This morning, on stepping oustide my front door, I was catapulted into the earth's atmosphere. In the moments which followed, I saw various kinds of flotsam and jetsam - discarded rayguns, wrappers from astronaut ice cream, a Hillman Imp being driven by Laika, the space dog - before performing a quarter-front somersault with two-and-a-half twists, and landing perfectly on the cushioned soles of my Polyveldts. (I learned this move - known as a "Ball Out: Randy" - during the summer of 1971, when I worked the trampolines in the Lodge Grounds, North Berwick).
On landing, I inspected the step and discovered the cause of this "trampoline" effect. In recent months, and for reasons that remain obscure, the postie has been leaving elastic offerings on my front step. These come in the form of red rubber bands. There are now hundreds of them, and over time, with the soft caressing of the autumn wind, they have tangled together, into a mat of red elastic tumbleweed. Ordinarily, this would be untidy, but not dangerous. However, the addition of the everlasting sole of the Polyveldt shoe had a dramatic effect, transforming this gentle, if lithe, senior citizen into Spring-Heeled Jack.
The odd thing is, I never receive any letters. No cards, or letters from the lost or the loved, no bills, no credit card offers or complimentary charity Biros.
Only elastic.
3 comments:
Mr Elder Sir, In recognition of many years enjoyment of your rememberances, to put an end to your postal droubt and to ensure you are appropriatly attired for your gymnastic exertions I am sending you an all-over leotard, printed with a harris tweed design to make it inconspicuous about the town. I told the lady at the post office to ensure it is wrapped only in string and with no elastic bands lest a certain gentleman of the borders be put into permanent orbit and his blog transmissions be picked up by SETI and cause no end of exitement amongst the astronomical fraternity to which they are ill-accustomed
Mr Arthur,
I thank you for your kind thoughts. However, I am aware that the GPO now delivers letters in a random manner - this being the original "postcode lottery" - and thus the chances of the tweed leotard reaching me are remote.
This morning, I received another three elastic bands, and one charity Biro.
What are they teaching the youngsters in remedial school these days ? We don't spell drought as in "doubt" with an 'R'. Think the Dr Ought, and you won't go wrong in future. As in " the Dr Ought to buy you a dictionary, then simple words will be easy to spell"
Splendid post Mr Elder. Long may you not yet be quite dead.
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