Post office

Seth turned 3 recently and as our new house hasn't been maintained for 40 years with blocked drains, toilets, sinks, cracked plaster, peeling paint, peeling wallpaper, damp, dirt, and silent door bell... we didn't hear the postman come to deliver what I guess to be his present. A "I came to deliver but you were not in" slip was left in the new letterbox (the old one was bust) while I was busy renovating. Another slip was left to let me know that a replacement part for my wallpaper stripper had come from Germany over the bank holiday too. Armed with my two slips I set off to the central Post Office in town to pick up the goodies. I must remember to fix the doorbell...
Again I sped past lines of people stuck in their cars and was in the centre in minutes. Having been a car muppet for years I am conditioned to believe that cars are faster. The message is sinking in. What is great about a bike is that you can just stop when you want and there is no parking hassle, on the way back I managed a coffee on a lovely square that took my fancy and had a chat with the café server who asked me about the Yuba Mundo, then I cut my way through the immobile traffic and was home in minutes. Impossible in a car.