Tag Archives: red tape

Henry VI, Part 2.

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It’s soup made from tinned tomatoes tonight, my new go-to soup.  Quick, cheap and tasty, what more could you want? After a lunch of junk food it seemed the sensible thing to do. Julia’s teeth are now positively gleaming and her eyes are 100% tested so she’s good for another year. And me, I’m almost porous. I have so many holes in my arms I could almost be a colander.

I would tell you about everything I’ve done this afternoon, but I didn’t really do anything.  Several TV programmes and some snoring doesn’t constitute activity.

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My copy birth certificate came through yesterday – it was a bit of a shock, as it came in an official brown envelope with a red/pink covering letter. For a moment, it looked very threatening. I need it for proof of my ID when claiming my private pension.  It’s not a very onerous form of identification as it’s a available to anyone who wants it. Fortunately, I don’t suppose their are many people looking for a moderate pension. It’s a nice surprise for someone who wasn’t expecting much, but it’s not going to keep a fraudster supplied with much more than a few groceries.

I’ve also fixed up help with proving my identity for the solicitors involved in Number One Son’s house purchase. It seems that because I have chosen to give a member of my own family some money to help with a house deposit I have yo have my morals checked. Yes, they want to check that I haven’t made my money from crime or terrorism and check that I’m moral enough to give some of my own money to my own son. Part of this is proving my identity. It’s not enough that I have a phot driving license with my name and address on it, I have to have further proof of my address. I’ve been on the electoral register here for the last thirty four years and have  voted at every election but that isn’t enough either. I have to have my ID signed and verified by one of a number of people, including a medical professional, a financial adviser or a minister of religion.

So, if Dr Crippen, Harold Shipman or Josef Mengele was available, hey could vouch for me. So could a financial adviser, if they were to take time off from embezzlement and advising on how to avoid tax and launder money. There is no note on which religions qualify to sign – passport  regulations stipulate “recognised religion, including Scientology” for their needs but the solicitor, who has clearly formed this list with little thought, seems happy to accept the Universal Life Church and Jedi.

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In other words, the ID requirements are a mockery and unlikely to cause problems to any half-intelligent criminal. The fact that they do seem technically demanding to a solicitor merely reinforces my long-standing prejudice against the legal profession. You have to have a degree to become a qualified legal professional, a move they took some years ago, but this merely cuts out the lower classes, and does not prove that the holder of the degree is able to think, merely to remember a mass of facts, which they then trot out at some appropriate time. The judge, who, to be fair, is usually a lawyer of great intellect, then sorts the facts out and renders a verdict.

In my next post I will continue with this theme. I have enough material for at least another 500 words.

Is the title making sense yet? Henry VI, Part 2.

“The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers”

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Catching Up

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I got home last night to find two letters. One was from South Yorkshire Constabulary telling me that I am to have penalty points and a fine for my speeding offence, so I don’t know why they even bothered to mention the safe driving course in their original letter.

I’m extremely annoyed with myself, as I’ve been up and down that stretch of road hundreds of times with no problem. I’ve travelled hundreds of thousands of miles for business and, except for a bit of bother in 1977, I’ve had a clean driving record. A moment’s lack of attention and it’s cost me £100, three points and, no doubt, hassle with the insurance company.

I may well have to write to the Chief Constable and express my disappointment at not being allowed to go on the course.

After opening that letter I opened one from my bank. They say they haven’t heard from me and will start to restrict my access to my money if I don’t contact them to renew my contact details.

So, I rang, and it’s possible I was a little brusque. The original person who took my call palmed me off on somebody else who clearly didn’t want to hear from me, didn’t know what was going on and was happy to confirm that after a telephone call I’d made last month had provided all the information currently being demanded. I may have to issue a sharp rebuke to head office.

Of course, I never actually get round to writing any of these letters…

Finally, we went to visit Julia’s niece in hospital. She has just had a baby and I am now a great-uncle. This is a description of our relationship, not the quality of my uncleship, as I’m a very mediocre uncle at best.

At least the day ended on a high. Babies are very uplifting, particularly when you can give them back and go home.

Today’s photograph is from our Wednesday visit to Carsington Water, which I still need to write about, so the title of his post might be a trifle optimistic.