straighter lines, tighter field

Yesterday, DPD tried to deliver a parcel but found no-one in. I went to their website last night to request a collection from their depot, hoping that even if I turned up a bit later than the selected 13:00 on Wednesday that they'd still let me pick it up. Fortunately I had yet to leave for a long Newbridge-bound lunch ride when they texted to say that my parcel was back out for delivery today. Numpters. Conveniently, they reckoned it would be late afternoon by the time Wayne the delivery drive arrived, enabling me to leave early instead of take a long lunch and be home in time to intercept it.

I needed to pop to a rotting wood warehouse this evening to pick up a few more curving timbers for the thing in the garden, thinking that I'd either have to head off during the wingpiglet's shutdown process to get there in time or that I could go straight after my tea, getting back in time for him going to sleep but missing the evening. It was then pointed out that we could all go to the rotting wood warehouse, where fortunately the staff merely smiled indulgently at him when he was riding on the trolley rather than demanding that he dismount. At one point he started straining in his harness in the direction of something at the far end of the wood treatment products aisle, having spotted some little folding camp chairs which he wanted to sit in for a second before attempting to squirm away underneath a chain from which a 'staff only' notice was hanging.

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