Monday, 27 July 2009

Postman with Nous




August 25th 2007
As my brother buys lots of stuff on e-bay, parcels arrive at his house all the time. Today I was out in the garden with my mother’s biggest radio set on fairly loud volume, as no-one can hear on this large piece of land, when the postman suddenly appeared at my elbow. He had tried in vain to ring the doorbell (both my elderly parents taking a morning nap surrounded by the Saturday newspapers), but had followed the sound of the radio, bearing a very large parcel (actually a full-size brass trumpet for my small nephew’s birthday) as well as a small padded envelope bearing my name and only the name of the street. Using his brain, he knew that I was staying here (but not my name) and as he knows all the other people on his route, deduced that this might be me. I can never equate my elder son’s reasonable intelligence quotient with his inability to listen or use his common sense (he posted this for me in London, not even c/o my mother’s name!) A quick chat with the postman revealed that he has also established me as “bi” (British/South African) - he knew my accent because his mother lives in S.A. Small world even out here in the country

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