It is possible, but by no means certain, that you may be able to remember when the Royal Mail used to deliver mail in the morning.
I struggle to remember such Utopian events, but if my memory is deficient, my imagination remains rampant.
I'm sure I can remember a time when you could almost set your clock by :-
the postman, or
the newspaper boy.
(I can even remember the baker, with his horse and cart. Leonard, was his name. And (as a young boy) I admired him enormously, because wherever he was, if he whistled, his horse would come trotting down the road, towing its cart, to where he was.)
Each turned up at almost exactly the same time each morning, come rain or shine; hell or high water.
And part of the pride of their job was in knowing that you could rely upon them, to not only deliver their own particular commodity and service, but also to do it with such courteous efficiency and regularity that you instinctively knew that if you saw one of them at a particular spot on their round, you were either on time for work, or late. And, be assured of a cheery 'Good Morning'.
But now ~ the postman turns up at any time during daylight hours. (maybe)
He may arrive a 8:45am: but that is very unlikely.
He may condescend to ram an assortment of unassociated junk (in accompaniment with a letter addressed to yourself, your wife or a family member) through your letterbox at anytime during the course of the morning: but never at the same time on two consecutive mornings.
Or, he may, weather and social commitments permitting, stroll around during the afternoon.
Now please don't imagine that I am having a go at the individual postman.
I may not be particularly bright, but I am sufficiently au fait with the current order of things to recognise that such diabolical ineptitude and inefficiency has only emerged with the advent of 'management'.
In the days when things worked efficiently, managers organised the work programmes and allowed the workforce to implement in an efficient manner.
Nowadays, such woeful stupidity is unacceptable to a management structure that has no idea what it is doing, where or how it is doing it, or what it is doing which prevents it from being in any manner, efficient.
So the postman turns up at any time. Or alternatively, not at all.
They deliver parcels subject to a different process to the mail that they deliver.
That this necessitates two deliveries to the same address, on the same day, but at totally different times, seems to have escaped the perception of the (diabolically inept) 'enlightened-management'.
Consequently, it is no longer sufficient for the householder or business man to be available to receive mail or parcel at a prescibed time in the morning.
Now, it is necessary to wait in all day, in the hope that the mail &/or the parcel that they are waiting for, may turn up. And, if they inadvertently forget that the parcel and the mail are delivered at different times, and having watched the postman pass them by, they decide that this will be an auspicious moment to visit the loo, they can be sure that the instant their backside touches the toilet seat, the postman will push a pre-filled-in red card through their letter box telling them that they can pick up their parcel from the collection depot, fourteen miles away, any time, following a period of 24 hours.
So now they have not only pre-paid for the postage: they've also got to pay the fuel and vehicle maintenance costs, to go and collect the parcel that they were patiently waiting in for.
I'm convinced that the Royal Mail does it deliberately. It's a conspiracy of Grecian proportions !!
They are determined to bankrupt themselves with all manner of inefficient practices that the courier firms wouldn't even contemplate. Then, when the courier firms are all that's left to deliver our mail and parcels, the public will be held to ransom by companies committed to the accumulation of the 'fast-buck', rather than the the provision of a service.
Thank goodness I'm twilight, rather than emergent.
But it is b****y annoying, because I do buy a lot of goods from the internet.
Perhaps I'll have to revert to last century practices and go shopping in the High Street, instead.
Good Heavens: now that is an archaic thought