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Wisteria, Posteria and the Rambling Rector

The rain returned last night and Nell and I were drizzled on this morning when we went for our walk BUT what could be a more cheering sight when the weather is dull than this:


Yes, once again the wisteria has put on a fine show for us! It smells delicious, too. The wagtails have been wise in their chosen nesting site this year. (And talking to my neighbour a few days ago, she reported that a second pair of wagtails have built a nest up the other end of the wisteria, too!)



The wisteria is now branching outwards away from the house and it’s possible to stand beneath it and not get wet in the rain. I’ve thought about installing a pergola across from the house to the laundry for it to twirl itself around but that would mean the swallows wouldn’t be able to access their nest. And that would be very sad. Mummy Swallow is now sitting on five eggs, so we should have some babies in the first week of June. 

Yesterday, Andy built a mini pergola for the Rambling Rector to, well, ramble around. I tried to train the branches against the hedge but it wants to grow away from the hedge so its wishes were duly noted and a big ol’ frame is now in situ. Andy was worried it would look a bit of an eyesore but I have complete faith that the Rambling Rector will have it smothered within two years, such is the rate of growth it’s exerting.

Also yesterday, I went to the Post Office for the first time in four years as I had a birthday present and card to post. Usually, Andy would print off a postage label at home and it could go straight in the letterbox (or be collected by the postman) but because he was busy with garden structure building, I thought I won’t disturb him, I’ll deal with it myself. Besides, I wanted to go into town for other errands. 

Well, based on the experience, it will likely be another four years at least before I make a return visit. The Post Office is being run by the same lady, but now it appears she has roped in her apathetic son to help man the counter. My advice to her would be that he isn’t cut out for customer service and it would be best to re-install him in his computer gaming chair from whence he most likely came. 

He called me forth from the queue, and then proceeded to continue counting out a great wodge of cash before securing it with an elastic band. I had already put my parcel on the scales - I knew it would cost £3.19 to send because I’d already checked at home using the Royal Mail website. The inattentive, no eye contact ‘assistant’ did a bit of tapping around on his computer screen. The person behind me in the queue had already been called to the other window being manned by the lady who runs the Post Office. I was still waiting. I started drumming my fingers on the counter because I am becoming increasingly crabby and impatient with such things.

The ‘assistant’ indicated, by waving his hand, that I should pass the parcel from the scales through the window to him. He took it, printed off a label, slapped it on the parcel and threw the parcel into the collection bin behind him. Not once did he speak. Then…

‘£3.69,’ he said. I took my time counting out the exact amount from the change in my purse. Apparently, going into the Post Office for personal service costs you 50p extra for the privilege. Next time, I’ll attend the Post Office Chez Damson Cottage and give Andy a 50p tip for his quick, cheerful and efficient manner.

Sheesh…


Comments

Anonymous said…
Maddening! Work is mad too at the moment, hence only short burst of commenting.
This too shall pass.
KJ
15 May 2024 at 05:28
Denise said…
Your comments are always appreciated, KJ. I understand x
15 May 2024 at 07:10
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