Extract from my Travelogue of Leeds

Those finding themselves with a half day to spare may wish to consider tracking down a branch of the ‘Post Office’. Once a common sight on the high streets of England, a few doughty individual branches continue to cling on to a precarious existence in some parts of the city. Despite extremely long queues of customers apparently wanting to part with money for the various services offered, they continue to close, the wear and tear on the floor simply too extreme to be funded by the meagre profits available.

However, the experience represents a metaphor for life and if struggle, frustration, boiling anger and resentment bordering on violence are what you’re looking for on an outing then this could be the place for you.

Please note the queue to reach the counter can reach several hours – sandwiches, flask and toilet tent will be essential.

Have to get direct now...there are only 2 post offices in Leeds city centre now and there's a queue of 35 people waiting to get in each of them in the morning. They closed down the main one (presumably because it was too busy for them). The queues stay at about 35 all day so far as I can see. When I'm paying someone money, what right do they have to keep me waiting for 40 minutes? Try getting to the counter and waiting for 40 minutes. What happens if some poor sod keep the directors waiting 40 minutes....now there's a point.

I get so drained by this combination of shite service and leaflets and websites wanking on about 'our commitment to our customers' that I can't even be bothered to complain anymore.

By the way, when my Dad were a lad he worked with someone who let his wife know if he'd be home for dinner by sending her a postcard.