DOWN THE POST OFFICE POST OFFICE

THURSDAY 10th FEBRUARY

  I had further queries from the publishers regarding photo captions, the correct title for the President of Poland - I suggested either "Bronislaw Komorowski President of Poland" or "Bronislaw Komorowski President of the Third Republic of Poland".  I was also asked for a 50 word biog of self, a task that I found quite tricky.  I was also asked if I wanted my name on the book's sleeve, which I emphatically negated, but did suggest that Professor Norman Davis' name should appear there as in "Foreword by".  All of this took up a large part of the morning, and when I was finished I set off for Eastwood.  I decided to post all the DVD's I have watched home (3 series of Spooks) and a number of CD's excluding the cases.  I took all of these with me as well as a pen and money.  I duly found an appropriate box at the post office, packed the discs, addressed the box to self in Wembley and went to the counter.  I was given a custom's form, purchased the stamps and was then asked for I.D.!  I explained I didn't have any with me.  The chappie behind the counter explained that since 9/11 the Australian government had passed legislation requiring I.D. to be produced when posting packages.  (I'm not sure if that also applies to internally posted packets or only those posted abroad but whichever I couldn't post my package without I.D.!).

  I walked over to Provence Cafe which I have been meaning to try for some time.  It has a very pleasant ambience and I got a table at the back looking out towards the street.  I ordered Earl Grey tea and a mushroom omlette with salad and chips.  I read my Elvis book and sipped my tea until the meal arrived.  An old Aussie block sat at the adjoining table, and with a very loud at thick Aussie accent ordered a coke in a glass but without a straw.  This completely confused the young Korean waitress.  He repeated his requested about three times, speaking louder and more slowly with each repeat.  The waitress eventually got what was required repeated it several times to make sure she had got it right and went off.  My man then got a paper and consumed his drink and caught up on the news.  Meantime my very tasty omelette had arrived and I slowly worked my way through the meal. The Aussie went off towards the counter - I assumed to get another paper.  Just before I finished I suddenly noticed that a similar omelette had arrived at the Aussie's table.  He had obviously been taken with what he had seen me consume.

  I now faced a wall back to the gaff, where I collected my driving license and walked back into town and the Post Office.  Ironically I got the same counter clerk who had served me previously (a white middle aged fellow) who recalled me from my earlier visit.  I produced the license and he looked at it and asked if it was a U.K. driving license.  I confirmed that it was and was just waiting to be told that it was no good as I.D., but amazingly it did the trick.  How having my U.K. driving license number would help the Australian authorities deal with any potential threat my package would pose, eludes me.  However so do many other things about the world we live in.

  A further walk back up hill to the gaff, and I did a bit more work on 1961 UK Hits, and then Robert arrived.  After giving the place a bit of a hoovering, and having a bite to eat, Robert packed me into the car and drove over to Carlingford.  Nick had a couple of his friends over and seemed well recovered from yesterday's trauma.  He is still thinking about whether he will go to the funeral next Tuesday (Jane has left it to him to decide and he isn't certain at the moment).  He has said that he will write a letter to "Grammy" and Robert has told him that if he decides not to come to the cremation he will read the letter out for him.  Nick is going back to school tomorrow.

  Robert's football match was a late kick-off at 7.10pm, and Nick took his "Razor" with him and whizzed round the perimeter of the park for a while picking up a little Asian girl on a scooter as a racing companion.

However he then came up with the brilliant idea of racing Grand-Ad with the two contestants going around the designated circuit in opposite directions.  This must have been my first sustained run I have undertaken in years!  I reckon I won but Nick disqualified me on some technicality!  He came and claimed the money his father had left with me for refreshments and went off to get a drink and some crisps.  Fearing that I might pinch some of his provisions, he went off to an adjoining bench to consume his goodies.

  He then came back with the brilliant idea that we should repeat the race.  I jogged from the start and as I was coming to the last bend I saw Nick motoring down at speed towards the finishing line - the bench.  I put on a sprint - well I speeded up anyway and ran the last 20 metres as fast as I could.  Nick realising that I was about to win, dumped his three wheeler and sprinted flat out.  It was a dead heat!  As he hadn't lost, Nick didn't disqualify me this time!  Incidentally Robert's team lost 3-0 to the Christian Boys.  Robert played pretty well had one shot saved and set up some chances for his colleagues, showed good control in beating players, but it was one of those nights when they just weren't going to score.  It was getting dark by the time we left, and completely so by the time we got back to Carlingford.  After calling in at the gaff to change into a long sleeved shirt and long trousers (the temperature had definitely gone down from the 25 degrees during the day), we went for a few revivers at the Eastwood Hotel sitting outside in the beer garden.