I visited my local Post Office today. Inside it is a small, glass-walled sub-room, like a little office. I was intrigued to note that it was literally stuffed to the rafters with vast cardboard boxes, from which protruded a surprusing amount of straw. Each was clearly labeled from a "Mr Ghandi" in India, addressed to an Indian name here at a UK address. The labels said "Metal".
They had all been opened, or profoundly damaged in transit. What had been in them? Why so many? What "metal"?
Then, as is my wont, having obsessively examined something, I cast a half-hearted look around the rest of the waiting area. There, behind the glass front of the Post Office till, were - stacked high - enormous brass and copper elephants - easily three feet high - dancing multi-armed Shivas, Ganeshas, the odd Buddha. They had replaced all the Post Office stock that normally lines the shelves.
Bear in mind this is a Post Office where you can't buy brown paper.
The Post Office staff were selling them on. I would've taken a photograph, but you just don't want to fuck with Post Office staff. Not when they've got all the gods on their side of the glass.
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Date: 2009-02-24 04:23 pm (UTC)They had all been opened, or profoundly damaged in transit. What had been in them? Why so many? What "metal"?
Then, as is my wont, having obsessively examined something, I cast a half-hearted look around the rest of the waiting area. There, behind the glass front of the Post Office till, were - stacked high - enormous brass and copper elephants - easily three feet high - dancing multi-armed Shivas, Ganeshas, the odd Buddha. They had replaced all the Post Office stock that normally lines the shelves.
Bear in mind this is a Post Office where you can't buy brown paper.
The Post Office staff were selling them on. I would've taken a photograph, but you just don't want to fuck with Post Office staff. Not when they've got all the gods on their side of the glass.