Annoyingly, I found myself ten short.
We are talking leaflets here, in case you couldn’t guess. I had set out
in good heart first thing this afternoon to deliver leaflets advertising the Tarring Market this coming Saturday, armed with 62 cards which should have been sufficient for my task. Only to find that the last ten houses on my delivery round would not get a
card through their letterboxes and so would not know that this Saturday the Tarring Market celebrates the 575th anniversary of the granting of its Royal Charter to hold such an annual event.
They won’t know, will they, that they could spend their Saturday morning listening to the Worthing Silver Band or buying hot dogs from the hot dog stall, or trying their luck on the tombola. And it will be All My Fault.
Mr B, when I returned from my wandering with the sad news, was quite disproportionately cross about the Card Shortage. I have noticed that Mr B has become Mr Angry of late
though invariably his anger is directed at the Inconsequential rather than Matters of Importance. I haven’t fathomed out why this should be so but if and when I do I will let you know. Today his anger was concentrated on the Person Unknown who had counted
out the cards in my bundle and left me short. He wasn’t so worried that the folks at number 180 would miss out on the delights of the bric-a-brac stall or the opportunity to win the magnificent sum of £200 on the Grand Draw. No, he was thinking
of me - bless him! - and the fact that I would have to retrace my steps tomorrow. Always providing I could somehow lay my hands on ten more cards, I was thinking - but I didn’t tell Mr B that because I thought it would simply add fuel to his fire.
Actually I do really enjoy delivering leaflets. I think I would have made a good postman / woman / person. Especially these days when I would be able to push a bright red
postal trolley rather than shouldering a heavy postbag. Mind you, I would be a Fair Weather Postman, I’m not sure I would be quite so keen traipsing up the garden paths in the pouring rain...
What I do enjoy is looking out for the plants which seem to flourish in other people’s gardens because, let’s face it, if they are happy there, the chances are they will thrive in my garden, too. I am also investigating
those boxes which can be affixed to a wall so that our poor paper boy wouldn’t have to struggle to push our daily newspapers through our ridiculously narrow letterbox. On weekends, when he has the heavy supplements to battle with, I have to lurk in the
kitchen around delivery time so that I can call out: “Coming to help!” and open the front door for him when I see him coming up the garden path.
like seeing the names which some people have given their homes and working out their significance. Our home is called Thornton because the houses in this area were built on Thornton Farm. We didn’t christen it, we inherited it, and I love the fact that
we are keeping a little bit of history alive. I enjoy seeing how householders find ways to personalise their front doorsteps with plant pots, or ornaments, or - for those with sufficient room - benches from which they could watch the world go by, should they
so choose. I know, I know, I am just Plain Nosey.
But, hey, what’s this? It seems I have fallen short on more than my cards. There is a label on the recycling
bin in one front garden - it reads “Star Recycler.” How can this be? How can this person be awarded such exalted status and not me? Am I not a prolific recycler? Every fortnight I have a full recycling bin, an additional box-full of recyclables
and usually a couple of large cardboard boxes for good measure - mostly medical supplies which always seem to arrive extremely well wrapped up. Although pleased with my assiduous attention to the fate of my cardboard, I do feel guilty about Matt Next Door
who kindly offered to save the strain on my Recovering Shoulder by putting out my bins on his way to work every week. He probably had no idea what he was letting himself in for - but I am ever grateful.
I wouldn’t have known what I was missing, had I not been on Delivery Duty today. I think both Matt Next Door and I deserve a Star Recycler badge.
Or, at the very least, we should be Highly Commended.