London Diary




"royal fail"

When I came home this afternoon my heart and stomach made an angry jump as I saw the big parcel that was lying on the doormat, a dirty old brown thingy that already years ago lost most of the 'Welcome!' that in better days was written across it, XL. Expected it to be the computer stuff I ordered some weeks ago: software, manuals, lots of it, already paid for and apparently left on that there filthy carpet by a Royal Mail man during his morning round, just like that. No notification, or whatever, no, no. Anyone who would have bothered to step down the stairs into the frontyard could have taken it. I was really pissed, and wanted to go over to the post office immediately to file a complaint. But as I bent over to pick the thing up, I saw that it was something else, not even meant for me. That cooled my anger considerably... ;-) Street, housenumber, basement flat - these were all mine, allright. But it was addressed to an 'A. Burovski', which, I think, is a Russian name (though from the stamps I gathered that the parcel was sent from Poland). No return address indicated. Just stamps, the Burovski name, my address, lots of sellotape and lots of cheap brown wrapping paper.

I picked it up. Pretty heavy. Books, probably.

I knew the name. Burovski is the guy that used to live in the basement before I moved in, and who's causing me quite some trouble because of the many bills he left unpaid when he moved out. Without leaving a trace.

Thought about opening the parcel, just to have a look. Maybe I will learn from the contents where the guy can be reached. Or how to return the package to the sending party.

But I didn't.