Christmas comes early from Amazon for Trish
"Your parcel is expected to be delivered on Monday." I received this email on Friday December 7. I couldn't remember what it was and there was no clue in the text, apart from a shipment number.
Nervous about clicking on links in emails in case they are scams, I chanced it and realised it was a gift I was sending to Dougie's cousin, Gail, in Scotland. I messaged her to let her know it was on its way, in case she needed me to suggest a safe place or a neighbour or a different date. No worries, Monday would be fine.
On Saturday morning, another email arrived: "We're on our way!" It was the same parcel but somehow it had travelled in a TARDIS and was about to land between 9.16 and 10.16am that morning. So much for my helpful communication the previous day.
I also sent a hamper to Gail's father. This time, I confused the despatch date with the delivery date. Messages were flung backwards and forwards, not helped when I kept talking about Monday December 11 instead of Tuesday. I crossed my fingers. It arrived safely.
When we were in York a few weeks ago, I bought some decorative lights for my niece. I wrapped them up and took them to the Post Office to be sent to Sheffield. They ask a lot of questions now. What is it? How much is it worth? Has it got batteries? Does it come in blue? Well, not that last one, but you get the gist.
The parcel had to be signed for, so I messaged my niece to let her know of the impending arrival. I checked the tracking information the next day: it had been delivered and there was a photograph of the squiggle she had made on the electronic screen.
I messaged her. 'Glad to see your parcel has arrived!' Smiley face emoji. Thumbs up.
'Has it?' she replied. Inquisitive face. "I've just got in from work.'
After some moments of panic when we both thought a neighbour had nicked her lights - and I wondered if she'd be able to spot them by looking through their windows - she discovered the parcel had been left in her brown bin. How festive.
Last week my son, Rory, asked if he could have parcels delivered to our house rather than his place in Coventry, because it was more likely that I would be in to receive them. I obliged.
The next day a parcel arrived and I thought it was a gift I had ordered myself. A pair of Christmas slipper socks were inside. They weren't mine. Oh no, Rory must have ordered them as a gift for someone.
I messaged him. 'Apologies, I opened the socks by mistake'. Guilty face.
Turns out they were a present for me from my mum. She's just discovered you can put different delivery addresses into Amazon and has gone a bit click-happy.
I've now got my feet up, waiting for the next delivery.
You can read Trish's blog at www.mumsgoneto.co.uk