We had an Indian takeaway for dinner yesterday which we ordered online from a place we hadn’t tried before. In these days of sat navs, maps and GPS systems on mobile phones, it’s amazing to discover that our household still can’t be located by a restaurant delivery service. It happens quite often. OK, so we’re not helped by the fact that although our address comprises a building name, a street, a town and a post code, we have no street number and there is no vehicular access to the building from the street itself. Additionally, the front entrance to the building is on the side with no public access. The entrance at the back of the building is accessible by vehicles and this is the entrance that all residents regard as the front entrance. Go figure.
We knew we were on a loser when the restaurant rang to tell us that the delivery guy had rung them to say that he couldn’t get in through the gates. (There are no gates to our property.) Could we give the guy a call? JP took the number and rang him. Unfortunately, the guy didn’t seem to know exactly where he was but by a process of hand gestures from JP, pacing of the room and a question or two, JP decided that he might actually be on our street (that’s the one at the front that’s really the back) and offered to meet him at the door.
Easily spotted in his bright yellow rugby/decorating shirt (long story – don’t go there), JP collected our takeaway when the driver pulled up few minutes later. The driver couldn’t tell him where he’d been so we’ll never know which gated ‘mansion’ he thought we lived in. Sad to say, the food was average, luke-warm as a result of its unexpected tour of the vicinity, salty, oily and overly yellow from an obvious excess of food dye. Needless to say, we’ll be saving them the trouble of ever trying to find us again.