Postman Chris

I recently found myself out of work. The reality was that I was only unemployed for about a month. While I was trying to get back into Engineering, I under took temporary for the Royal Mail.

Why the Royal Mail you may well ask. My Dad lost his job with a local engineering firm in the early 1980’s and after a few temporary jobs, he joined the Royal Mail as a mail sorter and the then New Gatwick Mail Centre. He worked there until he retired about 15 years later. I was aware that they used to employ a lot of temporary staff during the run up to Christmas when I spotted an advert in the local paper, I applied. I was subsequently invited to an interview, which turned out to be a paperwork filling exercise. The term ‘Interview’ seemed to be pushing the concept somewhat. I got the impression that if you could fill out the required forms correctly, you were already in. I was asked which shift I’d like and given a start date.

Gatwick Mail Centre

Why the Royal Mail you may well ask. My Dad lost his job with a local engineering firm in the early 1980’s and after a few temporary jobs, he joined the Royal Mail as a mail sorter and the then New Gatwick Mail Centre. He worked there until he retired about 15 years later. I was aware that they used to employ a lot of temporary staff during the run up to Christmas when I spotted an advert in the local paper, I applied. I was subsequently invited to an interview, which turned out to be a paperwork filling exercise. The term ‘Interview’ seemed to be pushing the concept somewhat. I got the impression that if you could fill out the required forms correctly, you were already in. I was asked which shift I’d like and given a start date. 

Me as a Royal Mail Minion

   

It was chaos on day one. There were hundreds of us all trying to sign on at once and few people there could grasp the concept of orderly queuing and finding their names on the list quickly. Then it was time for a safety brief, manual handling training and a tour of the Mail Centre. The work involved moving large trolleys (called Yorks) of mail and/or packets from the loading bay at one end of the Centre to the relevant area ready for sorting. The Mail Centres main floor was, we were informed, was about the size of 6 football pitches. Once the incoming articles were in the correct areas they could be sorted either by hand or machine, sometimes both. The area I was assigned o was called ‘DSA’, which stood for Direct Access. This is prepaid corporate mail which can be sorted be machine. Think of it as things such as bank statements, utility bills and junk mail. There were three distinct roles here, which were ‘Tipping’, ‘Filling’ and ‘Unloading’.

Tipping is the process of removing a mail bag from a York, cutting it open and tipping its contents onto a conveyor. Once the mail reaches the top of the conveyor, the ‘Filler’ sorts the letters so they are all the same way round and puts them in a plastic crate. Once the crate is full it is pushed off the rack onto a sloping row of rollers. Gravity (sometimes) allows the crate to travel down the slope ready for the next exciting stage. The ‘Unloader’ will now remove the full crate from the rollers and put it in another York, which is then taken (by someone else or electric tuck) to a sorting machine at the other end of the centre.

From late November until just after Christmas I did a combination of those of roles from 6am to 2pm 5 days a week. It was physically hard work, but required virtually no mental dexterity what so ever. Therefore, at 5:58am I would put my brain in a draw and retrieve it again at about 1:45pm, in time for the ‘I want to sign out, but can’t remember my name’ ritual.

During my time at the Gatwick Mail Centre I made a few friends, one of whom I now keep in touch with via Facebook and where I can I try to put him in touch with potential employers. He has since found himself a good regular job. I also was put my name down for more work after Christmas.

In mid January I had a call from the Crawley Delivery Office manager, “Would I be interested in door to door mail delivery?”. Hell yeah and the following week I was a Casual Postman pounding the streets of the town, stuffing mail though peoples letter boxes. In my first week I wore out two pairs of boots (not new), cut my hand 3 times, tripping over a step impaling myself on a gate and got attacked by the same dog twice. To be honest I nearly gave up before the end of that first week, but I’m a stubborn idiot who doesn’t know when to throw in the towel. Therefore I stuck with it, made some new friends, walked approximately 10 miles a day, learnt how to outsmart dogs, befriended numerous cats and destroyed another 3 pairs of boots.

Postman Humour - I can't find my van. Have you seen it? It's a red one!

Postman Chris stops for Brunch

   
I quite enjoyed the daily routine. Up at 7am, walk to work for 8:30am, prepare the mail (parcels, redirections and bundle up), out the door with a regular Postman/women by 9:30am, deliver mail and finish at round 2pm. Then it’s a short hobble home to crash out on the sofa, with a cup of tea and the cat and fall asleep in front of the TV. I did this 6 days a week, right up until 28^th April.

This much mail takes 2 Postman 4 hours to deliver

   

Too much mail for one van - This was in Ifield, Crawley

The work was great, easy and I got to meet lots of people. I was fitter than I have been since I was in my 20’s and I lost 2 stone. However, I would probably have terrible arthritis in my legs within 5 years. I now have a massive respect for postman and I still wave to them in the street as I know most of them. It would also appear that I did the job very well as they really didn’t want me to leave and have told me that I can go back anytime I like. 

