I was listening to the coverage of the postal strike yesterday on Radio Four while cooking supper for the kids.  (Haddock fishcakes, broccoli soup, with zucchini fritters… And yes, they turned their noses up at it).  I haven’t been following it that closely but the postman speaking sounded so earnestly disappointed as he spoke of dark forces at work trying to prevent crisis resolution, that it made me feel sad that such a fabulous service seems to be slowly, painfully on its way out.

Then there was an interview with a postie as he trudged around delivering mail nobody wants, and the Radio Four interviewer asked things like, “And is your bag heavy?” to which he replied, “Not too bad, really” and I thought to myself they have trollies these days don’t they?  Our’s does.

FLASHBACK!  To my 16th Christmas and my first proper holiday job, working at the Post Office in Maidstone.  I told my kids this the other day and they couldn’t believe it, then when they realised I was being serious bombarded me with a thousand questions.

They had huge, cumbersome sacks in those days, bulging with Christmas cards.  I was skinny back then, goodness knows how I managed.  Because I was one of the last ones to sign up I got all the duff routes - yes, there is a route pecking order - the long country lanes with enormous houses at the end of them.  And it was snowing constantly!  You got dropped off in a van and left to get on with it.  Obviously there were no mobile phones to keep you company, this being the Dark Ages, but I had a Sanyo Walkman (Sony was too expensive) with my sister’s tape on a loop - Chris Rea.  YES!!! CHRIS REA!

I didn’t even get any tips.