Sunday, April 24, 2011

Ode to a Postman


I underappreciate my postman, I really do. His name is Mick* and he wouldn't be a great conversationalist, but he's a lovely man. I'm a bit of a freebie hound, and I do a lot of online buying (I buy all my craft & cross stitch supplies, a lot of clothes & shoes, some make-up, and all my books online) so there's usually a few deliveries for me during the week. I remember one Friday, I had gone to pick my son up early from school, and arrived home at about 1:30pm. I saw the post van coming back in the road, and it was our trusty postman - he had a packet for me, had gotten no response earlier in the day, so called back in at the end of his round in case I'd be stuck for whatever was in the packet over the weekend (I wasn't, it was the monster spray I reviewed a while back). It's nice to see little kind deeds like that every once in a while - it makes a change to the recent "feck you, I'm alright" attitude that seems to have swept this once-friendly country.

I have a bit of "sitting guilt" - I feel guilty if I'm sitting at the table when I feel I should be up and about. I also feel really weird if I'm inside the house and the postman arrives - I know that there's a letterbox, so there's really no reason for me to go outside and meet the postman every day, and I'm aware that I'm starting to sound crazier by the second, but I always go out to meet him. That man has seen me in every possible state - excited, because something's arrived; nervous, because I'm expecting a bill; disappointed, because something hasn't arrived; baffled, when I've gotten something and I've no idea what it is.



My postman has also seen me in every conceivable style of dress - from sweaty, red-faced and covered in dirt after gardening; done up to the nines with a full face of make-up (including false lashes) when I've been trying on clothes for occasions; or bleary-eyed and still in pajamas.

The postman can be an important part of life in the rural community - I know a couple of elderly people who feel genuinely disappointed if there's no mail for them on any given day, and they miss that little chat. It's funny how someone can be a constant in your life without you really knowing much about them - from the postman, to the bank teller you always try and go to, the local butcher, or the friendliest of the girls at the supermarket checkout.

So, I'll keep going out to meet him, say hello, and chat about the weather. And try not to touch his hand while I'm taking the letters from him (seriously, weirdly awkward). And I'll keep giving him a card for him and his family at Christmas. It's my way of letting him know that I appreciate what he does - I think that kind of job can sometimes be thankless and/or taken for granted. Also, he's bringing me this next week:

Teatro Dress. Image: http://www.littlewoods.ie/
*Not his real name. But I thought it was Mick for aaaages. And called him that. And he didn't correct me.

S xx

2 comments:

  1. I used to have the most lovely post woman deliver to me at home in Italy. She'd deliver by scooter or bycicle so she wouldn't carry packets....other than for me!!!! if nobody was in,, she'd call in to our lovely neighboors and leave the parcel with them. Otherwise I had to go to the depo myself to get my stuff.

    Also recently delivery has changed here in Dublin. We used to have the postman just leave a notice in the door to tell me I had a parcel waiting, now instead the post man delivers the post AND packages....with a willy bin?! And he always rings 3 or 4 times to make sure we hear him if we're in.

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  2. What is a willy bin!!!!! I have hilarious mental images :) That's decent of him, nothing worse than getting a horrible postman, we had a horrible one for a while when we were living in town and I used to dread going out to him if he had a packet :(

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