There Was a Fracas

The Postie had been folding things in half and ramming them through the letterbox.  A book, ruined, and a coat.  Who pushes a whole coat through a letterbox?  A duster coat with a showerproof finish which the letter-box-squashing ruined.  Raised complaints with Royal Mail for compensation of the cost of both items.  Complaints took months, and at least three reminders, before I was told, in both cases, that I needed to take it up with the vendors, Amazon and M&S respectively.  Was already incandescent, but only receiving a refund from Amazon and not for the coat, as too much time had gone by, fired my wrath a vivid shade of purple, and the air blue.  Several weeks ago, the corners of a book were bashed by the cardboard container being rammed through the letterbox, but Postie skipped off around the corner before I even got to the door.  Thursday morning, while he was ramming a dress from Seasalt (had discount and rewards money, so comes under crap-I-did-need category) through said letterbox, I basically went supernova.  Stormed to the door, ranting at the top of my voice ‘Can you not ring the fucking doorbell!’.  From the shocked squawk outside the front door, realised he must have heard me.  (Well, his eyes had gone all that popping way).  Opening the door, he was about to pull the dress back through the letterbox and squash it twice.  I was still shouting.  Which is how I know he’s under instruction if something goes through a letterbox, he’s obliged to deliver it.  I shouted, 'Not if he had to fold things in half first!'  

This morning a parcel came from V&A (crap-I-didn’t-need).  It would have easily gone through the letterbox, but he rang the doorbell.  I apologised and he accepted. 

‘Fracas’ is French for ‘smash’.