Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's grocery delivery man.

After I left the police I re-civilianised myself and rode a lot of miles on my Harley. Then I decided to get a little job I did a bit of on-line groceries delivery for a major supermarket, whilst waiting for my next assignment in life. Here’s a few moments that stuck in my mind: A MENCAP care in the community `halfway house` where I couldn't tell staff from residents which, to me, means they’re doing a darn good job. Support MENCAP, they are magnificent. (Mencap - The UK's leading learning disability charity) A `mansion` (South Fork style) where the owners were a couple of nouveau riche low-life's in designer gear and a permanent state of domestic turmoil - think "The Osborne's" with the over-riding threat of imminent violence - just like being back in the police working sink estatesville. I was later told that the thug male of the house was a professional football star on a six-figure salary -per MONTH - whatever, still behaved like a low life p.o.s. You can dress a yob in Armani, but he’s still a yob. A university hall of residence - all female - where I was ushered in through three security doors and into a communal kitchen which was more of a chamber of hormones! Midday Saturday and most of them either still in bed with each other or slopping about in next-to-nothing- jim-jams - good job I knew where to look! I had to give the 19 yr old customer a £10 voucher because I was 10 mins late. One of her mates immediately piped up with, "Ooh, can we persuade you to always come late? Hoots of screams and giggles followed. With all the dignity I could muster I replied, "Well, as Charles said to Diana, `I'll be leaving one now`. A doorstep in the North of the city on a lovely sunny day, where the lady of the house received the goods from me, `dressed` in a baggy shirt, probably her husbands, that didn’t even cover her `map of Tasmania` and combined with the breeze and the bending, revealed everything, including her appendix scar. Didn’t bat an eyelid. A job where I walked into the open door of the delivery address to find a bloke who could not walk or talk. We communicated by nods and gestures. I just sort of assumed he wanted the groceries and unpacked them for him. A warden supervised care home for the elderly, where my 85 year old customer used to be a policeman in London, at my very 1st nick, when they wore the collar numbers on the collar! I had no time to talk to him, which was a tragedy, because of the time and motion clock I was working to.

An address where the SATNAV took me on a nightmare journey down a series of progressively narrowing cobbled alleyways where at one point I had to fold in both mirrors to get through with literally 2" clearance either side. Halfway along a lady in a Mini Cooper came the other way but told me she couldn’t reverse. I climed out of my cab window to back her car out for her, before climbing back in to drive my van out. And then found out it was the wrong address. Technology, pah! But at least I know I can maneuver a 7 ton van into a space the size of a cigarette packet. That was a tough job.