Postman to Priest

Memories

Postman to Priest

Today I am a priest, for nearly 29 years I have been

I was a postman once, in a uniform new and pristine

Back in the day, I had left comprehensive education at sixteen

I played football at school, I was very quiet, rarely seen

Work came quickly, after an interview of sorts, I got a job

it was good, exiting, intoxicating, a chance to earn a few bob

I was called a Postal Cadet, only at 18 would I be a postman

I enjoyed the routine, quietly working, becoming a man,

those louder new recruits with too much to say,

ended up trussed up in a grey sack, on the way to town,

or somewhere, who knew, secure in the back of a spare post van!

Health and safety took a back seat back then!

I was quiet growing up, and quiet now, enjoying a life with little fuss

I signed up on a walk, in Moseley Village, arriving each day on the 50 bus

Daily, at 5 00 am I attended Howard Road, parked at fitting number six

Sitting next to old Alan, a postal veteran who enjoyed his Weetabix…

Or so the front of his post office issue jumper often revealed,

We chatted about the mighty Villa, while sorting letters, signed and sealed

The post bag was heavy

Too much for me to carry

So it was split in two, it got heavier when it rained, lighter when warmer

Half way on my round, I picked up that second bag at the garage on the corner

On Tindall Street, during a delivery walk, I met a lady of the night

Though it was afternoon, she gave me quite a fright

“I will take you home with me,

give you a good time and afterwards a cup of tea,

but only” she said “if you have a Giro cheque in that bag for me!”

As an innocent teen, I didn’t know what she could mean,

I was not thirsty, so I declined her kind offer,

I think in all honesty my knees were quaking,

I could hear her laughing, as she passed from my sight!

One year later, uniform free

I met that young lady again

on the same street, this time at night

when I was working with the Legion of Mary,

this time I provided the cup of tea, and she politely thanked me.

I delivered letters on Park Hill Road, Augusta Road East,

onto George Street, in sunny Balsall Heath,

it was here I discovered my vocation

Stopping daily at St John and Martin

A midday Mass, perfect for my round to finish

I found a place on a church bench

lightened by years of devotion and wood polish

The Holy Ghost Fathers ran the parish,

and encouraged my fledgling prayer life to flourish

I left the post office in August 1986

walking through the doors of Oscott Seminary, in early September

I am grateful I worked for three years as a postman, a time I fondly remember.

Fr Patrick Brennan 2021 ©