In which a Postman encounters the Northern Ireland Protocol

Well, you too might fancy a little glass of something had you been packaged up and posted all over everywhere - Jolly the Postman has been on a Grand Tour of the Western World, much in the style of that wonderful Wind in the Willows adventure. All from the creative genius loving and lovely mind of Pom Pom, naturally. He arrived a while ago here in the North of Ireland/Northern Ireland (depending on your political ideology) after being in

Scotland with Anne after being in

Norfolk, England with Angela after being in

North Carolina with MK after being in

Indiana with Heather after being in

Minnesota  with Lisa after being

sent off on his jolly Jolly way by Pom Pom in Denver.

Poor Jolly thought he was on an exciting adventure to see a bit more of the world than he usually experiences on his daily delivery route. And yes, on the way he has been rather hoping to meet a One True Love, someone with whom he can share his jolly life, someone to whom he can come home after a long day trudging up lanes and down avenues and carrying his postbag under sun, shine, snow and storm.

Then he tried to travel to Northern Ireland!

You will all have heard of Brexit, and may well be aware that its consequences have led to all sorts of complications and calamities, including at the minute, a centuries old return to hostilities between England and France. (Officially Britain and France, and this time to do with fishing rights.) Jolly has been following the news with great insight, as only someone who delivers hundreds of newspapers and journals a year could do. Here in the north of my island we have the added difficulties of The Protocol. Everything is being blamed on The Protocol: food shortages in shops, refusals to deliver things across the Irish Sea (poo to John Lewis and Marks and Spencer). You can imagine how cross our Jolly Postman has been at such rudeness. Thankfully he fought his way through all sorts of red tape and forms and delays at ports and made it through!

Then he hit a second delay! Having survived the complexities of Northern Irish politics, he realised with barely concealed horror that he has come to a home without any prowess in opening letters. With great grace and patience he has been sifting his way through mounds of paperwork. Phew! By the time that was all sorted, it was Hallowe'en - although Jolly has enjoyed reading all about Irish traditions of Samhain.

'While the history of Halloween may be shrouded in the mists of time, at its heart it is a move to the dark half of the year. As the leaves are lost and land becomes covered in glimmering frosts, there's a pleasant melancholy to be found in making the most of shorter days, like walking through sunset before the evening chill creeps in. Halloween is essentially a celebration of nature, and how coast and countryside can sustain us. Its Celtic origins harp back to a time when people were dependent on the land. To protect the bounty of the harvest season, they carved jack-o'-lanterns and dressed in costume to ward off evil spirits, which they believed roamed more freely at the start of the dark half of the year. The Púca was one such feared spirit. the mischievous shape shifter apparently often took the form of a goat.' National Trust NI

Now, we don't really go for a spooky, ghoulish 31st October here, and Jolly seemed happy enough with that. He seems a wholesome bloke. We try to be a household of God-fearing folk so it's always just about the pumpkins in my home, my favourite US import! (Although I do also have covetous thoughts of US porches too, as Pom Pom and MK can well confirm.) We gather here to celebrate Autumn and harvest and God's great provision and love. So we've been a bit too busy for wife hunting just yet. I have a few candidates in mind though - and Jolly will be meeting them this week. I do wonder if his head is swirling a bit with all the memories of lovely ladies encountered thus far. Which is actually what I have been telling him. Thus far, Jolly, thus far has the Lord helped us.