Postie

When I'm not working or blipping, I'm a postman.
James asked me to drop his post in during the week - for some reason, he keeps quoting our Northhampton address when he buys stuff like bits of computers of electricity or loans. Over time his post mounts up, and even with the best will in the world, we sometimes forget to forward his post on to his student accomodation. In fact I tell a lie - we've never forwarded his post, on account of the fact that we don't actually know his address. Duh. I know what the house looks like, but I can't remember the house number. Or the name of the road come to that. But I do know it's in Leeds.
So I couldn't really complain about leaving work in Manchester and dragging myself across the Pennines to deliver his mail in person. I did get a cup of tea and a chat out of it though. He was surprised that I made the trip and couldn't understand why I didn't just pop it all in a huge envelope and post it to him. I couldn't understand why he just didn't tell his correspondents where he lived so that he could cut out the middle-man (me).
I departed feeling misunderstood, but made a mental note of the road and the house number.

I seem to have forgotten it now though - but I do know it's in Leeds.


Edit
This has been back loaded on 19th December. Flick is feeling slightly better, but her recovery wasn't helped by spending over 45 minutes trying to park the car in the hospital - she had felt well enough to get out of the house on her own to visit Abigail. Abigail had a very bad night in severe pain where she thought the baby was going to be born. Thankfully it stayed in, but as I write this, she is tired, bored and fed-up.