Imagine a world in a which the simple act of taking a letter to be dropped off somewhere turns into a series of disasters.
Well, two disasters.
Such was the fun of this evening.
I needed to drop a letter off somewhere because it couldn’t be trusted to the vagaries of the postal service based on the timescales involved. I figured that hand-delivering it would eliminate all the worries associated with the will it/won’t it question surrounding its arrival and that I could rest easy in my bed.
We made it to the far side of town and then the car packed up.
So we spent an hour in a car park in an okay, but not super okay, part of town waiting for the AA to come. We had, in a true act of genuine preparedness, left the house with no money or cards. We had our phones. That was it.
Valuable lessons were learnt this night.
Lessons like when we leave the house and I say “do I need anything?” that the answer is yes. Not just me. Both of us. We need to take things. Even if wherever it is we’re going is only a hop, spit and a jump away. We need to take things. Because Norman – the car, obviously – cannot be trusted to hold it together. He can go all the way to Scotland and back, but he can’t hold it together for the simple act of letter distribution.
We were fixed and back on the road after an hour or so spent in a car park looking like the two most unenthusiastic doggers anyone has ever seen.
We got to where we needed to be to drop off the letter. A place which was, naturally, closed. But that was expected and no great shock.
The fact that they didn’t appear to have a letter box, however, did put a bit of a crimp in proceedings.
Needless to say we came home. With the letter.
You know when you wish you hadn’t bothered…