Harp Notes

Parcels and Delivery

November 2004

After such an incredibly productive October, I felt ready for a rest in November! With the majority of the shellac-ing done, it was time to contact Vicky again and arrange delivery of the soundboard. As a trip up to Lancashire wasn't a possibility for me, we decided to use the Royal Mail. Annie had arrived safely by Parcel Post before and there seemed no reason to suspect that she wouldn't do the same again. T brought home a couple of huge cardboard boxes and I recycled loads of bubble wrap. Between us, we produced a made-to-measure container that was snug and protective - perfect for the long journey up-country!

Now, because it was such a large package I took it straight to the local sorting office, rationalising that there would be scales large enough to weigh the big box, and also that it would be taken there before travelling any further anyway. The postal worker seemed a little uncertain as to how to deal with me, but assured me that he could accept my parcel. I said that it didn't need to be delivered urgently, but that I needed extra insurance to cover the contents and a signature upon receipt. After some checking and re-checking of paper work, I left my wrapped soundboard with the sorting office and went home.

In the mean time, I began to wax the arch and pillar. Once again I applied the first coat, reapplied the next one an hour later, and then waited over night before applying the final one. I found it all wonderfully meditative and really satisfying. By the end of the week, the whole curve positively glowed!

About this time, I realised that I hadn't heard from Vicky so I quickly enquired how the whole thing was going. Imagine my horror when I learnt that she didn't have the soundboard! Okay, lots of deep breaths were made before trying to access the Royal Mail's website to use the identifying number to track my package. Except that it wouldn't accept the number.

More irritated words were muttered whilst I then rang the help line quoted on the website. In fact I rang it several times - when I eventually got through I had to put up with that dreadful automated voice activated system, which once again wouldn't accept the number.

My little tip when using such things is this ~ when it offers the standard choice of "Press 1 for wotsit . . . " and "Press 2 for thingy . . . ", don't press anything at all. I used to live in a rented house that had a lovely old type of telephone which couldn't actually activate those automated systems. By default, I was always put through to an operator i.e. a real human being. So when I started having problems with the Royal Mail's system, I merely waited until I got through to a person. Hurrah!!

Once again I tried the identifying number ~ except that this time I was told I had only been given a 'receipt of posting' number and that it could not be used for tracking at all. The 'signature upon delivery' that I had asked for had also been ignored and the only thing I had actually been given was the extra insurance. When I enquired how I was going to prove any claim, I was told that the Royal Mail would just have to accept my word for it!

I began to allow myself to panic just ever so slightly at this point. However, Vicky and I decided to give the package 7 working days to arrive before giving in to righteous indignation.

On the last appointed day, Vicky waited with baited breath at her house. She waited all morning, finally leaving the house very briefly in the early afternoon ~ only to return to one of those annoying 'You were out when I called' messages from the postman. Strangely it gave the time of mid-morning when both Vicky and her mother were in the house and garden respectively ~ both very able to see and hear said postie at the door had he been there. None the less, Vicky was hopeful that it was my package. However she had to wait until the following morning to collect it from her local sorting office due to the alleged van allegedly returning to the depot.

The next day there was indeed a large cardboard-wrapped parcel sitting there for her. But curiously the sorting office had had that particular package awaiting collection for 4 days . . . Vicky mentioned the reliability of her postie or rather lack of, to the staff at the depot. I gather that Vicky's particular postal person had not delivered items before, merely taking them to (or possibly even just leaving them at) the sorting office. If that is the case, why was it necessary to leave it several days before informing Vicky? I just don't understand - but at least my heart rate has returned to normal now . . .

I think the moral of this particular story for me is: Always go to the Post Office ~ your local sorting office just cannot handle anything other than very basic enquiries. Oh, and get to know your Postie really well!