Penny Black Stories

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"Oh! I've got just one small item, said the President. "I had a call from old Pip Jenkins last night. He's the new Federation President. Seems they're a bit stuck for somebody to organise the Federation's Annual Stamp Fair next year. Asked if we could help. I said we'd be delighted. Better get a sub-committee on the job ... eh ... what, what?"

There was a moment of stunned silence. All the members suddenly found a very interesting mark on the wooden table in front of them that demanded intense scrutiny.

"Any volunteers?" Asked the President.

I've never heard such silence on the part of our members before.

The Secretary was incautious enough to clear his throat and before you could say 'Machins' the President had put him in charge of the sub-committee.

The meeting broke up with no other 'volunteers' coming forward, and the members disappeared quickly with calls of 'have a good break' and 'see you in September'.

I wasn't quick enough in gathering up my handbag and coat, and the Secretary barred my way out of the meeting room.

"I can rely on your help can't I Penny?" He asked.

"Oh yes, I'll do what I can," I said.

I had no idea what I was letting myself in for.

A week later I had a note from the Secretary with a list of jobs to be done and the suggestion that if they were all to be completed in time for the Stamp Fair in the following Spring I'd better get a move on.

On the top of the list was the simple phrase 'find a suitable venue for a Saturday in April'. I rang him and asked what 'suitable' meant.

"A hall with about ten or twelve tables for the dealers to use, preferably with catering facilities ... and toilets of course. Oh, and room to put up about twenty frames for a small display ... and convenient for public transport of course ... and free of charge if possible ..."

I didn't pay much attention to the rest of what he said. I think he mentioned health and safety regulations, insurance, the need for stewards, somebody on the door to collect the admission money, flyers, publicity in the stamp journals, prizes for the raffle ... and sorry he couldn't help at the moment as he was off to Florida for a month ...

My head was in a whirl. Zombie-like I put the telephone down and walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. I spat it out in the sink when I found I'd made it with gravy powder by mistake! So I moved to the drinks' cabinet and poured myself a stiff brandy instead.

It slowly dawned on me that I was in charge of the arrangements for the Federation Stamp Fair and I only had ten months to do everything. I pulled myself up short - ten months was an age. No need to panic. Plenty of time. I relaxed.

The telephone rang. It was Pip Jenkins the new Federation President.

"Hello Miss Black ... Penelope isn't it? Mind if I call you that?"

"People call me Penny," I said.

"Penny ... yes of course ... Oh! I see ... Penny Black ... very good ..." He chuckled at the other end of the telephone. The humour of my name had long been a sore point so I just ignored it.

"What can I do for you?" I asked.

"Pete Withers tells me you're working on the Stamp Fair for next April. Just thought I'd better ring and remind you about the Blue Jacket."

I'd never been to one of the Federation's Stamp Fairs, so was blissfully unaware what the Blue Jacket was. I shouldn't have asked, but I did.

"Why, it's the Federation's very own posting box of course. It's an old round barrel painted blue in the shape of a buttoned up jacket. We use it to post our special event covers - I take it you've got that all organised with the Royal Mail ... sorry I must dash, there's somebody at the door. Bye!"

My period of relaxation was short lived. There was only one thing to do - panic!

I rang George. He was one of the members who had been very quiet at the meeting when volunteers had been called for. But he owed me a favour. I'd driven him to meetings for several months when he'd broken his arm and couldn't drive.

"Don't worry Penny," he said, as I blurted out my problems. "Sam will sort out the special postmark and arrange everything with the Royal Mail. And Clive will book the dealers and collect their money. Andrew always looks after the raffle, and his wife does the catering. Really all you have to do is find a suitable hall."

"What's suitable mean?" I ventured.

"We've used the Church Hall in the past. It's about the right size and it's got everything we need. Just give the vicar a ring and book it for a Saturday in April. But be quick it gets booked up for jumble sales and wedding receptions months in advance."

So I booked the Church Hall and sat back. The other tasks seemed to get done by magic. Maybe working at the bank had something to do with it. It's surprising how many people want cheap loans, and I just rang them up asking if they'd help with setting up the tables, or taking a turn on the door ...

On the day everything ran smoothly. There was only one hiccup. The church bell-ringers decided to practice just as the raffle prizes were being drawn and nobody could hear the numbers. It was a lot noisier than our Annual General Meeting when volunteers were called for!

Several people congratulated me on the way I had organised things. Pip Jenkins approached me as the team of helpers tidied up the rubbish at the end of the day.

"Well done Penny. It's the best Fair we've had for years. You must organise the one next year."

"You're joking," I said. Then I looked at his serious face. "You are joking aren't you?"