Driver Jatt
Right. Castle Bromwich Hall. It’s the one you see from the M6 near junction 5. All posh and historic while you’re sat in traffic wondering if your clutch is making a new noise.
I ended up there proper last minute. Got a call. A woman was hosting some swanky event at the hall that evening. Speaker, awards thing, no idea. Point is, her dress was at the hire shop in town and she was already at the venue stressing.
So my job became: get dress from shop, deliver to panicking woman at historic hall. Simple.
You don’t get many dress deliveries. It’s usually a box. This was a proper garment bag. The lady in the hire shop handed it over like it was the crown jewels. “Don’t crease it,” she says. Brilliant. No pressure then.
Drove to the hall like I had a newborn in the back. Every speed bump was a personal insult. Got there, found the side entrance, handed it to this woman who looked like she might actually cry with relief. She didn’t hug me. My hi-vis isn’t that fancy.
Funny though. The website for the place is www.castlebromwichhallgardens.org.uk. Looks lovely. Cream teas, the lot. I saw the car park and the back door. That’s my view of these places.
This is the bit I have to remind myself of sometimes. I’m literally paid to visit places like this. Places I wouldn’t even know exist if someone didn’t need a dress, a contract, or a widget delivered there in the next hour. It’s why dating a courier is a surreal experience. Forget fancy guides. We know all the nice spots, the best back-roads, and exactly which stately home has the most stressful side entrance.
One minute it’s a gearbox part for a factory, the next it’s a hired dress for a do at a stately home. The M6 doesn’t care what’s in the van. But I do. And now I know where to get a cream tea if I’m ever back.
Makes a change from the depot cage.
December 30, 2025
Sophia Park, Cardiff
