With a sharp rise in online shopping due to lockdown, what's life like for our postmen these days?
His Lawn, Sweeney Rounds Mc James On With Postman In Pat City Writer Cork Fitzpatrick Green
People keep a close eye on James McSweeney’s legs.
I use them as a weather forecast on the school run every morning, when we run into him on his postal route around Ballyphehane. You can forget about met.ie — as long as James has his legs out in a pair of An Post cargo shorts, we’re going to be alright. If James is wearing his long pants, it’s going to be cold, with the possibility of rain.
His legs are out when I join him on his route, on one of those dank, foggy mornings in late October that could go either way. “The fog will lift, don’t worry about it,” he tells me as he delivers to the row of houses at the top of Tory Top Rd.
“I can smell the rain when it’s coming. I wear the shorts as long as it’s in the double digits — once it goes below 10 degrees, I go for the long pants.”
The postman isn’t just another delivery man who rocks up in a van. James is part of people’s morning, five days a week, signalling the weather with his legs, bringing a familiar smile and burst of chat to anyone who opens the door.
A mother gives a quick "Hi" as she signs for a package with three kids hanging off her; an older woman in her dressing gown opens the window upstairs and tells him she’s still waiting for a package; there are waves in the window at elderly people in lockdown, their hands wrapped around the first cup of tea of the day.
James McSweeney reminds me of . All of us who grew up watching in the 70s have the song 'Who Are the People in Your Neighbourhood?' etched into our brains. I liked it because it had a simple tune and the puppets looked funny.
Both of course, was always trying to turn us into better citizens as well, which is probably why Donald Trump hates it. So looking back at it now, 'Who Are The People In Your Neighbourhood?' was telling us that communities don’t just happen — they are made by the people who live in them.
A lot has changed since the 1970s, but a postman or postwoman still knits your neighbourhood together, particularly now that the Covid winter is here and loads of us are spending too much time cooped up at home.
James McSweeney is one of those people who brings good times around with him. A local boy from Ballyphehane, he knows everyone and everything. (Forget about estate agents and the property price register, James is your only man if you need to find out how much a house sold for in the area. He even told me about a house that would be on the market soon, that’s how good he is.)
We follow his route down towards the Kinsale Rd, as he exchanges a short word on the weather with a couple of regulars. Does he have these chats every day?
"You'd have a lot of elderly people, they'd come out and have a kind word for you, a bit of banter, a bit of small talk, they mightn't see someone for the rest of the day”, he says, sorting out the mail for the next house as he walks. “On occasion, it can be that they're waiting for me, yeah, especially the people who live on their own. I suppose the postman is a friendly face, isn't it?”
Does he ever worry about older people on the route? “As the years tick on, you build up a rapport with people, you get to know them on a personal level," he says. "If you didn't see someone for a while, who you’d normally see, say, running an errand, I might say it to another neighbour.
"There was a lady in this park, I didn't see her active for a while, I brought it to the attention of another neighbour, they put my mind at rest. You'd keep an eye on things.
“I'd know everyone personally. I'd run into them at some stage, I'd know they'd be friendly with the neighbour or someone across the road where I can leave the package, that's all very well understood. You wouldn’t be doing it if you were a new fella on a run.”
He’s a good looking guy. I’m dying to ask him if ever got a come-on from a woman on his route, but I chicken out because I don’t know him well enough, so I ask if he gets many people coming to the door in a state of undress. The answer is more than once, judging by the look on his face.
Did you ever come across a party, I ask. “Not for the longest time, no?”
Would you be inclined to go in?
"I never got the invite! I used to deliver up the northside, there was a lot of younger people living up there, but this is a quieter area."
I asked him if he ever reckoned he might have interrupted something when he called to a house. “Jesus, I hope not,” he says, and I stop asking him schoolboy questions about randy postmen.
What about dogs? "I have no issue on this delivery. Other postmen — it's a nightmare. People leave their dogs out. I remember having a problem with cats — you put your letter through the letterbox, the cats are inside going for your fingertips."
It’s alright for me, rocking up at 8.45am after dropping the kids to school, to walk around with James for a while. He’s been on the go for hours by then.
“I watch the at night and then I call it a day — I’d normally set my alarm for half-four the following morning. Frustratingly enough, I’d wake about six then at the weekends.”
