SOME things just never change. It was in 1981 that our last editor but two suggested I might tackle what he called the medieval attitude of the public utilities in expecting women to be at home all day.

Mrs Editor had dutifully stayed in one morning for a call "between 8am and noon" - or 12 noon as they put it, as if noon might decide to happen at half past one for a bit of variety.

When no-one arrived by noon, she popped out for a few minutes. It was inevitable that she went back to find a card of the "we called and were unable to gain access...please telephone..." variety on the doormat.

It struck a chord with me at that time, as we'd just survived a year-long battle of endless appointments with workmen who didn't arrive during the specified time, on the right day or even at all and, when we'd miraculously got everything together, they'd brought the wrong part.

It was sorted, as these things often are, by a letter to the area head honcho which probably blistered the varnish on his desk but somehow united us, workmen and the right part at last.

The echo of that chord reverberated across the years and down my telephone line when the visitor I was expecting explained that he might not arrive. He was expecting a parcel by courier but had just been told he'd have to wait in as they couldn't specify a time, not even am or pm.

Ha. So now there's sex equality in the stay at home stakes at any rate.

"The gas" and "the electric" have got better over the years, but the rise of the courier has ensured medievalism survives.

Sorry, I replied, but I couldn't ferry round to him the stuff he was to collect from me as I was in the same boat, but I'd been promised, by the package sender, that the courier would call before midday.

Come 1.30, no package, and I was due at my desk at 2pm. I rang the sender. No problem, delivery would be rearranged for "after 6pm tomorrow".

When we got in from work the next day, well before 6pm, there was a card, with the time of delivery marked as 2.40, saying our package had been left next door.

We were soon able to return the compliment. Next door went on holiday and, going in to feed their cat, we found a card recording non-delivery of a perishable parcel. So we retrieved it from the parcels office, and potted up the 20 giant fuchsias which were not supposed to arrive until this week, a fortnight after the neighbours' return.

Why is keeping promises such a problem?

I've lost count of unmet delivery times, with senders also to blame at times - and I only work part-time. We also had to block the gap between the top of our double gates and the carport roof to stop parcels being lobbed over, after one actually marked "fragile" hit the concrete floor behind.

When will the commercial world ever catch up with the fact that an awful lot of houses don't have anyone to answer the door during the day?

It would be worth a surcharge to know that goods would definitely be delivered after 6pm and, surely, an improved rate of delivery on the first call would save money.

In all fairness, it isn't just faceless firms which are "medieval", as I found when I had to dash to the post office at the last minute on the last day of the month (yes, I'd been waiting for a package which didn't arrive and couldn't go to get my own parcel weighed and stamped until Sir came in).

The queue was all male and way out of the door, with every last one taxing his car. Joining the queue behind me, a white-haired woman grumbled: "Why do they have to do it on their way home from work? They should get their wives to do it in the morning!"