’t weigh the letters’, she said smugly. Not moving a muscle, she held my gaze. I wanted to swear. ‘I’ve just walked two miles’, I lied.
The one remaining postmistress looked at me, in the steely way that women who own post offices do, when it’s just gone one, and they’ve been closed for three minutes and their beetroot sandwich is going cold in the back room, but she said nothing. She just stared at me waiting for my next salvo.
‘You bloody jobsworths. You’re all the same. It would take you precisely two minutes, if that, to deal with me. Instead, you are pulling rank, you useless piece of… and don’t think I’ll ever buy my premium bonds here ever again!’, I thought. What I actually said was ‘Oh.’
Jackson and I both walked out of the post office with our tails between our legs. I burst into tears. The unfairness of it all. Then, to add insult to injury, it started to rain. Not a little drip. Great big ploppy raindrops. Thunder was rolling over in Rotherfield so I had to shove all my July birthday cards up me jumper. By the time we arrived home, Jackson was limping and dripping. All my birthday cards were limp and dripping, and I had fifteen minutes to get to the main post office before I missed the afternoon post.
I leapt into my car, drove like the clappers to the Post Office and, once I’d arrived, practiced my deep breathing as the woman behind the counter was slower than the slowest person on a very slow day in Slowcester.
I arrived home in time to make some wonderful grape and apple juice and prepare a luscious raw salad with buckwheat fusili. Gorgeous, it was. I made a dressing with balsamic vinegar, worcestershire sauce and fabbo olive oil from the Olive Oil Club.
Then the daughter and I sped down to Brighton to drop off a ditty that Auntie B had written for her niece. We all had a cuddle and then it was back home.
She’s now gone back to Battersea to be with Jim, lucky girl, whilst I am here with the dog, the cat and a pile of easy reading. I may just have a bath and enjoy them in the suds.
It’s time to stop. I am writing this naked. Well, I have got a pair of Jim’s red soxs on. I am cold. Maybe the snow is moving south from Battersea.
Have a good night. CUSoon.

8 thoughts on “The postman always rings twice”

  1. What a frustrating time you have had with the PO! I am waiting for our Barbra Streisand tickets – her Manchester concert next Tuesday – and am getting very anxious. I wonder if you are going to one of Barbra’s London concerts? Anyway, you now have time on your own to continue with your book and don’t forget to pamper yourself!

  2. So pleased with CUSoon Much better than over promising and under delivering!!!!!!! No seriously, The blogs great! CUsooner!

  3. ………….and then they wonder why rural POs are being closed???
    love reading what you write Jeni… have the marvellous knack of being able to recreate your voice in prose….
    ……………….have you ever kissed the Blarney Stone?
    luv sue

  4. Oooo don’t you just hate jobsworths, and they wonder why they are closing the twillage post offices!!! Writing this with the most humungus hangover we didn’t win the British Final but we partied and sang the hardest!!
    Can’t wait to see you back on telly Jen I kept getting into trouble listening to LBC through secret headphones at work!!! p.s Did they do the press night at the Globe, how did lovely Jim do???
    Love Marmite Girl xx

  5. Hi Jeni,
    The word “jobsworth” doesn’t quite cover it! Nast narrow minded b*~~^$#. Never mind them. They are just daft and lack social skills and will always have unhappy lives.
    Do think you should finish the book as it would be a real winner if its as good as the blog! What are you reading at the moment?
    Chris x

  6. Hi Jen, bloody jobsworths, probably dried up old lesbians, I can only say that cos I am too ! Sue Campbell..Hope your Babs Tickets arrive soon, she has cancelled tonight in Stockholm due to throat problems!!!! I am going to see her in ireland all being well..keep up blog Jen its smashin!

  7. Hi Jeni, oh you do make me laugh,your descriptions of things – well I feel I am there with you. As others have said no wonder post offices are closing! You still have’nt told us how much weight you have lost? I worry I might not recognise you next time you’re on the telly!!!! Lots a luv x

  8. Hi Jeni
    You have a knack of making me smile every time I read your blogs although I sympathise with you problems with the post office – I had to queue for 25 minutes the other day and there were only 7 people in front of me with ‘supposedly’ 5 desks open. Don’t stop writing – it makes my day and judging my your comments, a lot of other people too. Can’t wait to see you back on the telly.
    Jenny B

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