Trials and tribulations of a typical family

Understatement of the year coming up - it has been a difficult time for the family recently.

Bil S (brother-in-law) was diagnosed with cancer last autumn and a few weeks ago received the news that he was clear after bouts of chemo and radiotherapy plus an operation.

He celebrated in style – by ordering a new car. That’s the way to do it.

He called one Thursday evening to tell us the news and, as you can imagine, we were pretty delighted.

Then the phone went early the following (Friday) morning. It was Bil D (my other favourite brother-in-law) to tell us that the hospital had telephoned and Sil P (sister-in-law) had been called in for her ……… liver transplant.

P went into the theatre at 1.30pm that day and was out at 12.30am – yep, an eleven-hour operation. Ten days on she is doing really well, touch wood and other inanimate objects, and should have an incredible new lease of life.

Clearly she faces a lengthy spell of recuperation (up to six weeks in hospital) but should then be able to spend some balmy family holiday evenings in the Algarve without wearing two fleeces while yours truly is in shorts and tee-shirt.

P’s condition had been kept under control for the past 30 years (she was told then that her liver might last for 15 years) by drugs and she has borne the illness with good grace and incredible stoicism.

It is still a fairly tense time but things are looking good. P went on the transplant waiting list last autumn and was told not to travel more than two hours away from the hospital as the call could come at any time.

That made life difficult – no holidays, no visiting the grandchildren who live in the south west of England etc.

Anyway, we are off to see P again today and hopefully will find a parking space at the hospital a little quicker than we did on Friday.

Mind you, it would help if people didn’t park so selfishly, like the owner of this Beemer (right).

I wonder if he paid double the parking fee?

What a Muppet.

Anti-smoking initiative gets right up my nose

People in Brighton could soon be stopped from smoking on the beach.

The city's council met yesterday (Tuesday, July 21) to decide whether there should be a public consultation on making parks and beaches smoke-free zones.

At the moment, there's already a voluntary ban on smoking in children's playgrounds in Brighton.

One of the local councillors, Daniel Yates said: "We're keen to keep people safe from the effects of smoking in public areas, especially children who are most vulnerable."

Good. So how about going the whole hog and keeping us all safe from loud music, eating, drinking or children wailing?

Or maybe a compromise is segregated beaches – social lepers left, on that 20 foot by 20 foot bit of sand by the sewage outlet, all others to the right?

Yes, I am a smoker but one who tries to be understanding of other people.

I even have two small pocket ashtrays that mean if I go outside someone’s house/ pub/ village hall etc. I can puff away without leaving a butt.

Clearly we smokers have a duty to be considerate. None of us can deny the harmful effects.

But a whiff of smoke on a windy day at Brighton beach? Come on, get real.

We used to be such a tolerant society but if we are not careful we’ll be homogenised and pasteurised into a bunch of clones.

Then the do-gooders will start on books (just watch them burn, children), dvds (anyone for a game of Frisbee?) etc.

Still, I’ll be able to continue smoking in my house. That is until the day the trucks screech into my road and the booted local council officials march up our drive to take me away to that nice holiday camp in Thetford Forest.

PS – what a bunch of amateurs in this year’s Open at St. Andrews. I finished the four rounds at 76 under, having posted scores of 54 (-18) on Thursday, 55 (-17) on Friday, 51 (-21) on Saturday/ Sunday (the wind did affect my round a little early on but conditions improved when I closed the kitchen window) and 52 (-20) on Monday. I love my iPad.

Fine example of keeping government in check

It’s not often I feel moved to praise our MPs but good on you, David Davis and Tom Watson.

They have won a High Court battle over a law which they say allows the police and security services to "spy on citizens" without proper safeguards.

The government said it "disagreed absolutely" with the court's ruling and would seek to appeal. No surprise there, then.

But Davis, a former Conservative minister and Watson, a civil liberties campaigner who is standing to be Labour's deputy leader, backed by campaign group Liberty, argued the Data Retention and Investigatory Powers Act was “incompatible with human rights”.

The Act was fast-tracked through Parliament last July, allowing security agencies to gather phone and internet data if they ask for permission…..from themselves.

Bonkers, I know. You really couldn’t make it up.

Two High Court judges today found that the act is "inconsistent with EU law" and the ruling effectively nullifies aspects of the legislation, although that order has been suspended until next March.

Now I have no problem with MFI, or whatever our security services are now known as, seeking approval to check emails, texts and phone calls if they have reason (and it must be a very good reason) to believe our national security is at risk.

But that approval MUST come from an independent person or body.

Democracy is a great thing but only with checks and balances.

BT UPDATE NO. 48d

My reader will recall that my letter of complaint to BT about the shabby way they treated my bereaved mother-in-law was sent by recorded delivery on June 25.

Having still had no acknowledgement by Tuesday this week (July 14), I decided to go to the top.

An email to BT’s Chief Executive elicited a response within hours – and settlement by today (Friday, July 17).

OK, it was disappointing that they asked me to email my letter (or book as I prefer to call it) again but hey ho, no-one’s perfect.

The successful conclusion included the utterance of that seemingly awfully difficult word – sorry – a refund of the installation cost of moving the line (I won’t bore you with the technical details they tried to regale me with) and six months free BT phone service.

It was tempting to hold out for a better deal but at the end of the day it was closure that was really wanted – and someone to acknowledge their inefficiency and ineptitude.

So thank you, Sam at BT, for having the dangly bits to do so during our phone calls today.

