Tag Archives: security

Another Lawyer Rant

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Tonight I went to see my dentist. She is a nice woman and didn’t really deserve an after hours visit from a man moaning about governmental restrictions, estate agents and the fact that the so-called “checks” to prevent money laundering and international terrorism wouldn’t defeat many teenagers, let alone a would-be criminal mastermind. It’s hard to believe that Russian Oligarchs, Saudi Princes or African Politicians are short of suitable professionals to sign their ID documentation. Even if they were, it’s hard to believe that the Estate Agents and Lawyers of London would let a little thing like the law get in their way as they fought to get their hands on as much tainted money as possible.

I had an appointment to see her, in  case you are wondering, and didn’t just turn up waving a sheaf of papers. Her husband is one of our customers, so I’d set the appointment up earlier in the day.

Also, as Derrick has just highlighted an area needing more clarity, I was visiting to get my ID check signed, not about teeth. She is an excellent dentist but today’s call was over and above the call of duty. I can, when dealing with these solicitors, either take a picture on my phone and they will accept it. Or I can send copies signed by a reputable person. I don’t like technology and don’t actually see how a selfie proves anything, even accompanied by my driving license.

The accountants who handled my parents’ estate were set up to allow us to do it all securely online. The people handling my pension are considerate enough to send me paper copies of everything. The solicitors handling the house sale for Number One Son, expect me to have a printer and to produce sheet after sheet of print outs. You, of course, know how I run my life, and will not be surprised to learn that my printer is out of action.

I have used the printer at work (yes, I asked the owner . . .) for some of it, and one of the neighbours printed us off a sheet tonight, but I have just had to spend several hours breaking up a selection of PDFs to extract the bits I need – either as forms from the solicitor’s pack or copies of emails from the bank regarding the estate of my parents. Yes, they not only assume I’m a criminal or terrorist and then insult me with a series of security checks that would embarrass a toddler, but they make me re-live the deaths of my parents as I prove my sources of income.

Meanwhile, the company that does the on-line identity checks, the ones I refuse to do, tells me that electronic ID checks are the future and have been proven to be safer than paper systems. My reply to that would be that if teenagers can hack the Pentagon and FBI, how can you be so sure that your system is secure?

 

New Windows!

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No, not the computer version, proper bits of glass. I’m struggling to find a subject for tonight’s post, so this is where I will start.

We now have windows in the shop, replacing the chipboard and angle-iron that we’ve had for the last month. There are a few odds and ends to clear up but at least people won’t keep coming in and asking: “Have you had a robbery?”

My suggestion to stop that happening was to play Vera Lynn records and claim to be re-enacting the Blitz. This suggestion was not taken up.

Nor was my suggestion of telling them to mind their own business. It seems that people have a right to ask questions. Even stupid questions that we’ve heard fifty times before.

The problem is that it isn’t really the weather for sitting in a shop with missing glass, and I still haven’t warmed up. It took three hours.

We now have armoured glass in the doors, which should resist an attack like the last one. However, someone with a little intelligence and a flexible blade could probably remove a panel in a couple of minutes. It’s all a question of how much effort people are prepared to put in, and how much time they want to spend doing it.

As we saw when viewing the recording of the last robbery, they like to be in and out in a couple of minutes. If you can hold them out a few minutes extra they will go somewhere else.

It’s tough luck on the people who are “somewhere else” but that’s life.

The peacock was in the farmyard at Gigrin Farm. I took it when we went to see the Red Kites. It’s the nearest thing to a window I have in a photo.

Garden Centres, Disappointment and a Widow

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We  went to two garden centres this morning. The first one was disappointing, with a closed cafe and a definite lack of things worth buying. The second was equally poor, despite promises of 50% off. At least the cafe was open, even if they did serve the cheese toasties with salad on a breadboard. Not even a traditional British breadboard either, but a modern pressed bamboo monstrosity.

Both of them seem to be plagued by thieves, judging from the notices stuck up around the centres. Hampson’s in Wakefield have gone as far as to install a security shed and employ two people to write signs telling you that “Your on TV” (sic), or in the case of the second person “You’re on TV”. I’ve never had the opportunity to write (sic) before; blogging is really expanding my horizons.

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Security shed ay the Garden Centre

The garden centre at Ackworth takes a different approach, having a sign up to ask customers to report each other if they see them stealing.

So there we were, with hardly an item purchased, nothing of interest seen and not much of a back-up plan. At that point we found the Ackworth memorial to local quarrymen. I’ve driven through the village dozens of times before Number Two son’s enforced retirement from Rugby League and never knew it existed.

Ackworth Quarrymen Memorial
Ackworth Quarrymen Memorial – close up

It lists 15 men of the area who died between 1878 and 1935.

I had a quick look for John Desborough on the internet – it’s a reasonably uncommon name and it produces several results. Born in Lincolnshire in 1843, spent some time in Holbeach Workhouse with two brothers and a sister. He was an agricultural labourer until 1876, when he married in Ackworth, worked as a quarryman and had five children before being killied in a quarry accident on 17th  May 1889.

His wife Susanah did not remarry, and his three sons all went to work as quarrymen. Susannah died in 1916, and is buried in St Cuthberts churchyard.

Tough times, and an interesting memorial.

 

It’s happened already!

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Do you remember me saying I’ve used a fingerprint as part of the set-up for my phone? And that I’d probably lose the finger now?

Well, I still have all my fingers, but…

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Sorry it’s a bit blurred but I had to frame it to miss out the clutter on my desk and take it with one hand, so focus proved to be a step too far.

It was the result of a blood test rather than accident, and I really ought to have thought about it before letting them use that finger. It bled quite a lot, because they’ve pumped me full of Warfarin and the injections that I can’t remember the name of. (That’s a little inelegant, but “the name of which I cannot remember” seems worse). I had also bled overnight from the site of the injection I gave myself last night.

Annoyingly, despite the bleeding, the numbers indicate that I’ve failed to reach the necessary threshold. They have upped the dose again and booked me in for a test on Wednesday, because I clearly have nothing better to do than go to hospital for tests. No doubt they will want me back on Friday  too.

Having switched the phone off as requested when I entered hospital I had to restart it to call a taxi. This involved jugging stick, phone and bag as I tried to remove the plaster with my teeth.

The result of all that was that I managed to get blood on the sensor which, unsurprisingly, could not be persuaded to open the phone. Application of a handkerchief to both finger and sensor finally enabled me to ring a taxi.

I’m having a rethink on this fingerprint technology.