No Concept of Time
My dogs and the UK postal service. Cooper the short fat bastard decided it would be fun to bark at everything that walks past the house between 0230 and 0630. Nice, thanks bud. It’s not as if I’ve got trouble sleeping right now anyway. I have a chesty cold and every time I move during the night I cough. It’s not very pleasant and it keeps my wife awake too.
Ok, I can sort the dog with a kick up the arse (not literally!) and putting him in the kitchen. Then at 0640 he starts again. I get up and go to tell him off. Again. I know, I should probably ignore him but the neighbours have already complained about him barking during the night.
I got about half way down the stairs and there was a knock at the front door. Twenty to seven in the bloody morning and someone is knocking on my door. I opened it to discover the postman had a parcel for me. Fantastic, my new amplifier is here, but which normal person is up at 0640 to be able to answer the bloody door.
Yesterday (Friday) the postman never arrived. Thursday it was around one fifteen in the afternoon when he set Cooper off by putting the mail through the door. I know it was then as I have been on leave all week.
What the hell? Can they not get a regular delivery time? I don’t mind paying 30+ pence for a first class stamp. I don’t mind being run over/off the road by the Postman Pat style van or the arrogant wanker in the transit van who will mercilessly mow you down because he’s bigger than you. But.
DO NOT GET ME UP AT HALF PAST SIX IN THE FUCKING MORNING! Bastards!
I can feel another bout of really bad poetry coming on.
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