Exchange in the Post Office proves I’m a scatterbrain

The drivers' dispute might be over, but at what cost?

CLIVE SMITH: The dressing-up corner is now no longer safe from the PC brigade

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You’re that girl from the paper aren’t you?’ said the woman behind the counter at the Post Office in Commercial Road, Portsmouth this week.

‘I thought I recognised you when you came in, but now you’ve said your name I know it’s you’ she added.

‘Ah how lovely’ I thought as I smiled and confirmed her suspicions. But I was somewhat alarmed that she had recognised me, given that I’d gone to the Post Office straight from the gym and was not exactly looking my best.

Picture me. Fringe pulled back off my face in an unattractive, 15-year-old’s hairdo, scruffy trainers and a rather damp complexion (I try to perspire a lot when in the gym as sweat = calories burned).

So I didn’t exactly look like I thought I did in the picture at the top of this column. Not that I’m saying this one particularly paints me as an Angelina Jolie lookalike, but still.

Anyway, this lovely woman started telling me that she reads my column every week and remembers me from my radio days for – and I quote – ‘nattering away.’

It’s only at times like these that I’m kind of reminded about the fact people do read my column.

It’s a weird thing writing about your life every week. If I actually sat back and took stock that people read what I write, I’d probably censor every second word so I just tend not to think about it. That way you really do get an honest column, that I can promise you!

I told the lady (I really should have paid more attention to her name badge) that I wanted to apply for a new driving licence, not because it had expired or because it was stolen, but because I simply couldn’t find it.

She was trying her upmost to be helpful. ‘So do you have your paper licence with you Miss Gibbs’ she asked.

No. ‘Okay, so do you have any of the forms from the DVLA with you?’

No, sorry.

‘Did you bring your ID with you then?’

My reddening face answered that one.

‘Well, at least I know you tell the truth in your column don’t I?’ she said.

‘You really are a scatterbrain.’ I can’t argue with that.