Quote from: Newportnobby on June 14, 2025, 03:29:30 PM

Quote from: The Q on June 14, 2025, 02:56:17 PMAnd definitely not at the radar museum on my side.

You have a radar museum on your side??

(When trying to open a door - Bluebottle "Eccles, turn the knob on your side". Eccles "I haven't got a knob on my side ")

I should add I'm a volunteer at the radar  museum, and the room I show people round in is the wrong side of the building to get mobile phone signals. There's a 64 ft square WW2 concrete above ground bunker, full of radar consoles in the way.


I'm normally residing the other side of the wall on the left. ( The equipment is the early 1970s refit.)

I worked on and also taught airborne radar from the early 1950s for 23 years in the RAF. Initially the H2SMk4 as fitted to the Lincoln Bombers, a development of the Mk3 version fitted in the Lancaster, ending up with the Mk9 version fitted in the V bombers, along with other radars, including tail warning, and navigation aids

Apart from working on large bits of equipment at RAF Neatishead and similar sites, I then worked on and taught this and it's associated test equipment.


Of which I'm soon to start making a 1/4 scale model for the museum.

Just had a rather flustered courier driver knock on the door very loudly (why – when there's a whack off Ring doorbell staring him in the face?) and before 5 seconds had elapsed he'd gone down the side of my little bungalow with the obvious intention of leaving it there, putting a card through my letter box and then doing a runner.
He must have heard me open the door as he came back with the parcel, looked at me and asked "Doreen Brown?"
OK, he may have been asking if such a person lived at my bungalow but I just couldn't resist so said "do I look like Doreen Brown?" to which he replied "No. This is Ashfields, isn't it?". "No" says I. "This is Nookfield" "Bugger" quoth he "where's Ashfields then?" I replied "Jiggered if I know"
He staggered back to his van with what was obviously a fairly heavy parcel and accelerated away so fast that his van spat gravel across the road.
If I'd not been in, I'd have had to phone the courier company (unmarked white van) and they'd have had to come and fetch poor Doreen's parcel or she'd never have got it and, presumably, reported it MIA or KIA. He's on film anyway.

Not to excuse them but often the drivers are under such enormous pressure to deliver huge and unrealistic volumes of parcels that they get desperate and try to cut corners. A degree of responsibility therefore rests with the courier firms themselves.