Small Town Life

Dronfield Delivery Office: Where Post Goes to Die.

Dronfield Delivery Office

If, like me, you get a lot of packages (suspicious packages) delivered during the day, you have more than likely experienced the Dronfield Delivery Office. I’ve had trips to Poland with less morbid undertones. 

Once upon a time, I bought a Sonic Screwdriver. This is where my journey started. I got home. I looked through the post, as you may imagine, a package the size of a shoe-box did not make it through my novice, European standard, envelope-size-C4-fitting letter box. What I was left with was a note, which read:

Your package is being held captive. The ransom is your time and effort, it will be both humiliating and degrading. We are only open when we can be bothered. Good luck!

Or at least something to that effect, on a very amateur, flimsy red slip. It directed me to the lesser-known part of the Industrial world: Further up Callywhite Lane.

Upon my arrival, I rang the bell (which apparently, emits a sound outside the hearing range of the standard Post Office worker), and 15 minutes later a man arrived. He informed me that he had been “in the back, doing stuff” which naturally, I imagined was code for shirking off and catching up with the latest series of Breaking Bad. Breaking Bad is a great series; I would recommend it, on the condition you don’t watch it when people need to pick up their novelty Dr Who paraphernalia.

To cut a long story short, my package hadn’t yet been delivered to the delivery office, it was still in a van somewhere. I collected it the next day; the sonic screwdriver itself was badly made and I had immediate buyers remorse.

If you have had a similar experience with the delivery office, I implore you to leave a comment below.



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