Phone call from a chap with an Indian accent: “This is Pharma delivery service. I have a parcel with medicine for Grenouille Chrome, I am on Chrome Approaches but I can’t find your house.”
This has happened frequently over the last 20 months: at least once a week, often involving consignments of G’s multifarious supplies. GPS systems seem incapable of locating a house that predates postcodes by over 200 years. Instead, they take delivery drivers to the new flats in the cul-de-sac around the corner (which are built on what used to be this house’s farmyard).
So I say, “If you’re on Chrome Approaches, I could come up to the top of the drive and look out for you?”
“I’m by the new flats.”
Turns out he isn’t. Gazing out of our window as he speaks, I see a high-sided white Transit turn into Farmyard Flats Cul-de-Sac, having passed the house again.
“Is that you in the big white van? If you look to your left, can you see an old cottage? That’s us.”
Leaving him to turn round once more, I hang up, go and put my shoes on and trot up to the top of the drive.
The van is parked right across the pavement, and the chap is in the back, clipboard in hand, scrabbling around amongst the packages.
Presently, he emerges, pulling his mask up. “I am so sorry, they have listed the delivery on my schedule but they haven’t put the package on the van. I will have to find out what has happened when I get back to the depot. Maybe it will be here tomorrow.”
He brightens. “At least I will know where to come next time!”
Hundred pounds to a few small potatoes says ‘next time’, it’ll be a different driver.
Undeliverance.
17 Fri Dec 2021
Posted Uncategorized
in