A Funny Thing Happened on my Delivery Round

In Pebbleditch we have a quarterly magazine, The Pebbleditch Parish Post or PPP. I was once the Editor of this worthy publication, and still feel guilty about giving up the job, thus passing the onerous duty to another poor citizen. In fact I have narrowly avoided offering to take it back on more than one occasion.

I do still carry out my delivery duties though, and thus it was that I found myself trudging about the village, meeting villagers at doors and chatting more than I should considering the fact that I was on a tight schedule. My mission was mainly delivery, and partially to enlist support for my ‘Sensible Parking Campaign’ at school pick-up times. Much of the conversation dwelt on inconsiderate parents parking across bus stops, double parking and creating narrow chicanes thus blocking the way for an ambulance recently for a reported 10 minutes.

I turned into a small private road and with all this on my mind, passed the pedestrian entrance to one house and had to go up the driveway and cross their living room windows to get to their front door. I don’t like doing this, it is an unnecessary invasion of privacy, and I felt a little guilty. Not enough to go back down the road and use the correct gate though.

Having slotted a magazine into the letter box of the double entry house I continued to the end of the road, and having lightened my load in a further two houses, was returning past the house when a man of senior years, but by no means elderly, came tripping down the drive in my direction wearing glasses and slippers and with this hand raised to attract my attention.

Bugger I thought, I’m going to have to apologise for my trespass.

I stopped to wait for the gentleman to reach me, and when he arrived, a friendly expression on his face, he simply stared at me, smiling.

I waited, with an enquiring expression, but for several seconds he simply searched my face as if waiting for an answer to a question not posed.

‘What?’ I was moved to enquire in a humorous but baffled voice, and widened my lips further to take the sting from my less than diplomatic outburst.

‘Hello,’ the man replied, ‘how are you?’ He was now shuffling his feet and looked decidedly embarrassed.

I grinned at him.

‘Did you think I was somebody else?’

He nodded his head.

‘Should have gone to Spec Savers.’ I chortled, and continued on my way with a lighter step.

A confused man I met
Bearded Man Wearing Spectacles, Jean Dubuffet ,(French, Le Havre 1901-1985 Paris), with thanks to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. (click picture to follow link)

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