Stand and deliver!
Stand and deliver!

November 13, 2012

Dear Friends

It is common knowledge, hereabouts, that the manse door is always open to those in need and the unfortunate tale I am about to tell (once again at my expense) is a case in point.

Perhaps I should add a hasty caveat to the misguided notion of ‘open all hours’  by saying that following our ritual nightly mug of Horlicks (I trust that it is acceptable to promote one particular brand over another upon these airwaves) my good lady wife and I are often as not tucked up in bed by 9.30pm and thus assuredly not at liberty to take ‘callers’ from thence on.

That we should therefore be disturbed from our slumbers at 9.48pm precisely, (as noted by our SpongeBob SquarePants digital alarm clock – I  have not quite mastered the automated machines at the local Argos outlet and this was this the fruit of my ‘punching in’ an erroneous product code) by an unremitting loud rapping on our front door, was most irritating indeed.

On opening the door I was confronted by a rather angry female from Fedex, or so I believed. Not only was I rather taken aback by the late hour of her delivery (not that we were expecting anything, unless of course the good people at Argos had seen see fit to kindly rectify my error and supply me with the rather more conservative model of alarm clock that I had originally intended to purchase) but I quickly reasoned to myself that it was I who should be a little ’angsty’ about this doorstep scenario and not her.

My demand that she proffer some form of ‘ID’ appeared to simply make matters worse.

To boot, she did not seem to wielding anything that looked vaguely parcel-like in the least. Not that I think that anything she had been carrying would have survived the rigours of her fiercely clenched fist which looked uncomfortably primed for action.
It was only when I enquired as to what Fedex were doing at the manse at this late hour that things began to become a tad clearer.

It would seem that her fiance (Fred) had recently ‘got religion’ (or so she put it) after attending one of our popular ‘Pasta ‘n’ Praise’ evenings. Because of her unwillingness to respond to his entreaties to ’turn or burn’ (I am a little unclear where he picked up this unhelpful jargon) he felt duty bound to end their engagement forthwith. That their wedding was but two weeks away was the reason for Fred’s ex wedging open the front door of the manse and refusing to leave until her ire had been fully satisfied.

I fear that my offer of a complimentary ticket to next Monday’s next ’Pasta ‘n’ Praise’ evening by way of compensation (we normally charge £1.50 I’ll have you know) did little to appease her nor my attempt to lighten things with a witty retort about her taking the UPS with the downs (UPS being the arch rival I believe of the aforementioned Fedex).

Onward and upward