So the world-wide blogging community was well and truly bloggered on Friday - coincidentally, Friday the 13th. What, I wonder, would I have posted had I been able to access this blog?
I might have mentioned bacon. On both Wednesday and Thursday I enjoyed bacon at dinner time. On Wednesday the Old Bat and I went with a fellow-Lion friend to our local Italian restaurant where I had pasta (tagliatella) with bacon and onions and the chef's home-made tomato sauce. Brilliant! I know I had bacon on Thursday as well and if I stop thinking about it I shall probably remember just how I had it. Oh yes, John Noakes Special - which will need explanation. Years ago there was a children's TV programme called Blue Peter. In fact, I think there still is a children's TV programme called Blue Peter but I'm talking about the time when one of the presenters was a man called John Noakes. That was in the days when my children were children. Just why JN was talking about cooking is something I didn't know then (I never saw the programme as it was aired before I got home from work) and I don't know now. But he was. He described a dish he had invented and which he had not named so it was called John Noakes Special. Not being much of a dab hand in the kitchen department, I don't know what the recipe is - or even all the ingredients. All I know is that one puts chopped potatoes, lardon-sized bits of bacn and chopped tomatoes in a dish which is then put in the oven. Serve with a green veg.
So that's bacon done with - except to say that we will be eating roast gammon this evening. Now, what else?
I went to the doctor on Thursday afternoon, not something I do lightly. I developed a particularly nasty cough before Easter. It cleared a bit but then came back with a vengeance and by Tuesday I had had enough. I thought it was/is a bout of bronchitis and it had reached the stage where I really wanted something - an antibiotic - to knock it on the head. So on Tuesday afternoon I phoned the surgery and was given an appointment for Thursday with a doctor I had never heard of. I think he is one of the juniors at the practice. After I had described the symptons (I won't bore you with them) he asked me, 'Do you think it could be a virus of some sort?' I assured him that I thought he was on the right lines. 'Should I prescribe an antibiotic?' was his next question.
I've heard of DIY in many areas, but that was ridiculous. Anyway, I am now in the middle of a course of antibiotics, hoping it will do the trick.
Doesn't that make you glad Blogger was down all Friday?
Sunday, 15 May 2011
Saturday, 14 May 2011
Scenic Saturday - North Yorkshire
Number 41 in the series.
There are no doubt many people - and not just Yorkshire tykes - who would claim that the north riding of Yorkshire, or North Yorkshire as the county is known, is the most scenic part of England. Certainly there is no shortage of beauty, both natural and man-made. There are the dales and the North York Moors as well as the sometimes dramatic coast, then there is the city of York with its monster, city walls and medieval buildings. There are the seaside towns of Scarborough and Whitby (Captain Cook's home port) and the inland towns of Knaresborough and Harrogate. All would provide pictures suitable for this series. In the end I have decided to borrow Bob Tuck's dramatic picture of the entrance to Whitby harbour with the ruins of the abbey on the headland.
There are no doubt many people - and not just Yorkshire tykes - who would claim that the north riding of Yorkshire, or North Yorkshire as the county is known, is the most scenic part of England. Certainly there is no shortage of beauty, both natural and man-made. There are the dales and the North York Moors as well as the sometimes dramatic coast, then there is the city of York with its monster, city walls and medieval buildings. There are the seaside towns of Scarborough and Whitby (Captain Cook's home port) and the inland towns of Knaresborough and Harrogate. All would provide pictures suitable for this series. In the end I have decided to borrow Bob Tuck's dramatic picture of the entrance to Whitby harbour with the ruins of the abbey on the headland.
Thursday, 12 May 2011
Great excitement!
I went down into town yesterday afternoon. Yes, really! That was the first time I had been into the centre of Brighton since the Lions held their fun day in the Royal Pavilion Gardens at the end of June last year and the first time I had been into the Churchill Square shopping centre for, oh, possibly two years or more. The objective yesterday was to buy a globe. My granddaughter will soon be celebrating her fourth birthday and she has asked for a globe. For some unknown reason she has become fixated on Africa and she wants a globe so that she can see where it is. I could have ordered one online but was dubious about it arriving before we leave for our next trip to France. The big day is while we are away so we need to have the present wrapped and ready before we go. Another thing the little madam is fixated on is the colour pink. If asked what flavour ice cream she wants, her answer is, 'Pink'. So imagine my delight when I discovered a pink globe! I have never before seen the seas and oceans depicted in pink, but they are on this globe. The Old Bat expressed mild doubts when she saw what I had bought, hoping the different colour wouldn't confuse the GD. I'm confident she is bright enough for it not to matter.
