What cult have I joined now?

I first wake up at home to find a small CRT TV in my room on a smaller table. The TV is switched on but is on standby; though I doubt that my reception has improved.  My LCD TV is lying face down in the corner of my room. My bed has somehow also been rotated. I then sit up and try to work out why these things have happened but to no avail. Later on I'm in my old primary school hall where I'm sitting on the floor alongside other people spaced out in the room. Pete George hands me a mixture of books of raffle tickets and bingo cards; and it somehow falls to me to distribute them to the rest of the group. After handing them to five people I have completely run out and head over to a corner where I am now required to hand out sandwiches. There are four packs of sandwiches which is not enough; there is also a bucket of lollipops and a pile of make-up. I turn to the nearest person who is scantily clad in a pink bikini. I look down at my arms and discover I have Triad tattoos; then spend the rest of the dream trying to remember when I got the tattoos. I wake up for real and have to double-check that my arms are tat-free. Not the golden phizwizard of dreams; but not a trogglehumper either; just a very confusing one. 

The BFG

The BFG by Roald Dahl
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Dahl’s inventive take on where dreams come from is bound to raise a few chuckles in this very unique tale of faraway fantasy. Through the art of childish wonderment and conversation; a fascinating story of the history of giants and their existence is spun. As the unlikely pairing of fact and fiction get to know each other and compare their civilisations; it’s often unclear as to which side has the upper hand. The BFG’s grasp of the Wigglish language is very novel yet child-like with his grammar,; and the results are very entertaining. As both parties adapt to each other’s company, events take an exciting twist when both are put under pressure by the mighty Bloodbottler. Once Sophie has understood Giant Country, she makes plans to rid the giants once and for all with some special assistance from the Queen of England. It’s the stuff that dreams are made of!

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Morrisons is trying to kill me

I'm convinced that the scum of the earth shops at Morrisons. I arrive in the car park and have to stop short as there’s a trolley left next to a parked car that I've just pulled alongside. There's no clear pedestrian walkway to the entrance. All three of the cash machines are out of order. The light bulbs were hidden away from the main household section and were totally overpriced which was a third of what I had come in for. The contactless reader on the chip and pin machine doesn't work. There is a man lying on the floor with his head stuck inside the automated checkout; leaving a small gap for us to pass through. Outside; I sit on a bench to eat my sausage roll where a woman just dumps her trolley right in front of me. I hope it's her fags that she's left on the floor. On the way out my car is sprayed by the residue of the automatic car wash next door. Finally; on my exit off the roundabout; a large sack of something has been left lying on the curl carriageway for me to swerve and avoid. Sorry Morrisons; but if you're not responsible enough to run your site; it's not convenient for me.  

They sure don't make it easy

A marathon day of deliveries today. There were seven drops; and each one was difficult to locate and totally in a completely direction from the route. After a central drop in Stratford where the house was hidden behind a main street in a public car park; things only got worse. I had a very small road to do a nine point turn to turn the van around in Studley. I then had to look for a court in an area where all the buildings were numbered; with no descriptions on the doors whatsoever to distinguish the addresses. Then it was over to Evesham where a zero had fell off the number fifty; and as it was on a corner right next door to number seven on another road; that just made things complicated. A few roads later saw me in central Evesham where; although the house was numbered (I’d first gone up the hill before realising that the street numbers were labelled differently to every other street on the planet), I was told that the customer had actually moved address to just round the corner. I’d just about made my store delivery on time; then after a quick break it was off to a retail park unit that hadn’t actually opened yet. This was followed by a long trip back through Studley and into Redditch; where the apartment building was actually hidden from the one in front. My final delivery of the day was to a retirement complex; where the road given was actually a footpath where I had to park the van on the main road and walk up then round to find the entrance. Make it easy they don’t.

Evening Drinks

After an evening curry with my family; my Aunt insisted on us coming inside her house to join her in a nightcap. She is not the best of hosts; for as soon as we were shown in; it was not clear whether it was the lounge; the kitchen or the back garden that we should be in to be received. It was eventually decided that the back garden would suffice; though I left my cardigan in the kitchen to be sure. We were then asked what would we like to drink. I asked for a beer; but she didn't have any. I asked what did she have and she counter-asked; ‘What do you want?’ Now I don't expect her to keep a fully stocked bar; but she could have given me some options. ‘Have you got any rum?’ ‘No.’ ‘Have you got any vodka?’ ‘No’. In the end I settled for a coffee; which I made into an Irish coffee once it was discovered there was Ballyrod alongside rum punch; brandy; a snowball and some whiskey. Now I never would've guessed that!

Man in a Van

My second delivery was in a much more residential area. When I arrived; the only place that I saw fit to park was by mounting the kerb to drive along the green do that the rear door of the van was in line with the pavement. I found the house OK; it was a walk to the front door as it wasn't in line with the road. I returned to the van and started the first part of a triple return journey; since there were three flat pack items. I started with the smallest one, then carried it over and knocked on the door. After a short wait there was no answer; and a quick glimpse on the address label told me that I had the wrong house number; I was looking at the drop number on the device rather than the label on the invoice. Fortunately no-one had answered so I had time to walk onto the correct house. This time a lady in a dressing gown opened the door and explained that she'd only just got up; so it was a good thing I waited over in Redditch. After delivering the second part I forgot to lie it down in the hallway; which made the item a bit unstable. When all was delivered and I was on my way back in the  van to base; I had a little old lady in a shop mobility scooter to negotiate with; who forced me onto the other side of the road as she came back from the shops. I then had a blind right turning at a crossroads owing to the angle that I came out of. I'm sure that this is the first of many adventures as a white van man. 

A (partially) successful first attempt!

After fourteen months of waiting; I finally got to do my first run of home deliveries. It was pot luck as I downloaded my route; but after forgetting to pack advice cards into the packages (which turned out that we didn't have anyway); I set off in my van; only to pull up into a lay by ten minutes later as I forgot to tell the customer that I was en route. I found the road with no problems; but when it came to finding the house; the sat-nav said that it was another mile down the road away from the bungalows. As I got nearer a quad bike pulled out behind me; so I carried on and pulled onto a track so that he could carry on allowing me to turn round. However; he carried on down the track and asked me to wind down the window. Only then did I realise that he had a rifle on his back! I told him where I was going and he said to just press the button and carried on his way. So the gates opened and off I walked down the driveway with the packages; leaving the van by the road. After meeting the anxious Hooch-like mongrel, I discovered that I had the right address but the wrong  customer.  Luckily the right customer works for the gentleman; so he took in the packages for me. He explained that the addressee actually lived in a cabin down in the woods. Perhaps I should have driven into the driveway; but there would have been more at stake in turning the van around.