Shopping online is convenient for some

NOT to be too cliched about it but I’ve been taxi driver, cook, washerwoman, adviser and provider for my three. But I never thought I would see the day when I would morph into a postman.

My three adult children buy everything online. I regularly point out to them the pitfalls (soon there will be no shops to wander in and out of ), but I’m preaching to deaf ears.

Now that they have all moved out and are at work during the day, they have either collectively or individually decided, as I’m no longer working, that I can stay at home and wait for their multitudinous parcels. I am running a sorting office from my home. With no pay.

It starts very early in the morning. Bleary-eyed. With the postman. He knows every different nightie I have. Soon I’ll start appearing naked and he’ll never deliver anything again. And then if I dare to venture out there is, invariably, on my return, a card to say a delivery has arrived and I’ll have to pick it up at the collection office. They know me well too. Albeit fully clothed.

I sent a text to one of my three the other day to say I had left a parcel around the side of their house. I was berated for my lack of efficiency and due care. Was it possible that I had left it out when there was a possibility of rain.

In fact, my dear friends in the collection office had put it into a black bag and tied it with string. That’s how pally we are. They appear to think I have no life and will continue to serve them until my demise. I’m overreacting if I complain or make snide comments.

Maybe I will appear naked to the postman.