DID you read the story of the little lad who sent a birthday card to his dad in Heaven and got a note back from the Royal Mail saying it had been delivered?
Jase Hyndman is only seven and lost his father four years ago. Nevertheless, he sent a card to him, asking the postman to make sure he received it.
He was, as you can imagine, thrilled when a reply came back, confirming delivery and how Royal Mail had had to “avoid stars and other galactic objects” to get it there.
What a lovely thing to do. An act that cost nothing but brought so much.
Meanwhile, here in Merseyside the ECHO recently highlighted a scheme where posties are keeping an eye on elderly customers, calling on them to check they’re safe and well as the winter weather bites.
All it means is that they knock and say hello to customers but for many that might be a lifeline – and the only human interaction they get from day to day.
The Royal Mail sometimes get a bad press and it’s all too easy to take posties for granted.
But in this digital world when so much is facelessly online they remain embedded in the community, a humanitarian resource.
We should treasure them more.
SO, off I went last weekend to the seventh circle of hell – also known as Cheshire Oaks at Christmas.
Don’t get me wrong – there were bargains to be had – but the pay-off was the stress caused by a lack of parking, the queues, the crowds. And the toilets.
How can somewhere as big as Cheshire Oaks get toilets – specifically the ladies – so badly wrong?
I get there are renovations going on at the moment. I get temporary loos are nobody’s idea of fun.
But why are there so few of them – and so many out of order? Where was the water to wash your hands? The cleaner to empty the overflowing bin?
Meanwhile, over at the gents, there was no queue in sight.
Given it’s predominantly women who’ll be lashing out a fortune this Christmas it would be nice if shops made it a pleasure for us to spend a penny.
First published in Liverpool Echo, 1 December 2018.