Postman Chris has just finished his last delivery and is about to sign off

The reason I left was because I have now returned to the Railway industry. 

I will always remember my time as a Postman with fond memories. It’s not a job for the faint hearted, but they’re an amazing bunch and it certainly is a lot of fun.

Always Remember - Be nice to your postman, they know where you live 8-)   
   


Regards



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Good Bye 2014

It is now January 2015 and much of the country is preparing to return to their chosen vocation after an all to brief Christmas break. Usually I would be joining tomorrows mass migration to London, but not this year. Why?, I hear you ask. Well, it's due to a decision that I made in early December 2013. I was unhappy in the direction that my career had been taking and decided that it was time to move on to bigger, better and exciting things. To this end I took a position on an exciting and forward looking project that one day in the not to distant future will revolutionise the control of trains throughout this green and present land.

Therefore it was with great excitement and a renewed vigour for life that I entered 2014. However, this sense of well being and excitement didn't last much more than 6 months. In July my Dad passed away after suffering worsening health over the last few years. As you might imagine this hit me pretty hard and meant that my Mum needed an awful lot of help and support. The paperwork is still driving us mad, but it's largely under control and I am helping my Mum to look to the future positively. After all, she now has the opportunity to think about herself rather than care for Dad (which she did brilliantly).

In August we all, including Mum, took our folding camper on a trip to Yorkshire. It was Mum's first camping trip for the best part of a decade and all had a great time. We had chosen Yorkshire because it has beautiful countryside, interesting towns and my Dad's brothers family live in York. To be honest I had quite forgotten just how amazing Yorkshire is. I could easily move there permanently.

In September my Wife and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary, which is quite an achievement in anyones book. We were also looking forward to our late summer holiday in Tenerife, which was all arranged with the help of my cousin (Thank you Sherri).

Then in early October, that exciting new position reinventing the UK's railways came to an unceremonious and sudden end. Thankfully our Tenerife holiday was paid for in full, including spending money. This meant that we could still go and forget about our troubles, for a while at least.

The next milestone was also in October, when our Son came of age and was very proud to be legally able to buy his Dad a pint. It was a pint of Doombar and I enjoyed it very much indeed.

Christmas has been a muted affair generally, but we did find time to visit some of my Mums family in Bristol and visit the engineering wonder that is Brunel's suspension bridge in Clifton.

As you may have guessed, I have been job hunting like a Ninja. I've had a few interviews, with varying levels of success. Christmas has rather got in the way and I'm hoping to hear some good news in the next few days and have another interview in a week or so. In the meantime, I decided to take a leaf out of my Dad's book and got myself a temporary job as a Christmas Casual with the Royal Mail. It was supposed to be for a month until 24th December, but they keep calling me in to do more. I have also applied for a temporary position as a Postman while I decide my next move.

Who knows what 2015 will being us. I have a few ideas, but which why the chips will fall is currently in the lap of the Gods.

Regards



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Today I am Sad and Sickened !!!!

Rolf Harris, one of my favourite and most respected entertainers has fallen from grace with an enormous crash. For today he has been convicted on twelve counts of indecent assault.

During my youth he was omnipresent on the TV and I also saw he as a great man. Someone to be looked up to and respected. I enjoyed his art, music and work on animal hospital. He even appeared on Kate Bush's 2005 album Aerial. The pinnacle of his career could be his portrait of the Queen. I must admit, it's not my favourite piece of art but it has it's place none the less. According to news reports the portrait has suddenly disappeared. To where no one seems to know.

Mystery over Rolf Harris Royal portrait

Up until now I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Innocent until proven guilty. I hoped it was all a terrible mistake and he was the victim of Gold Diggers. Tonight I can no longer hold onto that naive misconception.

Tonight I feel great sadness, revulsion and deceived by Rolf Harris. A man I looked up to and had admired for a great many years.

Who will tie your Kangaroo down when they cart you off in the Black Maria Rolf?




Regards



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The Gasman Cometh

A couple of weeks ago the Southern Gas Networks turned up in our road to replace the gas pipes. They started off by digging up the verges and gardens on the opposite side of the road and liberally spreading mud all over the place. This included the top of my car, so I took to parking it further down the road.

Last friday I came home from work to discover a large hole right outside our gate and a very large and heavy paving slab in the middle of my lawn. I managed to get the slab off my lawn as I didn't want my grass killed. Over the weekend two cars managed to crash into the plastic barriers outside in the road and the neighbours children seemed to fiddle with the barriers most of the weekend.

On my return from work on Tuesday I was greeted by a very large hole where my front path used to be. Fortunately, they had covered the hole with a board so I could reach the front door, but they had deposited a huge pile of earth, clay and sand directly onto my front lawn. I was not happy. If they had asked for our permission before hand I would have told them to put it on the drive where it wouldn't damage the grass.