He works the route, aiming to pick up his kids from school at 2.30pm. Does he get tired during the day? "I'd collect the kids, go home, make a bit of lunch, do the homework, I'd get a bit of a lull period alright then, and perk up again at tea time.”
For all the snippets of chat along the route, a lot of his working day is spent alone. Does he mind that?
“I enjoy a bit of banter more than others. There's a great craic inside before we go out on our routes. There's some mornings we'd be sorting our mail at our individual benches, but we can talk to each other, and the banter is so good, you don't want to tie up your bag and go out, on your own. A lot of fellas listen to podcasts, radio while they’re out, but I find them a bit of a hindrance. I enjoy the chat, if you have headphones, you're cutting people out.”
Still, the exercise is good. “So far today I've done 9.83km, on average a day I'd do 14.5km”, he tells me. “If I do overtime, take out a van and do another route, you're touching on 20km or 22km a day. But then when it comes to Saturday and Sunday, I don't do anything in terms of exercise.” Probably no need, in fairness.
I ask him how the job has changed with the advent of online shopping. “It has gone very busy with the shopping online thing, that's very noticeable inside. I’d do about 50% packages now.
According to Anna McHugh of An Post, lockdown has had a seismic effect on their business.
“An Post has been handling Christmas levels of parcels since April!”, she tells me, via email.
“That's more than one million parcels a week going through our mail system. And now we have what we call the Christmas Peak, growing every day. We are seeing unprecedented levels of parcels, mostly related to online shopping, but also more parcels being sent between friends and families at home and abroad.”
This isn’t a good year to go for some last-minute present-posting, according to Anna.
“We are encouraging people to organise their Christmas gifting and posting earlier this year to allow for the impact of Covid restrictions such as reduced air freight capacity, on top of the usual weather conditions worldwide. There's no need for panic, just that customers get their parcels ready for posting a little earlier this year, most particularly those being posted to international addresses. Cards and packages from home will be even more important this year, with travel restricted. Also, it's best to allow for more time for shopping from Irish and international e-tailers to be delivered.”
James and I are finished with Tory Top Road now, and have crossed to the gaggle of estates on the far side of the Kinsale Road. I read once that someone sent a letter addressed, ‘Rob Heffernan & Family, Gold Medal Winner, Cork’, and it made it to the walking star’s home on Leeside. I ask James if they get much of that.
“You would, especially at Christmas time, when people don't write to each other on a regular basis, you might get a letter addressed to David Such and Such, Ballyphehane. Very vaguely addressed. I might have an idea of it, if not then, it might do the rounds, or I’d go up to the other fella who does Ballyphehane. You'd go the extra mile.”
Two identical ginger kittens are padding along with us as James breaks off and walks around a house to drop a package in the back door — he knows the guys who live there and they tend to work nights, so he doesn’t want to wake them. Again, it’s all very , in a good way.
It made more work for him, but James got a kick out of the An Post initiative during the last lockdown, where they issued free postcards to encourage people to stay in touch. "I'm telling you Pat, it would warm the heart to see what people were writing. You couldn't help but read it, especially when there were grandchildren missing their grandparents. It was fantastic.”
An Post is lining up another community-based initiative for this lockdown, according to Anna McHugh. “With the shorter, darker days, we will be doing all we can to keep people connected within local communities. We are also encouraging local schools to get involved in writing to nursing homes in their locality.”
I’m nearly at the end of my walkabout with James. We chat about Liverpool, Manchester United, our kids, how it’s not worth boozing at the weekend any more, the hangovers aren’t worth it. He’s easy company, the people on his route are lucky to have him.
A dog barks, but he’s not worried. "That's only a bark. You'd know from experience. This area is an older generation, it's quiet and settled. They would be more open to chat, they're very warm kind of people to talk to, and sociable.” We call to a regular, Tom.
“That big smile that he gives you, it would do you good”, says Tom, who comes out with a beaming smile of his own, that reminds me of my own dad. (Honestly, it would do you good to walk around at 10am and see all the smiles and goodwill when we’re all supposed to be miserable under the cosh of Covid-19.)
I ask would he offer James a cup of tea. “Oh God no”, replies Tom with a laugh. “He’d stay too long then.” Cork people like to give with one hand and take with the other.
“I'd be waiting for a letter, and I'd see James over there talking to someone and I'd be: 'Would he ever hurry up!',” Tom adds, that smile still in place.
“That's the northsider coming out in me!” says James. “Full of guff. But it's nice to be nice.”