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Memories of Steve J/P 1359 Bristol
Thinking back to my days as a Junior Postman in Bristol in 1968 I recall the ‘reefer’ jackets, one of which I still have, which kept out all but the worst weather when we put on our greatcoats with the leather dispatch rider sleeveless jacket over it to keep the wind out.
Our P.H.G. on dispatch was an ex Navy Petty Officer and I can recall messengers being sent home to get their tie or because they were not wearing their G.P.O. boots!
In Bristol H.P.O. we had pneumatic tubes to and from where Inland & Overseas were received to Telegraph Delivery. One bright spark put an egg up the tube, apparently they heard the egg rattling through the tube as it made its way to finally fall out in the basket in Inland and break as it did!
One of our messengers had a Government Priority Telegram recalling the Captain of one of Her Majesty’s Ships to take his ship to sea, it was his only telegram to deliver and it was his final trip of the day and the last set of deliveries that evening - so an easy one and early off home. However there was no answer (N/A) at the house. The messenger went straight to the garage ; being forgetful he left the telegram in his pouch. Next day when he was playing football his Inspector turned up, called him off the pitch and took him to the garage to retrieve the telegram. Needless to say the offending messenger had a P18 Major Irregularity to answer. The ship went to sea without its Captain!
Sundays in Bristol had its own quirks, some messengers had better bikes than others and if they were not working that Sunday they would make sure that their bike had very little petrol in them and, as the pumps were locked, the reasoning was that no petrol meant no body would be able to use their bike. Those who were on Sunday duty had to ensure thy filled their bikes up on the Saturday when the pumps were open. The way messengers got round this was to upturn their, full, bike and tip the petrol into a 1 gallon petrol flagon they kept in the basement. Then they would put petrol into the ’good’ bike. One Sunday someone was smoking! The petrol caught fire and the nearest fire extinguisher didn’t work, the garage was in the basement of Temple Meads Station Sorting Office. You might imagine the panic… Anyway some quick thinking and the closest bikes were moved clear and a working extinguisher found to put out the fire. Nobody who mattered ever found out!
Thanks Steve for that first part, more to come later!
In Leicester and probably other places N/A was referred to as Not Attempted! Knowing some of the lads it was often spot on!!
In Leicester we had a small number of bikes but on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays the delivery area was greatly extended, so no petrol tricks especially as our P.H.G.’s were very happy to despatch truculent messengers on a 10 mile round trip!
As promised here are some other anecdotes I recall.
One day I was called to Temple Meads Station Sorting Office to pick up an urgent parcel. The Telegraph Delivery office in Bristol was in the HPO, which was a mile or so from the SSO with an hourly van between the two. So it was very unusual to collect from the floor of the SSO. The item in question was not sent Special Delivery, but even so it was singled out for special treatment. When I arrived on the Sorting Office floor I could smell why they had spent some time tracking down the offending item and gone to so much trouble, it stunk out the whole floor! Someone had sent a Salmon from Scotland by parcel post. The object in question was wrapped in brown paper, which was stained and slimy with ‘seepage’ as it was described to me. I didn’t ever tie the postman’s pouch to the back of the bike in case it tangled in the rear wheel. So I had to sling the pouch around my neck and deliver the fish. Needless to say no one was home, but this was not going back and it was left on their step.
I used to enjoy working Christmas Day, in those days there was so little traffic we used to drive through red traffic lights with impunity on Christmas Day. And of course there was the overtime. This Christmas Day I had a single telegram to delivery to ‘The Duke of Beaufort, Badminton’. On Christmas Day our delivery area was extended and Badminton was a place that we only ever delivered to on this special day, it was over an hour ride each way and there was no Motorway in those days. This Christmas Day was cold with a freezing mist. Eventually I arrived at Badminton, covered in ice and unable to move my fingers. I cast around for a welcoming pub by the name of The Duke of Beaufort, no luck. Eventually I knocked someone up and asked directions to the Duke of Beaufort pub, with much seasonal merriment they directed me off down the street and along a driveway. Eventually I arrived at a huge house, seeing no pub I rang the bell and asked again for directions to The Duke of Beaufort pub from the butler who answered. Who of course put me right, took the telegram and sent me on my way without as much as a thank you.
Finally we used to get up to all sorts when riding the bikes, from riding close to each other to turn off the ignition on the bike next to you, to playing chicken. One day two bikes were playing chicken by driving straight at each other on Fishponds Road , only to swerve at the last moment. Well this day they left it a bit late and their mirrors got entangled, whipping them round and throwing one of the boys under a bus. Miraculously he crawled out unharmed from under the bus much to the relief of everybody concerned.
Kind Regards
Stephen Doman
