Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Why do things always have to be so difficult?

I go out with my daughter,Leyna, this morning to help her sort things out ready for her well deserved holiday with friends to Spain on the weekend. She wants to withdraw £650.00 from her building society account. She hardly ever uses this account, so we are surprised when the clerk tells her she can only take out £100.00 today.

Leyna says, "Well how come I was allowed to take out £500.00 a couple of years ago?"

To which the lady replies, "We've changed our policy since then."

I say, "But she needs the money today to get it converted into Spanish currency for her holiday."

The clerk says the best she can come up with is to pay Leyna a cheque for the full amount and then I will have to pay this into my bank account and give her the money myself.

Leyna says, "But I'm eighteen why can't I have the money?"

To which the clerk replies, "Because this is classed a child's account, you will have to change it."

How frustrating. So we accept the cheque and trot off to the bank. I write a paying in slip for the cheque and hand it to the teller. I say, "I'd like to pay in this cheque for £650.00. I have enough money in the account to cover it.

"To which the teller replies, "Do you have any identification on you as I don't know you?"

I reply, "Yes, all my bank cards.""No good."Double frustration.

She carries on, "Would anyone else in here know you?"

As luck would have it, I recognise a teller from the foreign desk who has cashed American cheques for me in the past, although it was a long time ago I remember a conversation we had about writing. She had seemed impressed that I was earning money for it.

"Do you recognise me?" I ask in frustration. "I'm the writer who used to pay cheques into you."

She screws up her eyes and I almost scream at the thought of getting no where. But wait a minute, there is a flicker of recognition.

"Yes, I do recognise you," she smiles. "I remember you told me about that website for my writer friend. She writes short stories." Then she launches into my favourite subject whilst the teller who was serving me doles outs 650 big ones. Success at last. We take the money to the travel agency and convert it into euros and travellers cheques. Leyna and I are happy.

* * *

This afternoon, I notice Milly the sheepdog has gone missing. Nathan has left the front door open. I can see her across the road, but she doesn't respond to my calls. When she finally returns she is covered in cow dung. Why do dogs always roll in that stuff?Now I have to wash her with the hosepipe and shampoo, something she hates.

She gets her own back though, by shaking herself all over me. Then, when I remove her collar [she has been tethered to the tap by her lead and collar] as I need to clean it, she makes a run for it again. I worry that maybe she has gone to rub in the yucky stuff again, but luckily she turns up later still clean. I on the other hand, have had to wash myself down and change my clothing!

It's one of those days!

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