literally another aussie in london

the post office misery continues

I’ve already had some problems with Post Offices.

But with my book out (how many copies have you bought?) I have been up at the post office almost daily getting copies to people who helped, my Australian distributors, and media outlets.

So now I have more horror stories.

Well not horror stories, I haven’t been slashed by a masked assailant after running up the stairs and trying to fight them off by throwing ceramic jugs.

Just shit things.

The first was when a bunch of police were stopping random cars, there were about 7 cops there, and some guy had mouthed off to the cops, even though he wasn’t in a car. So they searched him, and threatened to haul him in and etc. Just another day on Brixton Rd.

You might say, what has this to do with the Post office, well once this fucktard was finished being molested by the police, where does he end up, behind me in the fucken line, whining about racist cops, and talking so close to me I can feel his tongue on my ear.

It’s a hot and sticky day too, and I’ve been walking around with 15 books in my bag, and the people up at the counters are taking forever.

And this fucking guy won’t shut the fuck up, eventually I get sick of it, and I turn around so he and I are millimetres from kissing, he gets the hint and shuts up leaving my ear to dry in peace.

The next day I was back, and as I took my books out of my bag, my phone rang, I saw it was from Australia so I answered it, while trying to get things out of my bag and take my jacket off.

I start talking to my mate and I get the tap on the shoulder from some other customer who directs my attention to a man behind the counter, who is yelling, jumping up and down and hitting the window. Apparently I have committed the biggest sin you can in the post office, talking on the phone, and I am kicked out. Kicked out, apparently you can talk into someones ear, or smell like some shit all over you, but answering a phone is one step too far.

Two days later I wander back to the same Post Office at 1 in the PM, and the post office is shut, again. This time it is not a Wednesday, it is a Thursday, and without warning, or posted hours in the window they have just shut the fucker down. I had to walk FIFTEEN MINUTES to the next one, which was in the direction I was heading anyway, but still, it’s the potential inconvenience that counts.

This my friends is the Post Office they send you to in hell.

If it didn’t require effort and planning I would burn the fucker down.

May 31, 2009 Posted by Jrod | living in london | post offices | 4 Comments

Casual Post Offices

Being that my knee is made of cheese at the moment, I need to economise my movements.

Something I have been struggling to do of recent times with drinking and going to the cricket.

A couple of Wednesdays back I had to do some errands, and this was my first real trip out to do things.

It all started well, I got some fresh food, and put everything in my backpack and made my way to the post office.

The post office nearest the shops is a corner shop slash post office.

When I got there it said it was shut.

The sign actually said “The Post Office is Closed Until…”  Nice cryptic helpful sign.

I had to make the decision, do I walk down the road, catch a bus, then walk to the other post office, before walking home, or just go straight home.

My knee was sore, but the thought of having another outing was too much for me, so I made my way to the other post office.

I had to wait for ages to get a bus, and the one I got on was crowded and the dude behind me didn’t understand the concept of washing, but eventually I got myself to the Post Office.

That fucker was closed as well, and not just closed, but it had battened down hatches, apparently a post office on Brixton Road needs the sort of protection that could stop rioting.

Pissed off, I staggered home, angry that I would have to go to the post office again and that my knee was now pretty damn sore.

When talking to the guide later on, and moaning about my bad luck, I was informed that on Wednesday the post officers around London close early.

Bullshit, where am I living here, Bumfuch Idaho?

This is London; the Post offices should never close.

Not on Wednesday afternoon, not on the weekend, not ever.

It wouldn’t surprise me if Wednesday afternoon sees a rise in crime in London.

I know it almost made me throw a crutch.

May 13, 2009 Posted by Jrod | living in london | post offices | 1 Comment