Walking back down to town again today, and the same people are repairing the path. Say hello in passing. There is nothing much to do today, except to collect an errant parcel from the post, a parcel that went to France and back in order to ensure a refund. A complicated story, all based on some form of Chinese import scam.
The devices are useless, they will remain in their box until someone claims them or the matter has subsided.
The man in the post office has an explanation for the misspelt surname on the collection card. The label on the parcel has been damaged.
There are short queues in the post office, with all the people keeping their distance from another.
Go home, with that silly parcel and feel a depression, sudden and black. Try to work against it by cleaning up the kitchen, then lie down until sleep takes over, a mercy.
It is the first day in as a pensioner.
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