I’m in the city for a couple of days and spending the morning working at the computer in our fourth floor flat. There’s no one else around and I thought I’d have a few hours of peace and quiet to get the year end accounts organised ready to take to the accountant next week. Instead, it’s only just eleven o’clock and I’ve had to buzz open the main building door three times already – and all for postmen. Well, ok, postpeople, perhaps.
First for someone with a magazine to deliver. She didn’t say what magazine, but it’s probably from the local the estate agent – they seem to be the ones with money to spend on glossy advertising.
Next for a woman delivering the “readers’ circle” magazine. (When I answered the interphone she greeted me with the name of the woman who lives on the first floor. Then the one on the third, then the second… It seems I’m the only woman in the building who isn’t a subscriber.)
The third time was for the “local council postal delivery”, which is a service I didn’t even know existed, although I do know there’s a “bank postal service” which delivers correspondence from a limited group of financial institutions.
We still have the actual post office postal delivery to come (we get one delivery a day, around lunchtime) and, quite possibly, a couple of “commercial post” deliveries – the ones who bring the flyers for Pizzahut and “get your loan authorised today” type adverts.
I’m not sure if it’s the day for one of the local free newspapers; if so, they’ll be round this afternoon. And there’s always a chance a client will send us something by messenger.
I suppose I should just be thankful that I don’t have to go down the four floors to open the door each time.