Gordon the postman is out on his deliveries. He’s already bumped into Mrs Fenn from number six and given her slightly psychotic-looking poodle one of his dog treats (Gordon is very popular with dogs on his round – he has been known to pop a Bonio through the door along with the mail to his favourites so they all look forward to his rounds in case today might be their lucky day!)
As he heads up Broughton Street, he sees Mr Carver looking rather vexed in front of his house. This isn’t out of the ordinary, Mr Carver has decided to turn his rather large detached house into five probably rather poky flats. The building work is, as building work is wont to do, taking longer than anticipated and therefore costing more than it should. So Mr Carver frequently looks vexed as he negotiates deliveries, coordinates various trades and attempts to make everything work together.
On this particular morning, Mr Carver looks rather delighted on seeing Gordon, quite possibly because it is a good excuse to stop and have a chat without the entire site team all joining in and downing tools for a brew at the least excuse.
“How’s it coming Mr Carver?” Gordon asks, “all on time?”
“Oh is it heck” Mr Carver sighs “the glaziers have broken down the other end of town, the sparky’s got delayed on another job and three of the lads who should be doing the roof have got flu.”
“Goodness, nightmare. Anything I can do to help?”
“Don’t suppose you can fit a window or six in your van?” Mr Carver joked
“Of course I can!” Gordon said, “I’ll need to finish my round but after that I can go and get your glass, no problem”
And, true to his word he came back to Broughton Street after making his last delivery, picked up Mr Carver in the van to collect the glass.
“Thank you so much, Gordon” said Mr Carver as the glass was unloaded back at the site. “I really appreciate it. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, you just have to say the word.”
“Well…” said Gordon. “You know, there is something.”
“Anything” Mr Carver exclaimed
“Well. I don’t really like delivering to flats. It’s very annoying traipsing up all the stairs and takes ages. But you could help me out by putting in a decent multiple letterbox downstairs.”
“I don’t know anything about them. What is one of those?”
“It’s a bank of post boxes. There are loads of different ones. My favourite are rear access mail boxes. They are mounted in the wall or the front door of the flats, a bank of five you’d need. I just walk up to the front door, pop the post in the right number flat’s post box – bish, bash, bosh, done. The tenants then unlock their box from inside and take out their mail. It’s brilliant. Dead secure, no stairs for me and no horrible flyers littering the front entrance hall making the place look untidy. Have a look at Letterbox 4 You, they’ve got loads. Do it now and I reckon the builders can fit it while they’re here”
“Gordon, that sounds brilliant. Not so much a return of a favour for you as a great idea for me. I’ll place the order today”
“I look forward to delivering here then! Hope the build gets better soon.”
And Gordon went on his way.