This week's Sorry

Goes to Royal Mail. Last Thursday they delivered a package, but I wasn't in. Who knows why? They took it away again and left the standard note- too large for letter box; collect at Mallusk.

Well, obviously we've been busy with exciting things. I go to Mallusk on Wednesday. It's cold up on that hill! I wait and wait and wait for nice, young man to look in package room. It's not there. He looks in other package room. Not there either. I remain calm. I tell him it is a Jamie Oliver cookbook ordered as part of a wedding present. Sympathetic noises. Ring back tomorow or Friday.

I ring today. Same nice, young man. No package has turned up. Given number to ring. Automatated answer machine. Only result will be claim form sent out for compensation. Mags rings nice, young man back. Lengthy, frank and open discussion on how hard it would be to get guys further up hill to look under bench in the van. Passed on- which transpires to mean note on yellow sticky on office window for next shift. None of whom work further up hill with vans. We discuss emotive nature of missing wedding present.

Drive PC to town. PC answers Mags's mobile. Nice, young man has found missing package. Nice, young man has taken on mission of salvaging wedding present on feeling the shame of no-one being available to check under bench in van.

And if Margaret wants to come up and collect the Kelloggs free cereal bowl that her children collected vouchers for all summer then it's here at the desk for her now...