The air that I breath

The Duke of Wellington once said, "All the business of war, and indeed all the business of life, is to endeavour to find out what you don't know by what you do” and I find his words wholly descriptive of the process I have endured throughout my three year mission to obtain a meaningful dialogue with HBOS.

Grateful of knowledge gleaned of the lending industry via a career in financial services combined with a hundred years of financial expertise within my immediate family gave me the impression I would be well positioned to communicate with HBOS about our financial difficulties and effect a solution. Initially I hoped to avoid the forced sale of my home in 2008 by letting it for a three year period to a long term tenant. When this failed I believed an understanding of money might stand me in good stead when requesting debt forgiveness.  Instead, I discovered nothing could have been further from the truth when it came to dealing with the too big to fail bank, HBOS.

Over the past three years I have,

·        Fully explained our financial circumstances and supplied supporting evidence to HBOS

·        Enlisted the help of a many of charitable organisations to verify my circumstances to HBOS

·        Researched and quoted the guidelines for the FSA, FOS and CCS to illustrate my point to HBOS

·        Scrutinised and quoted from a plethora of literature on government guidelines and the Mortgage Code of Conduct to support my case against  HBOS

·        Absorbed the expertise of any number of insolvency experts, tax investigators, accountants and bankruptcy courts to quote to HBOS in an effort to make our position understood

And

·        Written hundreds of letters to HBOS, their agents and their regulatory authorities initially calling on the use of logic, then begging for empathy and compassion, and finally demanding a formal complaint.

Armed with the aforementioned industry insight, I had hoped for a practical and dignified resolution to our unrecoverable position would eventually be negotiated. Sadly my endeavours have resulted in nothing more than a vast accumulation of knowledge in areas where I formerly had little or no expertise.

On the other hand I have learned a great deal about debt, and am especially well informed on debt with HBOS. From three long years at the HBOS coal face I have discovered,

·        HBOS are neither interested in the truth nor are they motivated to reach a cost effective resolution to an individual’s financial problems

·        Charitable debt handling organisations regularly feel impotent when  battling the banks on behalf on their vulnerable clients and have little in their armoury to offer other than sympathy and bankruptcy

·        Regulatory guidelines for the financial services industry are rarely enforced and their in-house adjudicators are often, at best, subjective and at worst derogatory and unsympathetic

·        Individuals employed in debt collection on behalf of HBOS are often superior in attitude and extremely judgmental.

·        Bankruptcy and insolvency arrangements are a luxury many, including myself, cannot afford

·        No one really believes that debt forgiveness for the individual actually exists in spite of evidence I have supplied to the contrary

·        Letters of logic, compassion and complaint are rarely read by those who have the wherewithal to understand them

And,

·        A little bit of knowledge on the part of the individual can pose a very lucrative commodity when it comes to establishing HBOS’s culpability in the financial downfall of one of the 99%.

This week, I am to meet with the senior partner of a large and established law firm to ascertain if, after three years of pleading for debt mercy, it is I who has grounds to pursue a legal case against HBOS for causing my financial demise in the first place.

It is said there is no point complaining about the air if it’s all you have to breath. And for this reason I have previously looked only for solutions, and later compassion, from my HBOS oppressors. I had hoped our deficit would be forgiven and in so doing allow me to consider my family’s future in a life free from tormentors we could not satisfy.  Now there is the smallest of chances to enjoy a completely different out-look, I can only imagine the joy of breathing air which is no longer contaminated by debt. However, despite this somewhat over-whelming possibility for some good news....

I still won’t be holding my breath!

Consequences

When speaking of his concerns for the future in 1900, William Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army said, “I consider that the chief dangers which confront the coming century will be;

·        Religion without the Holy Ghost,

·        Christianity without Christ,

·        Forgiveness without repentance,

·        Salvation without regeneration,

·        Politics without God,

·        Heaven without hell”

I cannot comment on the whereabouts of Christ or the Holy Ghost but on all other counts it appears the bankers are set to benefit from the absence of the very same moral guidelines Booth feared would be lacking in his modern world more than a century ago. 

