>This next little ditty will either strike you as a weird piece of happenstance, serendipity (call it what you will or it won’t.
Our local post office is quite good for dealing with straightforward things like the sale of a first class stamp or paying a bill but if you through recorded delivery books at them or present them with a request to send something to somewhere remote and exotic in under three months they tend to get a little flummaxed. Normally, though, postcodes don’t throw them – them being a mainstay of the postal service.
The new certificates of posting are all computerised and so you are sometimes faced with the “Computer says no” scenario. On Thursday we had the same thing: woman in the post office insisting the postcode was wrong, me insisting it was right. She decided to hand write the address on the receipt/certificate of posting (probably completely invalid) crossing through the computer generated stuff. There was such a queue (another one) behind me that I didn’t scrutinize what she had done but put it in my purse and went to Tescos to buy succour (can you buy it?) for my family.
On Friday morning the receipt is on my desk and something about it keeps drawing my eye. I can’t understand how my name is on it as I never gave my name and it wasn’t on the back of the parcel. I’m trying to ignore it and phone the BA but the line just rings and rings and this thing is drawing me to it. My name is in the bit she crossed out with a dud postcode at the end. I look more closely and see it says E & F McLachlan (okay, I have an extra a) Architects. Do I send this Fiona a Christmas card or will she just think I’m mad.