There it was - the distinctive Royal Mail card, saying how sorry they were to have missed me. Now I hadn't seen one of those cards in a good while. The reason being our postie, a man of endless invention, always delivers. Mail might be in the lobby, in the garage, with the neighbours or under the barbecue cover, but it'll be there. Somewhere.
He also checks in with elderly neighbours, pats dogs and smiles at children. As something of a legend, it is normal to see him in attendance at local weddings and funerals.
Now as is often the case I was behind with developments in Pat's life story and so it was something of a shock, to discover Postie had been reprimanded for breaking Royal Mail regulations. This he had done to ensure we got our parcels. But now, somebody with a brain greater than a gnat had demanded action. Postie's punishment - a new round in a new town.
Hey no judgement, but as a consequence I am about to make an eight mile round trip to Yarmouth's postal centre to pick up a small parcel containing an ink cartridge.
Come back Postie - we are missing you already.