While David Cameron prepares us for watered down banking reforms instead of the fire and brimstone promises surrounding his election, not only are the individuals responsible for wrecking our economy sitting pretty, but they are also set to continue to enjoy fruits without labour.  Carefully crafted economic scaremongery has some speaking of the proposed retail bank ring fencing being deferred as late as 2019 so they will also be unlikely to be required to repent or regenerate.  Because of this I can not see how they will ever be made to suffer the consequences of their greed driven actions.

I, on the other hand, am expected to pick up the pieces of my life with a hellish £217,000 shortfall hanging over me, take the consequences of HBOS’s decision to create this unrecoverable debt squarely on the chin and accept the words of Antonio Horta Osorio’s very junior lackey from Mortgage Recoveries when he says, in response to my “All I need is you” letter,

“I would like to place on record that I feel that Halifax is fully entitled to pursue you for your liability and has not done anything wrong in this matter.”

With deny, deny, deny remaining firmly on the tip of every HBOS tongue and omnipotence as its guide, I cannot imagine anyone within Lloyds or HBOS thinking twice when laying the consequences of the financial crisis firmly at the feet of the individual while expecting us and the taxpayer to suffer the fall out for their actions for years to come.

This is hardly surprising when those at the top, having appointed a scapegoat or two, have succeeded in keeping their jobs along with their enormous remuneration packages and in so doing cunningly “ring fenced” themselves and their families , together with their personal financial futures, against an economic crisis they created.  Powerless in the face of their own funding shortfalls, governments and regulatory authorities alike continue to keep the feral elite sweet by paying lip service to the radical changes and reforms required to bring this omnipotent banking culture to task.  Because of this, and no doubt after much posturing on all sides, I can see that, yet again, we will find ourselves advised it is safest to dance to the untouchables tune while the economy burns even if  the impoverished individual has no alternative but to pay the price.

William Booth said, “To get a man soundly saved it is not enough to put on him a new pair of breeches, to give him regular work, or even give him a University education. These things are all outside a man, and if the inside remains unchanged your have wasted your labour. You must in some way or other graft  upon the man’s nature, a new nature which has in it the element of the Divine.” I and my family have put on the new breeches, found regular, albeit menial, work and grafted on a new nature with which to face our changed world. It is clear the banks have no intention of doing the same.                                                        

Tears and Fears

It is said, "Tears are the words the heart cannot express" but after three long years in my role of one woman debt fighter, tears alone could no longer express the way I felt about the position I found myself in. Consumed with a passion to keep my family whole while covertly facing hundreds of thousands of pounds of my husbands business debt regularly left me void of a means with which to express my grief, my fear and my frustration. When I started my blog, I had no ingenious plan for what I would write nor had I a clearly defined objective.  I was purely driven by an over whelming desire to express words from the heart in a way which had proved impossible to relay by any other method.  

As the months passed, my writing began to focus on the trials and tribulations of living in the aftermath of our outstanding financial obligations and the impact it had on every facet of my life. Publishing my posts in the public domain, although daunting at first, has been a wholly uplifting experience with moments of pure glee if someone new signs up “to follow” or something I have written evokes a comment. I have even received valuable snippets of information aiding my cause and these small votes of confidence have not only supported my resolve but also encouraged me to persevere with my battle. For this I am truly grateful.  

Knowing obstacles are only observed by those who take their eyes off the goal, writing about my desire to keep my family together has kept this vital objective firmly fixed in my sights while blogging about issues with our creditors has not only helped me remain focused on the tasks ahead but aided my understanding that being happy does not mean life is perfect. It simply means you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections. However, blogging about the effects of debt on my marriage has been completely different.

