I had a go at writing my autobiography yesterday. It didn’t start off like that, but an hour later that was the result.

After receiving a quote from my car insurance provider, a number which I initially mistook for the National Debt of a medium-sized member of the UN, I decided it was time to take action. At over £800 it means I’m working for the best part of a month to cover the insurance, and that’s before tyres, fuel, car tax, MOT, servicing and all the other pleasures of car ownership.

To get a new quote I had to fill in a long and intrusive form about myself, followed by another for Julia. I noticed that not only do they seem to want more detail, but they seem to provide things as extras that used to be standard. It used to be enough, as I recall, to say you’d had a full license for 40 years – you didn’t have to search out the exact date.

It would have been quicker but I managed to wipe the form after doing three quarters of it and had to start again.

I managed to secure better cover and save nearly £400.

The moral of today’s post is that loyalty to an insurer does not pay.

It may be irritating to fill out the forms but it was worth it. I may worry a bit that the insurer is not as good as my previous one (as I did when changing breakdown cover) but insurers, when left to do their own thing, are generally not to be trusted with your money.

I used a picture of a Magpie because I was writing about insurance companies and couldn’t find a picture of a vulture.