Monday, February 26, 2018

It is a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a bomb?

No, it is a Fringe Twister. 

This was the parcel which I did battle with a robot to trace.  On my second try to find it I hung on through the whole menu and, as I had hoped, finally reached the part where if I pressed '4' I would be allowed to speak to a real person.  She located the package in the 'return to sender' section of Australia Post but only because I had the tracking number.

It was there because the address had been written with a gel pen which, as anyone who has used one has found, the ink is slow to dry and on plastic or shiny paper it smudges something awful.  My parcel was in a shiny plastic post bag and was so smudged that the address could not be read although the postcode could be deciphered if one knew what one was looking for.

It was STILL in the 'return to sender' section because there was no return address.  It had been opened to try to obtain information as to either its forward address or its return address but there was absolutely nothing included; no docket, no information on how to return the goods if they were damaged, nothing! 

And I can imagine how it went.  I suspect that it was carefully opened by the bomb squad as an undecipherable address and no information as to its origins would have been immediately suspicious.

Anyway, when the proper person at the Postal Office located it she questioned me closely as to what it was and who had sent it as well as taking my name and address.  Luckily I knew what was in the parcel and that that it had originated with a company in New Zealand but had been sent by their Australian agent.  So it arrived two days later and is not as easy to operate as I had hoped that it would be but I am getting the knack slowly  -  and there are an awful lot of fringe twists to be replaced so I should be an expert by the time my beautiful tablecloth is made whole again.

I will be doing a little bit at a time as the cotton string is difficult to thread through the holes left by the tassels which Parsifal the Cat ate when he was a kitten.  I could simply buy white cotton fringing and sew it on but it would no longer look block printed by hand with hand made tassels.

The Sudoku of the day . . .

Windows NT crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No one hears your screams.

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