So...before we went off to the IOW for three nights, I'd ordered a piece of Macrolon sheet, only a small piece, and would have easily gone though my letterbox.
We got home yesterday, and there on the hall floor is a red card...'sorry you weren't in, but don't worry, we've left your item with your neighbours at number 10'
Strange, I thought...there isn't a number ten. A swift call to the courier's office opened a very large can of worms....the driver insisted he had called the sender, and they told him to leave the package with a neighbour. He hadn't...and they didn't.
A bit more digging revealed that the package had been left at number 10...in a totally different road. The office called the people at the mysterious number 10, and were told that they didn't want the package, and that they wouldn't accept responsibility for it.
By then my patience was running on empty, so after a few special sweeper drivers words were issued, they agreed to collect the package and deliver it to me today...which to give them some credit, they did.
When it arrived, it was just a common or garden Jiffy bag...opened, resealed with yards of parcel tape, and placed into another ripped and torn Jiffy bag.
The driver got quite stroppy when I insisted on signing for the package in a damaged condition...but at least the contents were in one piece.
And the name of this award winning courier company is...DPD (round of applause, please) And yes, the driver was of Eastern European origin...
It makes you wonder, it really does...