Thursday 3 August

First the good news. My pay cheque from church came this morning. It was £10! I cannot believe my good fortune. I celebrated by playing the Trumpet Voluntary on the piano until Mum got up to remind me that I was supposed to be at the newsagents by 6:45am.

And now the bad news. The job is awful! I had to hang around with some really weedy young boys until the numbers had been put on the papers and we were allowed out. My bag was very heavy and it hurt my shoulder and it started raining just as I left the shop. The bags have a big flap to cover the papers with but nothing is provided to cover the paperboys with so I was very soon soaked.

I have four streets to do on my round. Two are easy because they are quite short and everybody takes The Sun anyway, being Council House Tenants, but the other two are quite long. I am supposed to walk up one side and then back down the other, but some of my Customers expect to be served out of turn and I got a bit confused hopping over the road all the time, and then another customer chased me and said their paper was the Telegraph not the Mirror and was I a complete idiot or just illiterate. I will remember him in future. He is so surly that he is probably a teacher by trade. I have made a mental note of his address – 143 Bywater Street.

And then, when I got back to the newsagents, soaked to the skin, I was given a list. It was of people who had telephoned to say that they had had the wrong paper delivered and I was told to go back and put matters right. There were 18 of them! It took an hour, and when I had finally finished – at 9:10am - I thought of asking if I would be paid overtime for the extra work, but I decided against it because the newsagent was in a very bad temper, no doubt because of the early hour at which he has to rise.

Nothing yet in the Daily Mail. I sneaked a look while sheltering under the Chinese Pagoda at No 9 Nelson Mandela Gardens, which is one of my council house streets.