Without the Post Office service, I don’t think we’d ever have survived up in the wilds above Sparty Lea. Folks in the village, of course, can easily pop over to the Post Office, and so do we, but our round trip is 10 miles, so we try to have at least two other errands at the same time, for efficiency’s sake.
Of course, we also get deliveries from some of the other main companies: Hermes and DPD mostly now, and ParcelForce especially. The Parcel Force delivery guy is so friendly, and since he can, when he has parcels that won’t fit in the big box at the gate, he brings us post that needs to be signed for, right to our door, up our long track, with aplomb and a smile! This kind of service means that deep rural life is not only bearable, feasible, but also a joy, when you can get the same goods online as anyone else in the country.
I know there’s an environmental cost: packages from each delivery company trundled all over the country just to service us and others spread out in a vast array across the land. But it works, and we’d be loath to lose it. We’re always happier when the packages come by Royal Mail / ParcelForce — it’s part of the regular routine, after all, not a special journey just to us.
And then there’s the rural post boxes, so crucial for convenient living, as long as you build up your stock of the right stamps on your visit to the Post Office, of course. Just drop off your letter in the box for collection at 4:30 every day (10:15 on Saturdays) and breathe easily — it’s gone!
The only ‘service’ I can think of that’s more regular than the Post Office is this little diary, for this year at least, which doesn’t worry about Sunday closing, but rather just ploughs along through every possible day, all 365 of them if we can! Blame that on the masochism of the editor, eh?! But Post Office workers deserve a normal day off, like everyone else, don’t they?
Anyway, in terms of service, we couldn’t be more glowing and delighted with the Post Office deliveries, I don’t think, and this fact alone deserves a celebratory mention. Comes normal delivery time, circa 3:00pm, and I’m raring to zip down the track, to see what’s arrived. The little ribbon pinned inside the door is an indicator: if it’s fluttering in the breeze at the bottom of the box, then new post is within. Such anticipation . . . even though often it’s only junk or bills, drat! Sometimes it’s a package from Canada, the States, Australia, or a more mundane eBay purchase. Sometimes it’s a special card, or a real letter, a rarity these days, but still, lovely! Still a thrill to carry back up the long track and open at our leisure.
The Post Office service is one of the great, possibly unique, features of living in the UK, and long may it continue!