Postman Jack

Postman Jack, postman Jack, postman very tired, has a bad back and has definitely not received a cat in return for labour services for the post office. And let’s not even talk about the fact that the BBC have shown no interest in developing my short lived career at the post office into some kind of puppet/animated adventure for children. To be fair, I am not in fact a postman, but am working in a sorting office during the busy Christmas period for about 3 weeks. Sounds glamorous doesn’t it? Wrong.

It is the kind of job that is fascinating for approximately an hour as you learn how the post is actually sorted, sort some yourself and then push a big trolley of parcels. After that you want to kill yourself and those around you.

First off were some easy jobs to get you into the swing of things. I was put on ‘box organising’. It did not go well.


Luckily, a health and safety office was on hand to inform me that I could simply remove my hands from the box, which would free them to remove the box from my head. This calmed me down as can be seen.


I kid of course, this is a photo from an unrelated incident in which I supposed to be helping my sister to move house, and instead trapped myself inside a box.

Anyway, I have a lot of ‘thinking’ time whilst there, which gives me time to calculate things like the fact that I now walk an average of 18 miles a day, pushing a trolley full of amazon parcels weighing 150kg. Given how I despise physical exertion of any kind, I’m sure you can understand how this perturbs me. I feel almost healthy. Well, given the exertion seems to give me heart palpitations, healthy might be rather a strong word. ‘Active’ may be more appropriate.

On the upside, I have only had an amazon parcel thrown at my face by a fellow employee once. I would argue that that is still one time too many, but I suppose I should take my victories wherever I can find them.

‘Didn’t you just do a cordon bleu diploma’ I hear you ask. Very true, but unfortunately, receiving one does not give me money, whereas a Christmas job does. On the upside, as I work 6am -2pm, the job does give me plenty of time to sort out what I do want to do come January , as much to my grandma’s disbelief I do have a few promising leads/offers (more on this in the next few weeks).

I started this blog with the aim that it would not meander entirely off topic, and at least talk vaguely about food. Of course I’m going to have to try harder now that the course is done. So with that in mind I will leave you with this. My exchange today with the fishmonger:

Me: Do you know if this haddock was cold-smoked or hot-smoked?

Fishmonger (straight faced): Well, I’ve just taken it out of the fridge, so cold smoked I suppose.

This was not sarcasm. I despair. It may be time to find a new fishmonger.