Mo Blog

Tuesday, 8 December 2009


The great postal saga continues, laying down another mystery or mysteries.

As it stands, im running up a list of mad doubts about our stairwell. Ive only seen a few spectres in the staircase so far and whatever living that does go on in the 11 other flats, only seems to present itself at night. Which leaves the day. And during the day the post arrives-NO. The only time i get post is when im already at home. What happens when im out? No post. Its so simple.
And the post doesn't announce itself with the curious papyral crumple that it does for most households. Certainly not. For me it starts with the buzzer. The old buzzer, leant from a disused prison perhaps, that was designed to catch me by surprise no matter what im doing. If I am waiting for it, staring down the door, anticipating....willing, you can be sure that I will  backpedal with fright into the shoe rack sending a mouthful of tea all down my front. What is odd about the buzzer?
Well the other flats have similar boat horn doorbells, and I have yet to hear one go off. In the silence of the night I have yet to hear one. So who gets buzzed to let in the postman?

Me. Everytime. I answer the door phone, "Postman. and in he comes, with his wide-eyed, pleasantaries, oblivious to his single mindedness.

So recently he brought me a package, more like a notice actually. It said:

"The sardine size of your post box will only accept about 18% of your post. Sucker"

Or something, and so began the very frequent chase to get things redirected before the weekend and without event. What had I ordered? What could be so big? Could it be the camera remote? Surely they couldnt have packaged it so large?

And so expecting something totally random and joyously large when i finally collected the package...

Thanks a million. Biggest box ever.

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