Monday, December 30

 I've been trying to find a local gardener to trim some bushes, particularly at the side of the house.  It's the season for rapid growth, of course, so I've had no success.  So, I rang Jamie and asked him to bring some tools so we could have a go at it ourselves.  Today was the day.

It's a bit overcast so we decided to start early. I took a pair of clippers and began at the front of the hedge but Jamie took a serious hacking machine and attacked the thicker branches.  It's looking alright but there are a couple of rough patches where we got a bit too enthusiastic.  Still, by this time next year we won't even notice.

We have a huge pile of offcuts now so I'll have to borrow a couple of FOGO bins from the neighbours to get rid of it.

Here's one of my favourite stories: The Missing Postman from 2021.

THE MISSING POSTMAN                                                                     AUGUST 27, 2021

If anyone asked what he did, Wayne would tell them he was the Missing Postman.  Sometimes, people would ask him what he meant because, in their simple understanding, he was there in front of them so, clearly, not missing at all.  Wayne would just smile and change the subject.

It wasn’t surprising that people came to think that Wayne was a little odd, if not seriously disturbed.

In fact, Wayne was employed by the Post Office to make enquiries when postal items went astray.  He was the man who looked after the Post that was Missing.  He was the Missing Post Man.

If you knew Wayne, you would wonder how he kept his job.  He was certainly no intellectual giant and he had an irritating habit of constantly singing old Everley Brothers songs in a low monotone voice.  More than one fellow-employee had asked for a transfer after one too many choruses of Bye Bye Love.

But, Wayne was always neatly dressed; his mother ironed a fresh shirt for him every morning, and he was generous in helping out when anyone needed an hour or two off for personal business.  Most importantly, no one else was prepared to take on the job of Missing Post Man.  It was a thankless task with little hope of promotion.  The incumbent had only a tiny cubby-hole to work from.  Some wag once dubbed this the Dead Letter Office and the name stuck. 

The general feeling among the staff was that the job of Missing Postman was the end of the line, the job you were given when Head Office thought you should be put out to pasture.  And, of course, no one can be sacked from the Public Service; it is a well-known fact that every Public Service Department has a designated number of positions which are so mind-numbingly boring that their sole purpose is to make life so miserable for the incumbent that a resignation will inevitably follow.

Somehow, Wayne thrived in his hovel of an office.  He always had a tiny vase of fresh flowers and his desk was the tidiest in the whole department.  He brought polish from home and every Monday morning, all the furniture was treated to a spruce-up.  Wayne was held up to the other staff as a model employee, whose example others should follow. 

Perhaps, his supervisors should have looked at how successful he was in discovering the whereabouts of missing postal items before holding him up as a shining example of what a good employee should look like.  In short, his success rate was appalling.  Apart from the odd letter from the bank or electricity bill, he found almost nothing that had gone astray. 

Wayne was not very bright, but he was certainly sharp enough to know when a good scheme should come to an end.  One Monday morning, Wayne didn’t show up to work.  No one was worried; he wasn’t a vital cog in the wheel and everyone assumed his mother would ring at some stage to say that he had a cold.  Another day passed, and another and someone thought, perhaps, a ‘phone call to his mother might be a good idea.

His mother was surprised to receive the call. Didn’t they realise that Wayne had been sent off to Canberra for special training before he took on his new job as Controller of Misplaced Parcels?  This announcement caused much consternation in the office.  Surely, it couldn’t be true.  Even the public service wouldn’t be stupid enough to promote Wayne to any position of authority.

The wheels of the Public Service grind slowly but, eventually, an investigation was launched to inquire into the matter. A panel of eminent retired senior officers from the department was charged with finding out what had happened to Wayne and were there any extenuating circumstances which should be taken into account.  The matter was certainly helped by the arrival of a postcard from Wayne, now resident in a South American country which, as it happens, has no extradition treaty with Australia.

A picture was emerging that Wayne had been up to no good, and diligent digging unearthed the truth that, for years, Wayne had been stealing parcels and other mail and, as the Missing Postman, he had been able to cover up the theft quite easily. He focused on birthday and Christmas cards which might have a banknote tucked into them, and parcels from ebay and other mail order companies, which were all covered by insurance so nobody would make a fuss if they didn’t arrive.

Few people in the Post Office had ever given Wayne a second thought but now the Legend of the Missing Postman will live for ever.