There are too many doughnuts in my home. I bought some doughnuts last night, coming home from the office Christmas party. There's a little doughnut shop at the train station. They sell doughnuts, as you would expect. So, since I do not regularly enjoy doughnuts very often at all, last night I thought I would pick up some to bring home.
The hungry traveller can buy a selection box of the variously-topped doughnuts, which seems very convenient. Looking at the price list, I see that if you buy one box, you can get a second box at a discount. This seems like good value for money. After all, doughnuts are expensive. Good, but expensive.
What I did not realise, not being a seasoned doughnut purchaser, is that a box of doughnuts is not six doughnuts, it is twelve. Which, by the way, is more. This means that the second box of doughnuts is also not six, it is another twelve, making a total of 24 doughnuts. Plus, as it was late at night, because they would otherwise have gone to waste, because I have a nice smile, or perhaps because they thought I was homeless, they gave me a third box on the house. And a free bag to put them all in.
This is 36 doughnuts, which, by the way, is too many for one person to eat in a sensible timeframe, and a full three times as many as the already too many 12 doughnuts I had been expecting. The result being that I have 30 doughnuts in my fridge (yes I know, I'm a bad boy) still waiting to be eaten. I have a feeling that the remainder may go hard - or off - before I reach them. What is a boy to do?
In recognition of my valued custom and my single-handed attempt at proping up the doughnut economy, they gave me a voucher, which entitles me to 12 more free doughnuts, if I buy another 12 doughnuts in January. By that time, I expect to have learnt my lesson - that even 12 doughnuts is too many doughnuts to purchase at once, let alone buy 12 get 12 free. Either that, or I will have had my Christmas enlivened by one or more heart attacks. In which case, I will probably be in no mood for doughnuts, unless I have to spend any more time in hospital with a "Nil By Mouth" sign over my bed. Which, by the way, is how I spent a couple of days a few weeks ago - but that's another story which I'll tell you later.
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
King Of Postage 4
Another vigorous and successful eBay session at the weekend means that I have some packages to post. Most of this weekend's sales fit easily into jiffy bags and therefore straight into the nice little postbox at the end of my road, but when things get larger and more complicated, inevitably it eventually becomes time for the King of Postage to pay another visit to the Post Office.
So it was today that I braved the icy cold outdoors, trekking across land and sea to make my way to my local office of post. Coming indoors I found it not only to be surprisingly warm, but full of people. In marked contrast to my previous visit, no less. Clearly they were not expecting me, but no matter. I took my place in the queue, observing the ordinary people all around.
Amongst the ten people ahead of me, old ladies, large burly men, people looking dangerously like they wanted to renew their car tax, a tattooed skinhead, and a lady with glasses and crazy hair not entirely unlike my own.
What is more, this lady knew her stuff. She had multiple packages, wrapped up in those blue metallic mailing bags so favoured by eBay sellers. I know, because I had some myself, not so long ago. Obviously a professional.
Behind me, I am distracted by the sounds of sellotape. Someone has clearly not finished wrapping their item, and is finishing off the job in the queue behind me. Maybe they had to come to the post office to pick a suitably-sized jiffy bag off the shelves, and are wrapping things up while they wait. A serious breach of etiquette, not least because it's rude to use a jiffy bag before you have paid for it. The poor fool. But the sounds of sellotaping continue, on and on and on, such that I am forced to turn my head and casually regard the scene unfolding behind me.
It is a horror show. Someone appears to be trying to post a box of chocolates, by wrapping it in multiple layers of sellotape. Round and around, over and over, until it might be in a postable condition. This is amateur packing at best, and I am not impressed. Then I notice how the package is being labelled. The destination address is written on a piece of lined paper, also being furiously sellotaped to the box. Lined paper! Handwritten addresses, on LINED PAPER, being sellotaped around a box!
It is an INSULT. An insult to the King of Postage, directly behind me, in my Royal presence. A lesser man would have objected to such shoddy packaging behaviour, but I maintained my regal stateliness and instead turned back to regarding the crazy hair lady in front of me.
This lady transports her packages in a large striped laundry bag. Oh my. I've done this in my time as well. I look at the address labels on the packages. Handwritten, in a bold but clear handwriting style. Nice touch. And... wait! What is this! She has Royal Mail Recorded Delivery stickers ALREADY ON HER ITEMS! A challenger to the King of Postage! Urgently, I scan her packages for stamps... none there. I maintain superiority, but it is a close fight with a well-prepared foe.
As we shuffle closer to the counters, the lady steps to one side. "You can go ahead of me, I need to go to the window." Aha! A false move! There is no need to wait for the window if you have packages - the main counter can accomodate you as well. I graciously step ahead and make my way to the counter, where I hand over my multiple packages which already have stamps on.