And I killed two birds with one stone. While I was in town I took the opportunity to buy some new clothes.
And I killed two birds with one stone. While I was in town I took the opportunity to buy some new clothes.
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
I may have mentioned it elsewhere on this blog but I will repeat it now for those who have just come in (there are always a few late-comers) and for those who might have read it before but have forgotten. I don't blame them for having forgotten, after all, it's hardly earth-shattering news. Indeed, if "news" concerns up-to-date happenings, this isn't news at all: it's ancient history.
(I've forgotten what I was... Oh, yes.)
I spent twenty-five years working for a High Street bank. I include the words "High Street" to make clear that I was not one of those City types dealing in derivatives and other things I don't understand and being paid millions. I was at the sharp end where we dealt with real people and real money. Not being one of those real whizz-kids, I never made it to full managerial status. The peak of my career was when I was appointed a Support Branch Manager. This meant that I was in charge of a small branch which was under the full managerial control of the manager of the bigger branch in town. I had previously been the number two at the branch when it was totally independent and with its own full Manager. On his retirement the branch was downgraded whereas I was upgraded - slightly.
It was about this time that the bank started on a programme of rationalisation. What this meant, of course, was that smaller branches were being closed. I, and several others, were convinced that "my" branch was on the list for closure and I was expected to oversee the running down of the business and the transfer of the bigger accounts to our parent branch. However, things happened that were outside the control of the powers that were. One of my staff took a phone call from a man who told her he was in charge of a new business in the area, a subsidiary of an international company, and he was looking to open a bank account for this new company. He asked if we could handle this. My young lady promptly replied in the affirmative and the result was that we opened what would become one of the biggest accounts the bank had in Sussex. My branch earned so much from this one account that we became the second most profitable branch per head of staff in the county and, indeed, one of the top ten in the country. The local bigwigs, I believe, decided not to close the branch in case that account was lost to another bank who still maintained nearby branches, a decision which, I also believe, they disliked having to make.
This was also a time when my own authority to lend money was being eroded. All managerial staff had authority to lend up to certain limits allocated individually. These limits were reviewed from time to time to ensure that the effects of inflation etc did not cause problems. My limit was increased but each time it seemed to be increased by less than I needed. Whereas at one time my limit was high enough lend one customer enough to cover a month's sales invoices, over time inflation outstripped the increase in my limit and I had to refer upwards at more inconvenience both to the customer and to me and my staff. At the lower end of lending, computerised credit scoring was gradually taking over and the result was that the area over which I had authority was narrowing year by year. I felt I was becoming just an intermediary with less and less responsibility. This did little for my ambition and, in any case, the branch closure programme meant that I had less and less chance of going further up the ladder. My frustration grew.
The bank I had joined after leaving school had changed. We were now being encouraged to sell a variety of insurance policies and had to accept targets for the volume of insurance business we wrote. I had not joined a bank to become an insurance salesman and I was concerned that, in order to meet targets, we were selling policies to people who either didn't really want them or didn't need them.
It all boiled away inside me and eventually something had to give. I knew that it wouldn't be the directors of the bank, so it had to be me. I resigned. Had I stuck it out another year or two, I am convinced the bank would have paid me to go as they did with so many others, but I jumped ship just a bit too soon.
And what has brought all this to mind? It's the news this week that Britain's banks have had to set aside millions (if not billions) of pounds to repay customers who were mis-sold insurance policies. I feel vindicated.
(I've forgotten what I was... Oh, yes.)
I spent twenty-five years working for a High Street bank. I include the words "High Street" to make clear that I was not one of those City types dealing in derivatives and other things I don't understand and being paid millions. I was at the sharp end where we dealt with real people and real money. Not being one of those real whizz-kids, I never made it to full managerial status. The peak of my career was when I was appointed a Support Branch Manager. This meant that I was in charge of a small branch which was under the full managerial control of the manager of the bigger branch in town. I had previously been the number two at the branch when it was totally independent and with its own full Manager. On his retirement the branch was downgraded whereas I was upgraded - slightly.
It was about this time that the bank started on a programme of rationalisation. What this meant, of course, was that smaller branches were being closed. I, and several others, were convinced that "my" branch was on the list for closure and I was expected to oversee the running down of the business and the transfer of the bigger accounts to our parent branch. However, things happened that were outside the control of the powers that were. One of my staff took a phone call from a man who told her he was in charge of a new business in the area, a subsidiary of an international company, and he was looking to open a bank account for this new company. He asked if we could handle this. My young lady promptly replied in the affirmative and the result was that we opened what would become one of the biggest accounts the bank had in Sussex. My branch earned so much from this one account that we became the second most profitable branch per head of staff in the county and, indeed, one of the top ten in the country. The local bigwigs, I believe, decided not to close the branch in case that account was lost to another bank who still maintained nearby branches, a decision which, I also believe, they disliked having to make.
