I return home to find a card pushed through the letterbox.

They have tried to deliver a parcel!!! The card tells me of this fact.

Booooooo – I have missed my parcel. I am not expecting a parcel, so it is an exciting surprise parcel as well. And I have missed it due to having to buy milk. I will never drink milk again.

Normally if there is a parcel they just leave it by the front door, or stick it in the old outside toilet. Clearly it is a valuable parcel!!! I rack my brains to think what it can be.

“A man tried to deliver a parcel!!!” I tell the LTLP, who is making tea with the evil conniving never-to-be-used-again milk.

“Aha!” she replies.

I am a bit confused by her aha, and study the card again. Wait!!! There is a scribble!!! It is all-but indecipherable, and indicates that my parcel has been delivered by a monkey with a crayon. Somebody in the Village may have noticed a monkey driving a van and seen which way they went. A shadow crosses my face. It is ridiculous banning you from using your mobile telephone to call premium rate numbers whilst you are at the wheel if they are happy to let monkeys drive heavy goods vehicles.

I will be disappointed if my parcel is a consignment of bananas.

The LTLP studies the card. “They’ve left it over the road,” she concludes.

Over the road!!! They have left my parcel over the road!!!

“I’ll get it. I know what it is,” she continues.

I do not have time to explore this last statement before she has hobbled out the door. My head is a maelstrom of possibilities.

A few minutes later she reappears with a huge and interesting-looking box…

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