11/02/2026
**The Ballad of Steven Carson Parcels**
From misty **Oban** town to **Inverness** fair,
There’s a rumble of vans in the cool Highland air.
Not thunder, not cattle, not Nessie in motion—
It’s *Steven Carson Parcels*, on delivery devotion.
They carry the mighty, the boxed and the stacked,
From wee jiffy bags to full pallets packed.
If it rattles, or wobbles, or says “THIS WAY UP,”
They’ve already launched it in the back of the truck.
For **Gael Force** gear and soaps posh and grand,
From the Highland Soap folks with bubbles so planned,
If it smells like a spa or looks built for a boat,
These lads have hauled ten before you cleared your throat.
There’s **Tony** up front with his tea in a flask,
Driving like “Aye, reversing? An easy wee task.”
**Robert** knows shortcuts no sat-nav has seen,
Down roads that look more like a sheep’s daydream.
**Jim** stacks pallets with forklift finesse,
Like Tetris, but sweatier, wearing a hi-vis vest.
**Grahame** checks labels with eagle-eye sight,
“That's Fort William, pal — unless maps changed last night.”
And **Steven**? The legend. The parcel king boss.
Can balance three boxes while eating a sausage roll, no loss.
He signs on the scanner with lightning-fast thumbs,
Then vanishes off ‘fore the next shipment comes.
**Donna.**
Calculator queen. Spreadsheet boss.
If paperwork wanders, it knows it is lost.
Drivers appear like schoolkids in line:
“Donna, my wages?” — “Aye, filled in the time?”
Invoices paid, the accounts all aligned,
She runs the whole place with a look and a mind.
Without her, the vans would just sit there and stall—
The Highland logistics *actual* wall.
Through sideways rain and the wind’s mighty roar,
Past lochs that look calm then suddenly pour,
They deliver, they hustle, they laugh, they prevail—
The true tartan titans of logistics and mail.
So raise up a mug (of tea, obviously),
To the fleet of the north and their van-based dynasty.
If your package arrives and the timing seems prime,
Thank Steven Carson Parcels — right place, right time. 🚚✨
