I Wish I Had A Sundial

18 and 19 April – A stopped clock is right twice a day but a clock set 15m fast is never right.  For some reason the microwave clock (and the primary communal timepiece in the household) has to be set 15m later for reasons I am not quite aware of.  Tried to decipher it with the help of Ace Investigator Jason Triples but could not pinpoint the reason – perhaps time will tell (so to speak).  A relatively smooth and relatively inefficient workday that involved a record number of visits to KPMG (the bottom of Sussex with a strenuous in and out journey from the heart of the city) and was especially hindered by a terrible streak of bad luck with the elevators. 10 Shelley is a great one for the abuse of the lifts – despite there only being one goods elevator it is generally not heavily used in the building – if unused it sits in its place at G and when summoned to B1 it takes minimal time to arrive - there , the smart courier can, after riding right to the edge of the car park, can jump in and hit 7 (KPMG mailroom) and 9 (next unsecured floor) - upon exiting the lift at 7 the courier hits the down button thereby calling the elevator back to the floor but not overriding its commitment to heading up to 9 – this gives approximately 40 seconds before the lift return to to take the courier back to the basement – ample time for getting signatures, pickup jobs and going to the toilet (a very respectable facility) - if the courier is only there to pick up he may not even send the lift to 9 and will just press the down and snatch up the trip and jump back in before the doors close (although there is the risk of loss of limbs should the sensors fail to detect).  This is the ideal situation – the lazy and stupid couriers replicate the ‘send to 9’ trick but send it to 15 instead – doubling the time for the lifts return but it’s really just not necessary – 40s should be enough for any courier, sometimes the lifts are called up just before the button is pressed, meaning an age before the lift fetches the courier, abuse can be copped from other couriers who don’t know about or don’t care about the time shortening trip (everybody does it!!!) and there’s the inevitable cross traffic from the mailroom boys, catering staff, car park and randoms who are also relegated to the servant’s entrance.  That day, I had bud luck with the lifts.  Very bad management of the late shift – sitting around for over an hour waiting for six to arrive I finally headed sowf and sent a note telling the dispatcher I was off – this message obviously reminded the dispatcher I existed and that the bike channel existed and he sent me two completely burned FREHILs – by the time I arrived at the pickup the drop was already closed.  Typical no support at all from the people back at the base and I had to lug them home for reattempts in the morning.  Visited the parentals and ate well and it seems that I might be going to London after all – still feel a bit queasy about that particular transaction.  
A fitful sleep and a relatively hearty breakfast had me leaving the house with a fair feeling that all was fine in the world – perhaps I should have taken the fact that I was half scared to death by the flapping pigeon in my bathroom as a bad omen though - a slow start to the morning but nothing that made me feel too bad – heading back into town from Chippendale with a large STD box in the bag, cruising along Elizabeth Street behind a grey hatchback, almost certain that I wasn’t doing anything illegal or even risky when suddenly with minimal or no warning the driver ahead of me decided to do a U-turn across the double lines right across my path – slowed considerably but not quickly enough to prevent me from nosing into vehicle and ploughing into the ground – just a few scratches on me and apparently no damage to the bike (scrapes over the brand new bar tape though – perhaps even bent the handlebars more than they already were – but perhaps not) - driver was very apologetic and admitted wrong straight away but didn’t stop an onlooker screaming ‘You could have killed him!  You could have killed him!’ at the top of her voice – could potentially have carried on but it was quiet and wanted to be better safe than sorry so called it a day after getting rid of everything.  You can never really tell how you feel until the adrenalin drops.  Got a mostly clean bill from the city based doctor (great to have access to a real doctor in town).  Despite not having a liquid lunch like some I found myself in the role of designated driver to McMahons Point – but I did get my own back in food and that’s what’s really important, isn’t it?