tartan bunker

Why should someone cut a drawing from the spine of an old book in my study, mostly occupied over long periods, put the drawing back inside the book, and put the book back on another shelf?  Any Inspector MacPoirots out there with theories? 

Here’s a non-government health warning: don’t use Spelt flour to make pancakes. MacGluten, the Dekaydence chef, tells me that everyone knows that Spelt flour is the flour for the bbc (bread, biscuits and cakes). I should’ve guessed. Despite the addition of honey and brandy, the mixture had no will to rise; the spelt pancake clung to the base of the hot crepe pan – moribund, with no vitality, no purpose. Not like last year’s ’strong’ flour pancakes which soared like a prima ballerina. Oh hum, the Spelties seem happy lying around in my tum. Nevertheless, should want a recipe for Spelt bread . . .

I ’phoned my local bank in south London and a very nice lady in India answered, telling me she’d fax my details to the branch and get them to call me. I then found the bank manager’s direct phone line, called him, made an appointment and saw him within the hour. Two days later, he rang me, puzzled, wanting to know who I was. I reminded him. Ah, he said, thing is, I’ve just received a fax telling me to contact this number, but no name, no reference. . . ’ This chap is a professional, he’s not responsible for this nonsense but . . . In future, I won’t be using Barclays.

Also, alack and alas, I had cause to ring Thames Water. Two phones ringing, on and off over two days. Gave up, and sent an email. Got a call two days later. ‘Hello,’ said a heavily-accented voice where wordsranintooneanother. ‘ThisisTim’swater.’ 

Do the lunatic accountants who must have thought this’d be cost effective ever have cause to contact their call centres abroad? Have they given thought or care ever to the cost to the customer and society at large through the waste of time and money spent in contact with such centres?

I’ll return anon to the problems at home with those who take calls and go out of their way not to help you. And then before signing off, ask if there’s anything else they can help you with.

Soon, I’ll have to contact BT. Most of us know what that means. I give up. Bring back pigeons.

British jobs for British workers – aye! To describe this rallying cry as xenophobia is to misunderstand, intentionally or otherwise, the meaning of the word defined as ‘an intense fear or dislike of foreigners.’ What’s wrong with British jobs for British workers? It’s not meant as blanket coverage, but blanket support. At the very least, it keeps Brits out of their own dole queue. At the least, it’s a common courtesy to employ your own, who’ve been born and/or brought up here, and been schooled (hopefully) in the language and ways of the country. (That’s how Italy operates I understand from a highly-qualified English acquaintance who failed to get a job there).

Those against the idea claim foreign workers are better than Brits. I find this insulting, given the people I work with, but it were the case, then someone in charge of the red tape should be out there ensuring that our lot is up to scratch, and if there are doubts, ensuring the training system is way above scratch. I’ve been in the dole queue: it was unpleasant, humiliating, and the system supposedly helping you back into work was useless if not corrupted. I hope things have changed but . . .

When my friend, Graham Greene’s grandson, visited these shores from Switzerland he was appalled, scorning the many foreigners, with uneasy English, who attempted to show him round many of our national treasures. It just wouldn’t be allowed to happen in Switzerland, he said.

There’s more on a lighter, and darker, note in Green Fire, the second in the Chronicles of Dekaydence, due out in summer, 2009. Visit: www.dekaydence.com