The service-less bank

The visit to the service-less bank proved an even worse experience than anticipated. At first it seemed as if the statement issuing machines had been removed whereas, in fact, they had been replaced with new touchscreen machines in a different area of the impersonal foyer. Unfortunately, these machines will only print the on-screen section of the statement. Admittedly, it was possible to go further back, printing half empty sheets of each respective on-screen image but, I don't understand what was so wrong with the machines which served up a total list of all transactions since the previous statement.

It seems so obvious that banks, like most commercial ventures, are more concerned about streamlining, avoiding personal contact, and maximising profits for the fat-cat directors, rather than providing any kind of 'personal' service to 'ordinary' customers.

I've lost track of how many cosmetic re-vamps this branch of HSBC has undergone, in the past few years, wasting money (which could have been used to benefit their customers) on hollow fripperies! It must be some kind of tax break thing.

Bright and Lazy

A bright and mild morning faced me on my slow emergence from duvetdom and, I revelled in the delights of struggling into a bath in my own home! A further rest was required after this exertion, almost as if I’d been taking a shower. A traditional egg, bacon and black pudding breakfast was followed by the equally conventional Saturday morning/early afternoon lounge around, today in the company of ‘The NewsQuiz’ (Radio 4) and ‘It’s Been A Bad Week’ (Radio 2); I’d even found time, before that, to listen to Mark Lamarr with Joe Brand … a refreshing change in the usual Jonathon Ross slot (Radio 2).

Feeling quite venturesome, I might even pay a visit to my (service-free) bank to obtain a statement from one of the machines contained therein. I’ve not yet got around to online banking, preferring the more personal touch of an almost ‘real’ bank as opposed to the virtual kind. So, that’s today’s great adventure recorded in advance of the actual event.

Bright and Lazy

A bright and mild morning faced me on my slow emergence from duvetdom and, I revelled in the delights of struggling into a bath in my own home! A further rest was required after this exertion, almost as if I’d been taking a shower. A traditional egg, bacon and black pudding breakfast was followed by the equally conventional Saturday morning/early afternoon lounge around, today in the company of ‘The NewsQuiz’ (Radio 4) and ‘It’s Been A Bad Week’ (Radio 2); I’d even found time, before that, to listen to Mark Lamarr with Joe Brand … a refreshing change in the usual Jonathon Ross slot (Radio 2).

Feeling quite venturesome, I might even pay a visit to my (service-free) bank to obtain a statement from one of the machines contained therein. I’ve not yet got around to online banking, preferring the more personal touch of an almost ‘real’ bank as opposed to the virtual kind. So, that’s today’s great adventure recorded in advance of the actual event.

Personal Hygiene As A Torture Regime

Being without a bath or shower facility, my beloved arranged an alternative venue where we may partake of such luxuries. As an idea it was quite wonderful but, the reality is best forgotten.

The bath was either half or three-quarters of the size of what I had misguidedly assumed was the norm. The hand-held shower device was situated beneath the sloping roof of the terrace house. Being unable to adjust the shower-head to an appropriate temperature, or work out how it could be used other than from a seated position, formal bathing was decided upon.

My joints, being the semi-inflexible source of current spasmodic discomfort, were instantly traumatized by the experience but, I must admit it felt nice to have water splashing upon the torso. The real delights occurred as I tried to remove myself from the washtub.

The difficulty encountered when moving, from a seated with legs (of necessity) bent position, into the appropriate semi upright position required to remove ones-self from the bathing receptacle, is almost beyond description. My beloved’s (reasonable sounding) suggestion that I turn onto my knees was taken on board, thwarted only by the restraints of the washtub’s width. Visions of emergency services being called, to remove me, were at the forefront of one’s mind. [The time is none too distant since they had to rescue me from the stairs in my own home].

Eventually, I managed to overcome the resistance of back, arm and leg muscles (and the pertinent joints) to perform my own deliverance!

Normal Service May Be Resumed ... One Day!

My genial (?) disposition is beginning to wear a bit thin and, I’ve not yet hit the start date for my quitting smoking regime. The house is currently without a bath or shower and, the bathroom is still sans washbasin. That old bugbear ‘fatigue’ is walloping me with a vengeance, even after a good night’s sleep last night.

The tiling of the bathroom had to be called off, with the workmen’s sudden realization that the walls required a little more plaster! Unlike my better half, I don’t have the energy reserves to have, or even to contemplate having, an all-over wash at the washbasin in the front bedroom midst the upheaval's extraneous clutter.

Everything seems to be out of kilter; with my great-niece’s first birthday coming up this weekend we couldn’t even find one of my two address books to post off her special birthday card. My beloved managed to find one of them after a stressful search through our combi-clutter.

Perhaps some of the stress will ease a little when we once more have a functioning bathroom! The last couple of years have seen the addition of Warm Roof insulation and the consequent moving of the trapdoor, floor and storage units installed in the loft, a complete new dampcourse and subsequent redecoration of the main ground floor rooms. The hallway and kitchen still display their proud dampcourse wounds, some eighteen months after they were perpetrated. A new pond was also installed in the garden.

Perhaps one day normality will return but, energy reserves ... well, that’s a different matter.

Grating Anticipations

Today is the day for the new lower ceiling to be installed in the bathroom and, already I’ve had an extremely restless night in anticipation of the disruption. It will also be the day when the new bath is installed. It’s just as well we have a washbasin in the front bedroom as the bathroom is currently sans such a utility.

I have every faith in the workmen performing the transformation; the major problem is my current inability to cope with any changes to my ‘familiar’ environment. Never thought there would come a day when I became Malcolm the conservative!

I know at some point the electricity, as well as the water, will have to be turned off so it’s pretty much a case of “gather ye rosebuds while ye may”.

In comes the plumber, out goes the psychiatrist

This morning the plumber arrived, to commence work on the bathroom; unfortunately the bath didn’t, so today has been primarily a day of dismantling. The van from Ideal Standard forgot to unload the bath although all the ‘pottery’ is available.

Hopefully the new bath and shower will be installed tomorrow. Found it hard to settle during the night, in anticipation of the disruption, although after an earlier false alarm did fall back to sleep until around 8.45am.

Kept an appointment with the psychiatrist this afternoon and, he confirmed that he didn’t think I had any mental health problem and, definitely no depression. What complex psychosomatic beings we are ... albeit I’m relieved to be more somatic than psycho! So, no more appointments.

Inflation : The High Cost of Getting Lost

The letter box goes “clunk” and, lo and behold … “Santa’s Christmas Gift Collection”, a catalogue from comet, has been delivered.

On page 9, a satellite navigation pack is advertised and, the text reads, “never get lost again for under £200!”

does this mean that, in future, it will cost far more, for any one of us, to get lost?

Atonement

Concentration not being what it used to be, I don't get around to much reading these days but, I have become enthused by a recent collection of essays tackling "the myth of redemptive violence" and the (erroneous) Christian doctrine of "penal substitution". It is very much a book dealing with the existential, social & political implications of the Gospel.

Title: "Consuming Passion : Why the killing of Jesus really matters"

Profits before People ... the old, old story

Drink giants' plans to fuel binge Britain · £20,000 bonuses for pub managers who exceed targets · Staff race to sell more shots

I find this ‘story’ in today’s Observer particularly disturbing (especially in the light of my recent posting regarding alcoholism/alcohol abuse).