The plastic water container on my condenser had a big crack in it so I asked for another one and it came today...in a nice little box. I like boxes actually.
It was designed in Germany...made in Costa Rica...under licence from somewhere or other in the U.S.A. I couldn't read that part properly because someone had scribbled over it. I know we need World Trade, but isn't that awfully complicated for a plastic beaker with plastic tube in the middle...
Tommy, the postman, was well wrapped up in his bobble hat and various scarves tied round his neck...if we have a package he can't squeeze into the letter box, he hammers on the door and leaves it on the step...in the summer we leave the bedroom window open and he drops whatever doesn't fit through the window...sometimes it'll land on the floor...other times it manages to stay on the windowsill.
He doesn't ever go to Marians cottage windows though 'cos she has Otto...he's a Rottweiler as big as the average sized sheep and if you want to visit you have to 'phone first so she or Pat can shut him in the bathroom...seems daft to have a dog like that...they have an assortment of small dogs as well.
Next door at Breeges he puts the post through the bathroom window where it falls into the hand-basin then at Wendy's he can use the post box or the open kitchen window...but he has to run the gauntlet of Nancy who loves to bite the wheels of moving vehicle's...she's taught Tilly to do that as well, so now there are the two of them to dodge...
Henry has an old bread bin outside his gate so that's quite straight forward and that nasty snappy little creature with big googly eyes is usually in the cottage...horrible little dog it is...I once ran over it's foot when I was cycling down the lane.
Sammy and Bruce, who live next door to us on the other side bark a bit, but Marie has a proper sort of a post box as well and I don't know what happens if she has a package...she isn't a woman to leave a window open, not after Hubert narrowly avoided getting shot by an irate Traveller in the hospital car park...
That only leaves Jonny and then his Mum and Dad who live next door to him...don't know how Tommy gets on there...they don't have biting dogs for him to avoid anyway. Honora, that's Jonny's Mum...she once told me she was getting far too old to make jam seeing as how she was in her early fifties...I thought that was funny...probably because I had a basket full of Blackberries and there was me in my early sixties...
Forgot Lorna... she has an itty-bitty little dog who sits about and gets fat...Tommy leaves her parcels and packages in her porch 'cos she has a posh house...with a proper porch.
I can never understand what Tommy says you know...he could be saying World War Three has started and I'd smile happily and say that's nice...but he turns up some time during the morning no matter what the weather...always cheerful and willing to pass the time of day...
Perhaps Stealing Is Sometimes Good...
A Dog at my House
Himself in the bush 
