Memories

I drove into Welshpool today. Something I don't do very often. On the way I passed the home of an ex-colleague of mine and saw him in his front garden doing some tidying up.

I stopped and went back to have a chat only to find him resplendent in his 'Milk Marque' polo shirt and trousers.

So what, I hear you say. It's just that these were issued to us as drivers back in 1994 when the old Milk Marketing Board was disbanded.

The best thing for doing the garden in, he said. Mind you, I still wear my old coat when walking the dogs in the winter.

It was only supposed to be a flying visit to collect a prescription from the doctor, go to the bank and then get a few things for Mrs DD from the supermarket. But stopping to chat to Keith set the tone for the morning.

Three old colleagues, one farmer and my sister-in-law later, I finally managed to get to the supermarket only to get stuck in a long queue - always the longest - drop a full carton of yoghurt by the till and then find I had the wrong bit of the car park ticket so I could not claim my refund. Typical. I had to go back to the car, swap the ticket for the one in the car and then bring the correct bit in to the 'Customer Help Desk.' All for 50p! Not likely! Would it not be better to help this customer by just giving him his refund anyway. What's the difference? This customer will not be going back soon!

And things did not improve when I got home. But that's another story for another day.

And while I am on the subject, the total for car parking so far this year is £50.40. Scandalous!

Good job it's bedtime. Goodnight.