(For Karl)
He doesn’t even bother to change out
of his uniform, just goes straight to
the pub after his walk in his red jacket
and stays till late evening. He’s usually
drunk by the time I get there — drunk and
loud, but always pleased to see you. He must
get through a dozen pints, but the next morning
he’s out there pushing his trolley and delivering
his load in all weathers without a care in the world,
or so it seems.
The post The Durable Postie appeared first on The Spectator.
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