The Calender Year

Early this morning, long before breakfast, I rose into the freezing air and headed once more towards the sorting office.  The land was white with frost, the air clear, and the sun vainly tried to shine through the thin layer of cloud that covered the land.  A similar one to mine was noted over a Scots golf course this morning.  I passed a miserable postman scraping ice of his van windscreen (Van? In my day a bike was all we had!) and joined the well wrapped up folks in the queue awaiting mail the postman had failed to deliver.

 
The small queue moved slowly as the miserable old git struggled to operate the computer system, read the paperwork and remain alive while doing his job.  As I waited I cuddled a female postman who passed by on her way to her van, she was one of the more intelligent women when I was employed here, now she is a mother of three wondering what the museum can do for the kids during half term.  We discussed this while she held the door open allowing freezing air to enter the building thus allowing the others to offer dark stares from under their woollen headgear.  

Eventually misery took my card and half heartedly listened to my description of the goods (large white card envelope for calender) he should search for.  He disappeared into the building and I watched men in red shirts shove items large and small from one place to another.  I knew the man in charge had a good idea what to do but I got the impression he was moving things they had just placed in their place to offer them the correct spot!  Nothing new in 'the box' I thought.  Misery trudged through with the large white card envelope as described and slowly and at the second attempt grumpily flashed the hand held computer over it and passed it to me without a smile.  
Clearly, as I thought, the goods were there when I was telling the girl the other day they were there and some grumpy dope had not put it on the system.  
Twice I have taken my sore knees down there without complaining to collect this and what do I now have sitting here on my desk?  A 'Broons' Calendar!  The 'Broons' are a Scots cartoon family that live in a tenement building somewhere in industrial Scotland.  Originating in 1936 they were intended to be generic of a typical Scots family of the time and their adventures are still recorded in the 'Sunday Post' week by week and remain a children's favourite.  'The Sunday Post' once sold so many 'family' papers that it was thought 80% of Scots read the paper.  The writing style was often called 'old womanish' in its approach though often what is written is far from that these days.  I myself ceased reading it forty years ago and seeing it now it changeth not. However it will decorate this room for the next year allowing me to forget to add birthdays, events etc as I ought....