The following day they disconnected the gas supply while replacing the pipes and refused to relight our boiler as it's quite old. They went even further and have issued us with an "At Risk" notice, which means we can't use it until it's been looked at. The problem for us is that it's very old and spares are now thin on the ground these days. This could end up costing us £1000's. At least I suppose it's good news that it's May and not December.

Today they have filled in the giant hole in front of our door and relaid the paving slabs. Time will tell whether they have been reseated properly or not. The bad news is that the lawn is wrecked and the whole garden, lawn and drive has turned into a mud bath. There's also mud on my motorbike, the front door and it's getting in the house too. Tomorrow I intend to jet wash the garden in an attempt to clean it up, but we still have the hole right outside our gate and this evening I can smell gas.

This whole episode reminds me of that famous song by Flanders & Swann. The Gasman cometh on Monday afternoon, for us at least.




Regards



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Orange Awakening

As I’ve mentioned before, my parents are classical music fans and have never really embraced popular music. As a consequence I wasn’t exposed to pop music in my youth and missed out on the music of the 1970’s almost completely. I only really discovered pop music in about 1982 when I started secondary school. I suppose that because of this my favourite genre of music has always 1980’s syntherzer pop, such as Howard Jones, Dépêche Mode and Yazoo. Later I discovered Jean Michael Jarre and later still, Iron Maiden. In fact I didn’t really discover Led Zeppelin until about 7 2008.

I was aware on a German group called Tangerine Dream, but never really paid them too much attention, until yesterday. I was at a lose end music wise and a colleague mentioned that he had been to see (and hear) Rick Wakeman in Birmingham on Tuesday. This lead to a conversion about whether he and another colleague should see Tangerine Dream later this year. I decided to have a quick browse through iTunes and came across a compilation album of their early 1970’s material, so I took the plunge. It’s called “The Virgin Years – 1974 to 1978”.

OMG!!!! It’s awesome and 24 hours later, I’m still hooked. I would describe it as a cross between early Jean Michael Jarre but with less structure and electronic Jazz. It just washes over you in smooth melodic wave after wave of soothing sound.

This is the kind of music that I should be writing. Perhaps I should fire up my home studio equipment once more and unleash my unbridled talents upon an unsuspecting world once more. You have been warned 8-)

 

Regards



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Potters Fields Bermondsey

Potters Fields is a small green space which borders Tooley Street, the River Thames, More London and Tower Bridge in London. 

Today it is a small park in the shadow of City Hall (or Boris’s Place as I call it) and there’s always something odd going on. One of the first activities I witnesses there was a Lycra clad women who was trying to uproot a tree with an oversized rubber band.

Next there was a metal pen that had been erected on the grass, which was holding back a large number of bright pink Space Hoppers. This was closely followed by a large tent which was displaying a new Electric Taxi. Yesterday evening, due to the sudden change in the weather, it was packed with tourists photographing the City skyline and sun bathing on the damp grass.

There are also the regular dogs walkers, commuters passing through and the guy with the Ghostbusters backpack blowing the leaves and puddles off the path.

One thing’s for sure, there is never a dull moment at Potters Fields.



Regards



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Has the Blog had its Day?

I’ve been blogging on and off for a little over 8 years now. I suspect that most of my rambling have largely gone unnoticed by the world in general. In fact, I probably get more attention to my insightful observations of the world from my Facebook followers than by direct interaction via this blog.

I do enjoy the medium of the blog, as it allows me to record my thoughts in a unique and direct way. I can say what I like (within reason). These words I can craft at length until I am happy with them and only then do I release them to an uninterested public. Once I have released them into the wild, there they sit forever. This allows my views to be completely ignored by billions of people worldwide. What more could the modern blogger ask for?

In between those flashes of writing inspiration I do enjoy reading the ramblings of other bloggers. Over the years a number of those I’ve followed have progressed to writing books based upon their blogs. However, most just seem to have vanished from the face of the planet without trace. Have these tortured souls given up, been diverted by other interests or been abducted by aliens. I will probably never know which it is.

In the meantime, I shall continue to comment on my very personnel and perhaps twisted view of the world about me. I hope you continue to enjoy not reading my ramblings. Until next time ……..

   
Regards



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Polishing Shoes

My Dad did his National Service in the East Surrey Regiment, joining the Army Band and signing up for an extra 5 years. He once told me that he would make extra money by polishing everyone else's boots too. 

This skill he passed on to me. There's something therapeutic about polishing shoes and it will always remind me of my Dad.

Love you Dad xxxx 

Regards

Chris

The Bearded Man of Tower Bridge

There is an old guy, I assume homeless, who always sits on the North West side of Tower Bridge. He sits and watches the world go by and offers everyone a toothy smile. He sports a rather impressive, if unkempt beard and never annoys or harasses.

I know not his name or his circumstance. I wish him well in his simple but hard life. Be safe, happy bearded man.

Regards

Chris