This was also a time when my own authority to lend money was being eroded. All managerial staff had authority to lend up to certain limits allocated individually. These limits were reviewed from time to time to ensure that the effects of inflation etc did not cause problems. My limit was increased but each time it seemed to be increased by less than I needed. Whereas at one time my limit was high enough lend one customer enough to cover a month's sales invoices, over time inflation outstripped the increase in my limit and I had to refer upwards at more inconvenience both to the customer and to me and my staff. At the lower end of lending, computerised credit scoring was gradually taking over and the result was that the area over which I had authority was narrowing year by year. I felt I was becoming just an intermediary with less and less responsibility. This did little for my ambition and, in any case, the branch closure programme meant that I had less and less chance of going further up the ladder. My frustration grew.
The bank I had joined after leaving school had changed. We were now being encouraged to sell a variety of insurance policies and had to accept targets for the volume of insurance business we wrote. I had not joined a bank to become an insurance salesman and I was concerned that, in order to meet targets, we were selling policies to people who either didn't really want them or didn't need them.
It all boiled away inside me and eventually something had to give. I knew that it wouldn't be the directors of the bank, so it had to be me. I resigned. Had I stuck it out another year or two, I am convinced the bank would have paid me to go as they did with so many others, but I jumped ship just a bit too soon.
And what has brought all this to mind? It's the news this week that Britain's banks have had to set aside millions (if not billions) of pounds to repay customers who were mis-sold insurance policies. I feel vindicated.
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
Keeping me safe
Some people would, I suppose, say that I have been lucky to have had my credit cards misused on only two occasions (so far). The first occasion could have been embarrassing but wasn't. It happened one Easter when the Old Bat and I were staying on their farm with my cousin and her husband. We had taken our hosts out for a meal and when I went to pay the bill there was a slight problem. May card was declined with the request that the merchant phone the credit card company. I was distinctly puzzled as I knew full well I was nowhere near my limit on the card. That has been set at a ridiculously high figure, high enough for me to use my card to buy a car - or even two small cars! I never get anywhere near it so I knew the problem that evening could not have anything to do with that. The phone was passed to me and I satisfied the credit card company that I was the person named on the card. The transaction was authorised but I was asked to contact a different department as soon as possible. Back at the farm, I phoned the number I had been given and I was asked about one particular transaction which had, I gathered, taken place on the internet. As the card company suspected, this had nothing to do with me. They didn't tell me what aroused their suspicions but they immediately blocked my card and I received a replacement a few days later.
The second time this happened I spotted four entries that had nothing to do with me when I went online to check something. Three of the entries were debits while the fourth was a refund of one of the debits. I immediately rang the credit card company and the reversed the three debits straight away and blocked any further transactions on that card. (Despite my pointing it out, they never did take back the credit entry so I ended up about £90 better off.)
I am one of those people who uses a credit card for nearly all my purchases and to be without one even for a few days could cause considerable inconvenience. It is because of that that I have a second credit card. I have considered keeping one for purchases over the internet and the other for things like supermarkets and restaurants but somehow I have never got round to putting this into practice. I also have three debit cards, one for each of my two English bank accounts and one for my French account. This does lead to a numerical headache as, of course, each card has a different PIN. Fortunately, each PIN is reasonably easy for me to remember for one reason or another but I have devised a way of keeping a note of each of them in a form of code, a code which is not obviously a code, although I don't keep this list in my wallet with the cards.
This question of PINs and passwords is becoming ever more difficult to resolve. I would find it difficult to even guess at how many different web sites require me to enter a password - banks, building society, credit cards, blogs, on-line stores and so on. We are told we should use a different password for each, but how I could ever remember, say, 24 passwords is open to question. Then I would have to remember which password goes with which web site - and remember to change each password every few months. I do use more than one password and I can generally remember which password goes with which site but I haven't yet done what a friend tells me he does. He uses a different password for each site - but he keeps a spreadsheet detailing all of them. Admittedly, that spreadsheet is also password protected but it still seems a bit dangerous to me.
I heard of another idea recently which I might one day adapt and bring into use. This involves thinking of a password of eight characters rather than the more usual ten then, for each web site, put the first letter of the name in front of the basic password and the second at the back. For example, if the basic password was 12345678 and the web site was Blogger, the full password would become B12345678L. There are, of course, a number of ways that could be adapted and I rather like the idea. The challenge is to remember, while gradually changing over to using this system, which sites have the new password and which the old. Still, that's a challenge easy enough to surmount.
