[rainy day] bike your worries away

There's a spiffing new way to do a blog post - I call it "doing an Angus" and it involves describing one's day, hopefully in a manner conducive to a wicked chuckle. Of course I could "do a Cherie" and include fabulous shots of the garden I just managed to slip out and visit but the lady has no peer in this so I'll leave it to her [did that get me enough Brownie points?]

So here goes:

On the way to the station, thence to my mate's place, it was Big Payout Day today. This involved going to a certain society and getting out half the pittance I have but heck - I'd prefer to have the gas, electricity and water than not have them, if you see what I mean. So, it was Big Payout Day today.

As the woman-behind-glass and I were joshing about how we don't even see our money these days - no sooner do we get it out than it goes on a utilities bill - she stopped and asked me, "So what exactly can I do for you, sir?"

"Er, £300 please."

"There's nothing outstanding here though."

"Well, that's a relief then."

"Pardon?"

"Well, I don't owe anything, as you say."

"No, no, there's nothing here next to your name. There's nothing in the account."

The next forty minutes were spent asking that if there was nothing in the account, why did a different woman give me some money in May when I came in to take some out? Why do I have this card if it doesn't mean anything?

She went out back for a coffee for twenty minutes. When she came back, it was, "Sorry 'bout that, Mr. Higham, how much was it for again?"

"Hold on. Please explain to me what just happened and if it's at all likely to happen to me again. " The latter question was, naturally, unanswerable.

"No, just a glitch in the system - it wasn't coming up. I've just been talking to the manager - he was here when you set up the account."

"You mean he's not here now? Who's manager now?"

"I am."

"So, let me get this right, Madam -"

"Rita."

"Rita. Let me get this right. If that ex-manager hadn't been there, if he'd left the company, if he'd been on holiday [and it is summer], I wouldn't have been able to access this money, which is miniscule in your eyes but for me is part-payment for two utilities? Correct me if I'm wrong."

"It just didn't come up on screen at first. Now how much were you needing, James?"

Back on my bike again, reflecting on our new friendship, next stop was the bank. As a multinational conglomerate from the land of the free, there'd be no glitches there.

"I'd like to pay in £100 please. There's a direct debit coming up."

"Er ... they've taken that already, Mr. Higham. There was £75 you'd left in the account and the direct debit was for £114."

"Well why did you pay them then if I didn't have the money?" Twelve years of Russia, where you don't get anything without the readies, caused me to say this.

She didn't answer that but informed me that there was a £40 charge on that, eight pounds a day. "Don't you have an overdraft?"

"No. I didn't even know I could on this account."

"Oh yes, you can, up to £400. You were probably told that when the account was set up. It was in the brochure you were given."

"I admit I didn't read the fine print of the brochure but then again, I was hardly expecting this little move to be made, was I? That's why I'm here today, to pay in £100 to cover it."

"Well, our manager is in today, he's over there." Second stroke of luck [or Whatever].

"Hello," I addressed the young man who seemed far too young for the role ... and I explained why I was peeved, concluding, "If you'd warned me about this, I'd have taken a small overdraft and set up a direct debit too. Will you set this up for me now please?"

Ten minutes later, out he came, the direct debit was set up and the penalty waived. What could I say? I gave him a big hug and kiss and skipped out of the door. Bicycling at breakneck pace round to the Paypoint, expecting the next chapter in the saga, I was into the place and out in 5.4 seconds, complete with receipt.

On the way back from the train station, fish and taties in my pack and all well with the world, the rain suddenly pelted down as I reached the top of our hill and was poised for the molecular fusion of the journey down the other side. A few metres down, pumping the brakes gingerly to see that they were working, I discovered that they weren't, that they, in fact, cease to function in the wet and it was only through the kind intervention of a lorry which decided to brake right in front of me and dazzle me with its yellow and black jaundiced zebra crossing paintwork that I managed to drop to an acceptable speed, though the face was slightly rearranged in the process.

So, all in all, a lot of fun was had by all today and we all lived happily ever after.