I got off to a bad start by turning the wrong way out of the flats, having forgotten I needed to go to the bank. But I remembered before I was off our little backwater of a neighbourhood, so just had to turn right instead of left down the road to get back on the right track
I found a place to park just up the hill from the bank, directly opposite a place the Dutch GF and I lived in twenty-five years ago and more, so I was able to get a bit of nostalgia in as well as dealing with the cheque
Then back out of Spinney Hill via a circuitous route, because the road network around there was deliberately made very complicated to deter kerbcrawlers when it was adjacent to a red light area back in the 1970s and 1980s, and has never been fixed. This took me past or near various places I used to live even longer ago - back when the ladies of the night were still all over the place, in fact, such areas being the standard spots for students to rent rundown properties in those days. I don't think today's helicopter parents would be very happy with Jocasta or Jocelyn living in such districts now
Onwards then to Sainsbury's, past the old place. I may be wrong, but I think whoever's living there has managed to break a second window. I don't know what they're playing at; I lived there for eighteen years without breaking any, and to judge from the aged appearance of the panes, so had everybody else who'd lived there since it was build around 1880
I ended up popping into M&S as well, and generally did OK in terms of getting the shopping. Most importantly, perhaps, I got myself a tin of Quality Street as required by law at this time of year
I'd forgotten, though, that the meat tends to have short use-by dates at this time of week. I assume they aim to get stocked up on Thursday and Friday ahead of the weekend crowd, so Wednesday is the time when they're trying to flog off the last of the week before's batches
Anyway, onwards from there to the parcel company depot. This is out on an industrial estate, not too far from the huge Walker's Crisps factory, and they clearly don't expect many visitors. When I entered the "reception area" there was another chap already waiting, a typical Leicester lad off the estates I reckon, who'd already tried to rouse them by following the printed instructions concerning calling some extension, or trying a bell on the wall. Nothing happened so after a few minutes he rang again, and this time someone answered! They told him to ring the bell on the wall. We waited another five minutes or so, with the occasional warehouse worker spotting us through the small glass window of the "No Admittance" door behind the counter and hastily looking away, and the local lad was just trying the phone again when a chap finally appeared, full of apologies for the delay. The lad very politely told me I could go first even though he was already there when I arrived, and the bloke managed to find my parcel eventually, so I was good to go. The warehouse chap even offered to carry it out to the car for me and, though I assured him I could manage, insisted on rushing out from behind the counter to get the door for me. So it took a while, but at least everybody displayed excellent manners
And so home, where I was relieved to discover none of the neighbours had nicked my favoured parking spot near the front door, meaning I didn't have to carry everything too far
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