What I have yet to crack is the problem of remembering the answers to some of the security questions. OK, my mother's maiden name is easy enough to remember (and easy enough for half the world to find out) but a "memorable place"? What should I choose? And when, four or five years later, I am asked what it is, will I remember?
Life must have been a lot easier when people were paid in cash every week and they just walked down the road to the parade of shops which sold everything one needed, but somehow I don't think we could go back to that style of living.
The second time this happened I spotted four entries that had nothing to do with me when I went online to check something. Three of the entries were debits while the fourth was a refund of one of the debits. I immediately rang the credit card company and the reversed the three debits straight away and blocked any further transactions on that card. (Despite my pointing it out, they never did take back the credit entry so I ended up about £90 better off.)
I am one of those people who uses a credit card for nearly all my purchases and to be without one even for a few days could cause considerable inconvenience. It is because of that that I have a second credit card. I have considered keeping one for purchases over the internet and the other for things like supermarkets and restaurants but somehow I have never got round to putting this into practice. I also have three debit cards, one for each of my two English bank accounts and one for my French account. This does lead to a numerical headache as, of course, each card has a different PIN. Fortunately, each PIN is reasonably easy for me to remember for one reason or another but I have devised a way of keeping a note of each of them in a form of code, a code which is not obviously a code, although I don't keep this list in my wallet with the cards.
This question of PINs and passwords is becoming ever more difficult to resolve. I would find it difficult to even guess at how many different web sites require me to enter a password - banks, building society, credit cards, blogs, on-line stores and so on. We are told we should use a different password for each, but how I could ever remember, say, 24 passwords is open to question. Then I would have to remember which password goes with which web site - and remember to change each password every few months. I do use more than one password and I can generally remember which password goes with which site but I haven't yet done what a friend tells me he does. He uses a different password for each site - but he keeps a spreadsheet detailing all of them. Admittedly, that spreadsheet is also password protected but it still seems a bit dangerous to me.
I heard of another idea recently which I might one day adapt and bring into use. This involves thinking of a password of eight characters rather than the more usual ten then, for each web site, put the first letter of the name in front of the basic password and the second at the back. For example, if the basic password was 12345678 and the web site was Blogger, the full password would become B12345678L. There are, of course, a number of ways that could be adapted and I rather like the idea. The challenge is to remember, while gradually changing over to using this system, which sites have the new password and which the old. Still, that's a challenge easy enough to surmount.
What I have yet to crack is the problem of remembering the answers to some of the security questions. OK, my mother's maiden name is easy enough to remember (and easy enough for half the world to find out) but a "memorable place"? What should I choose? And when, four or five years later, I am asked what it is, will I remember?
Life must have been a lot easier when people were paid in cash every week and they just walked down the road to the parade of shops which sold everything one needed, but somehow I don't think we could go back to that style of living.
Monday, 9 May 2011
That's another one over
I groaned when I opened the curtains yesterday morning, the day of the Lilac Lark. This is a fete which, for the second year, was arranged jointly by the Friends of Withdean Park and Brighton Lions Club. The Lions stepped in last year when the Friends decided they were unable to muster enough volunteers to run the event so now we take over some of the planning and administration, bring along a few extra stalls and share the proceeds. What we Lions have ended with is a community service activity which also raises money for our charity trust fund. But back to yesterday morning. I heard the rain before I actually opened the curtains, hence my groan. Last year we froze (and the Withdean Park lilacs were not yet in bloom), whereas this year we looked like being washed out - and the lilacs are definitely past their best! But by the time I had seen to the dog and made the Old Bat a cup of tea, the rain had stopped. I started again just before I set off with the dog for a walk round the park where I had to pin up notices warning people of possible moving vehicles ('elf and safety being what it is). That was a fairly brief shower and, after that, it was pretty much sunshine all the way. Good crowds who seemed to be enjoying the sun and spending their money. The book stall seemed to have crowds of browsers all afternoon and took over £100.
We don't yet have the final figures but it should have been a good result.
We don't yet have the final figures but it should have been a good result.
Sunday, 8 May 2011
Busy weekend
What with the Lions' book fair yesterday morning and the Lilac Lark taking up most of today, it's a busy weekend for me. The next couple of weeks will also have a fair number of Lions events. I am doing the blind club transport on Tuesday and bingo on Friday, then the following week I have the stroke club transport to do on Tuesday followed by the Housing Society AGM and a Lions business meeting on Wednesday. I suppose if nothing else it will keep me off the street corners!
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