From passports to Prosecco – have home deliveries gone too far?
telegraph.co.ukget my passport I stayed in for three days. The first was the Saturday I’d ticked on their form. The following Monday they told me they didn’t deliver on Saturdays, even though it was on the form.It occurs to me that perhaps by moaning on, I might lose your attention, so I’ll make it snappy.
The second time, they couldn’t get into the building. Were they trying the chimney? There is a bell.A third failure, as in a fairy tale, would see my passport impounded, my forehead branded and my garden sown with salt.
I therefore stayed in, fearing to go to the loo, but sticking my head out of the window whenever a car approached. Before sundown a man on a bicycle trundled by, pulling a trailer like a bathing-machine, and gave me the passport in the street, though I could have been a hired assassin.
I know, not very likely.So when the men from John Lewis arrived with my washing machine, I was petrified lest I shouldn’t meet deliveree requirements.
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