I’ll believe it when I see it – or read the Mail

Have you heard the one about the bank taskforce being set up to help grieving families, enabling people to cancel a loved one’s accounts “in a single step”?

Apparently the “Tell Us Once” service is the brainchild of the Daily Mail (yes, really) and it has been taken up by the British Bankers Association working with the Building Societies Association.

Now more bosses from Britain’s biggest firms have written to the Mail to show their support. This includes BT, whose chief executive of Consumer, John Petter, waxed lyrical:

“We understand that dealing with a bereavement can be extremely distressing and upsetting. We have a specialist customer service team here in the UK who can help during this difficult time to either transfer or stop a BT account, and are keen to see how this can be integrated with the Tell Us Once service.”

Well, I can vouch that transferring an account (from joint names to single) works efficiently. That happened to Mil after Fil’s death in May.

Unfortunately, that’s all that was efficient. Asking for anything more than that, e.g. switching a phone line from one room to another in a care home, appears to be beyond their level of competency.

And if BT “understands that dealing with a bereavement can be extremely distressing and upsetting” why have they not, to date, acknowledged the complaint sent on behalf of Mil more than two weeks ago?

We don’t expect them to resolve the complaint in such a short period of time but a letter/ text/ phone call/ email saying they had received it would be nice.

It was interesting that among the “bosses from Britain’s biggest firms” there was no comment from Santander.

This is the company that, on deleting Fil from the joint accounts he and Mil held with it, also deleted all the details of the lasting powers of attorney it had recorded.

This now leaves no LPA on the accounts. And guess what their initial response was?

They gave us some new forms to fill in i.e. suggesting the three LPAs who had jumped through these particular hoops more than three years ago would have to repeat the exercise.

Needless to say, IDGOM has initiated another complaint.
PS - I would like to thank IDGOM reader JS of Chichester for getting in touch. And I thought I needed to get out more.

Professional squawkers are tough on the ears

Wow, what a match. I just have to share this experience with my reader.
Serena Williams started strongly, smashing an unstoppable grunt.
Victoria Azarenka replied with a strong howl, which was matched by a high-pitched squawk by Wiiliams.
But Azarenka held her nerve and a delicate squeak sealed the first set.
Williams found a bit of form early in the second set and despite a brave groan from Azarenka, she hit a couple of unplayable roars and snarls, including one 103mph yelp, to edge ahead.
Azarenka had to call for the trainer midway through the second set following what looked like a really uncomfortable growl, but was able to carry on, serving up a majestic gasp followed quickly by a straightforward hoot.
Williams, however, was beginning to get on top and responded with a couple of game-winning shrieks and screams to put pressure on Azarenka.
We were then treated to the longest rally of the set, with the two women matching each other in shrillful fashion - a yap from Williams was met with a caw from Azerenka before a strong bellow was just too good for Azarenka, who could only reply with a weak bark.
Williams now smelt blood and dished up a quite remarkable cackle. Azarenka responded with a half-hearted whoop but could not stop Williams edging ahead as she smashed down a magnificent screech, which the baying crowd greeted with an almighty yell.
What happened next I don't recall. I went for a lie down in a very dark room.

Let’s all do the Suffolk Hokey Cokey

You see some funny sights in our part of deepest Suffolk.

Like pheasants trying to outrun cars or pigeons head-butting bird feeders to knock seeds to the ground and then struggling to find their ill-gotten gains.

But perhaps the weirdest is the SHC (Suffolk Hokey Cokey), a very common occurrence, I believe, across not only East Anglia but the South West and Scotland as well.

It must seem like a very strange ritual to the city grockles as they wind their weary way down our quiet country lanes, looking for the Bella Vista B&B in Barningham or some such establishment.

It involves doing what at first sight looks like a strange fertility dance in the middle of a garden – one arm stretched out, waving gently backwards and forwards, side to side, in the air above the head while continually shifting position.

A sort of Morris dance for the permanently bewildered.

Or it can be a more relaxed version with an arm suddenly appearing out of an upstairs bedroom window, manically swaying backwards and forwards, up and down.

So what on earth, I hear my reader ask, is the SHC? Well, it’s the only way us country bumpkins can try to get a mobile phone signal.

How to make a mobile phone call in Suffolk.

You put your left arm up, your left arm down, you do the hokey cokey and you turn around – and if you are really, really lucky, one tiny little bar will appear on your signal meter.

But hurry, you have to strike while the iron is hot – that bar will disappear as quickly as it came.

Now I’m not normally one to moan but it does drive me to distraction the way mobile service providers spout incredibly misleading stats.

We cover 95% of the UK, they say if you ask about their coverage. A bit of panto time coming up – Oh, no you don’t.

You may cover 95% of the population but of the UK – no way, Jose. Yet you make us pay the same as our town and city cousins.

Frustratingly, a lot seems to depend on which village you live in and, I guess, how receptive residents are to having mobile phone masts erected in their little part of rural paradise.

I couldn’t believe it this morning when, while sitting having coffee in the brother-in-law’s garden a few miles up the road, I glanced at my phone and saw five bars on the old serviceOmeter.

What a shame that I didn’t want to use the phone at that particular moment.

Perhaps it’s time for the UK to adopt a fine practice from Portugal, where, rather cunningly, they disguise mobile phone masts as trees.

I’m off now to the end of our drive to watch the weekly bus swing past. And people say I don’t get out much.