Raining again. Mum asked me where the umbrella was. I had to think quickly, so I said I’d left it in the safe keeping of Clive, and Mum seemed satisfied.
It might have been better to tell Mum the truth, for when I went to retrieve it from outside the chip shop it was, to my surprise and consternation, no longer there. A man in a black mac who was handing out leaflets commiserated with me, and suggested I inquire at the Police Station. Then he asked me if I’d had any other accidents recently. He seemed disappointed when I said that I hadn’t, not wishing to get Mum into further trouble by mentioning the trifling matter of my scalded wrists. He explained that all sorts of accidents befell people, especially paper boys, that were not their fault, and he worked for a company of solicitors that had great experience of finding people to blame so that victims of accidents, whether or not they were paper boys, could obtain Financial Redress.
What a Good Samaritan! With such a public-spirited attitude it is no wonder that he was out and about so early to do his soliciting. If there were more people like him, I thought to myself, then people would think twice about appropriating eg other people’s umbrellas for their own selfish ends. So I took some of his leaflets to show to Mum and other interested Parties.
Completed my morning round in record time, with no complaints, though this time it was I who nearly tripped up over that carelessly parked bicycle outside the porch of No 143 Bywater Street. I will drop a note through with tomorrow’s paper suggesting that more thoughtful parking of road vehicles in people’s drives would greatly reduce the number of incapacitated news media delivery executives forced to sue for loss of earnings.
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