I also have an item to send by Special Delivery, so to give the ladies a treat I decide that I will allow them to process this item as if I were a normal person who did not know how to pre-prepare an SD package. Shiny labels are retrieved from counter drawers, and affixed to my package. The address is checked and is found to be correct - as if there would be any doubt. It'll be £5.05 then, please, and the King is ready with exact change, King-style, because that is how we roll.
I wonder if the nice counter lady could even have been aware that she was not just serving the King of Postage, but also the mighty international Changemaster, lord of all small coins and the necessary 5p pieces which are such a large part of a £5.05 transaction.
Our business transacted, we exchanged mutal thanks and I ventured back out into the icy wind and snow.
"Hail to the King", I am sure I heard someone say, although it might have been lost in the hoo-hah and outrage when the crazy sellotape lady tried to post her box of chocolates.
So it was today that I braved the icy cold outdoors, trekking across land and sea to make my way to my local office of post. Coming indoors I found it not only to be surprisingly warm, but full of people. In marked contrast to my previous visit, no less. Clearly they were not expecting me, but no matter. I took my place in the queue, observing the ordinary people all around.
Amongst the ten people ahead of me, old ladies, large burly men, people looking dangerously like they wanted to renew their car tax, a tattooed skinhead, and a lady with glasses and crazy hair not entirely unlike my own.
What is more, this lady knew her stuff. She had multiple packages, wrapped up in those blue metallic mailing bags so favoured by eBay sellers. I know, because I had some myself, not so long ago. Obviously a professional.
Behind me, I am distracted by the sounds of sellotape. Someone has clearly not finished wrapping their item, and is finishing off the job in the queue behind me. Maybe they had to come to the post office to pick a suitably-sized jiffy bag off the shelves, and are wrapping things up while they wait. A serious breach of etiquette, not least because it's rude to use a jiffy bag before you have paid for it. The poor fool. But the sounds of sellotaping continue, on and on and on, such that I am forced to turn my head and casually regard the scene unfolding behind me.
It is a horror show. Someone appears to be trying to post a box of chocolates, by wrapping it in multiple layers of sellotape. Round and around, over and over, until it might be in a postable condition. This is amateur packing at best, and I am not impressed. Then I notice how the package is being labelled. The destination address is written on a piece of lined paper, also being furiously sellotaped to the box. Lined paper! Handwritten addresses, on LINED PAPER, being sellotaped around a box!
It is an INSULT. An insult to the King of Postage, directly behind me, in my Royal presence. A lesser man would have objected to such shoddy packaging behaviour, but I maintained my regal stateliness and instead turned back to regarding the crazy hair lady in front of me.
This lady transports her packages in a large striped laundry bag. Oh my. I've done this in my time as well. I look at the address labels on the packages. Handwritten, in a bold but clear handwriting style. Nice touch. And... wait! What is this! She has Royal Mail Recorded Delivery stickers ALREADY ON HER ITEMS! A challenger to the King of Postage! Urgently, I scan her packages for stamps... none there. I maintain superiority, but it is a close fight with a well-prepared foe.
As we shuffle closer to the counters, the lady steps to one side. "You can go ahead of me, I need to go to the window." Aha! A false move! There is no need to wait for the window if you have packages - the main counter can accomodate you as well. I graciously step ahead and make my way to the counter, where I hand over my multiple packages which already have stamps on.
I also have an item to send by Special Delivery, so to give the ladies a treat I decide that I will allow them to process this item as if I were a normal person who did not know how to pre-prepare an SD package. Shiny labels are retrieved from counter drawers, and affixed to my package. The address is checked and is found to be correct - as if there would be any doubt. It'll be £5.05 then, please, and the King is ready with exact change, King-style, because that is how we roll.
I wonder if the nice counter lady could even have been aware that she was not just serving the King of Postage, but also the mighty international Changemaster, lord of all small coins and the necessary 5p pieces which are such a large part of a £5.05 transaction.
Our business transacted, we exchanged mutal thanks and I ventured back out into the icy wind and snow.
"Hail to the King", I am sure I heard someone say, although it might have been lost in the hoo-hah and outrage when the crazy sellotape lady tried to post her box of chocolates.
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
Coming Soon
I've been a little negligent in not updating my blog recently. Anyone reading this would think I've been sick for weeks and weeks! Actually that's not too far from the truth, but I'm much better now (thank-you for asking) and I'll write lots more about that soon.
I've just been making my arrangements at work about the huge amount of holiday time that I have to use up before the end of the year. I've managed to transfer some days to next year, but I'll still need to spend most of December on holiday. Which should at least leave me with lots of time to write more blog entries. And who wouldn't be delighted by that?
Back soon with more. :)
I've just been making my arrangements at work about the huge amount of holiday time that I have to use up before the end of the year. I've managed to transfer some days to next year, but I'll still need to spend most of December on holiday. Which should at least leave me with lots of time to write more blog entries. And who wouldn't be delighted by that?
Back soon with more. :)
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