‘Postman Pat’ They Are Not!

G I don’t log in for a few days and when I come back the sign in page has changed.  I couldn’t work out how to sign in.  Funny how something new melts your brain and the thought of ‘scrolling down’ is just not something you think to do.

Well I don’t have a lot to say so I will post about the ‘postmen’ in my life.  I know, you can tell I’m really at the bottom of the barrel when I feel the need to post about the ‘postman’.  But its something I have been thinking about.  Maybe I should just get out more??

I think I must attract strange postmen.

Before we lived here we lived in a ‘country town’.  It wasn’t a really small town but it was still the kind of town that everyone seemed to know everyone else.

Our postman was definitely a sandwich short of a picnic.  You could just tell he wasn’t all there.  Looked a little funny, talked a little funny and always looked like he was about to fall off his motorbike.

Then there was the postman who delivered and big mail.  So boxes, parcels, anything that didn’t fit into our letter box.  He would knock at our front door and when I answered it he would get me to sign his little computer and then ask me what was on TV!  If it was the midday movie he would want to know what it was and if he had seen it he would proceed to tell me what was going to happen.  I found him rather strange.

Now that we have moved I now have to encounter two new postmen.  One in the morning for my letters and another in the afternoon if we have any large items.

My morning ‘letter’ postman is also odd.  He rides his motorbike and pops my letters in the box BUT if my front door is open he feels the need to ride right up to my front door and sit with his hand on his horn.  (His bike horn lol)

I hear some of your say ‘ well that’s nice, he brings your mail right to your front door’. 

Yes in theory its a nice idea.  But I have to be honest, having a motorbike nose to nose with your front door while a man in bright orange proceeds to honk over and over until you come running is just a little strange to me.

My ‘big parcel’ postman is nice.  But I still feel something is amiss.   We probably get something too big for our letterbox maybe 3 times a week.  He comes in the afternoon and as he gets out of his truck he yells ‘Australia Post’.  I’m sure the whole street can hear him.  I answer, say something simple like ‘how has your day been’ and he breaks into laughter like you have never heard.  He then tells me ALL about his day, then leaves, gets into his truck but sometimes returns to tell me a bit more of his story.

At times when I’m feeling really odd and like no one ‘gets me’ I often think about getting a job at the post-office.  Where the strangest person is sure to fit in.  🙂

Postman Pat

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