Constructing sentences which describe how I feel has been an outlet for a grief I have been unable to express even with tears. My reaction to my husband's deceit has been the mother of all elephants in our room for the past three years and blogging about our lives together has helped create a picture of clarity for me while enjoying the observational detachment of a writer.  It has also enabled me to realise that, as well as battling the banks and refusing to allow my children’s lives to be contaminated by debt, I have also been fighting to save my marriage. However, what I have been completely unaware of is, my husband now knows this because he too has been reading my posts and, just as my writing has helped with so many other aspects of my life, I believe reading my words from the heart have done him, and us, nothing but good.

I believe one should never give up on something which is impossible to go a whole day without thinking about. This has certainly proved the case for me with respect to my children, my marriage and my writing and, because of the immense challenges I now have to face on a daily basis, I have also discovered, in the words of Oscar Wilde, “Ordinary riches can be stolen; real riches cannot because in your soul there are infinitely more precious things that cannot be taken from you”. Because of my blog and in spite of the ongoing persecution I am still subject to from Halifax Bank Of Scotland and Lloyds TSB Banking Group, I now find, not only do I have an elephant free marriage, but I also have something infinitely more precious.

The riches I now enjoy can never be stolen.

Kitchen Chaos

I am told chaos results when the world changes faster than the people in it and, whilst the uneasiness caused by global chaos is reputed to allow the opportunity for creativity and growth, chaos in my kitchen seems to be causing nothing but confusion and angst.

It is mid morning and my grandson and daughter are attempting to make a crumble with fruit they have picked from the garden while calling on my expertise, constantly, to help them.

My youngest son, furious to find someone has been using his Uno cards again, communicates his indignation by way of a walky talky at full volume that picks up passing police transmissions at the same time.

My husband who was, until summoned by our eldest son, mid point of yet another Internet based job application, stands silent and hovering in the doorway in readiness to fulfill a “no notice” request for a lift to the cinema.

The same sixteen year old son is attempting to procure the Orange Wednesday code from my phone whilst telling me to chill at my handbag invasion and show more respect when conversing with him.

I, on the other hand, while doing my best to both relay cooking instructions and referee the Uno card dispute,  am endeavouring to communicate to my sixteen year old son the benefits of  being less demanding of instantaneous social gratification and more responsive to the numerous tasks of educational importance that he has seen fit to neglect.

Getting nowhere with anything, but still with all eyes on me I decide to,

·        ask my daughter and grandson to take a break from prepping the crumble and play Uno,

·        ask my youngest son to switch the walky talky off and join in with the  Uno game,

·        tell my eldest son it is too short notice to go to the cinema and suggest he crack on with his list of more pressing issues.

This leaves my husband free to return to his CV and me exhausted, but with some semblance of order and an empty kitchen.

“Miracle Mum,”, some might say?

“Dictator and control freak,” they cry,  while during all this, my husband stands silently by.

High Anxiety

While EU politicians deliberate over how best to prop up the Italian economy's 1.8 trillion euro debt mountain, a Tuscany vine yard owner told Ian Fraser “all that matters is family, good wine, good food and sex” and having recently read former Chief Executive of HBOS, Andy Horby has decided to take time off from corporate life, I am beginning to wonder if it is because he too shares the Tuscan vineyard owner’s views.

According to Rupert Steiner in the Mail online, Hornby has experienced a tense five years from which he has required a much needed four month stress free break before make a career move into gambling, this time at the helm of Coral the bookmakers. To facilitate this, former employer Alliance Boots, the firm behind Boots the Chemist, has seen fit to make him a payout of ”£842,000 in salary, a £750,000 bonus, a £337,000 pension payment plus £41,000 in other benefits” on his departure. In addition the firm’s accounts also reveal Hornby was paid an additional £450,000 as compensation for not being allowed to join a rival health care company where he would have been at liberty to divulge Boots secrets.

It is said Andy Hornby is in need of a "sabbatical" because he has been “a worried man who cannot concentrate on anything” and having suffered from extreme levels of debt related stress throughout the last few years myself, I can certainly appreciate exactly how this feels. However although the nation is understandably still up in arms with regard to Hornby’s contribution to the collapse of HBOS and the cost of the subsequent government rescue, my question is not directly related to this. Instead I wish to know about what it is that Andy Hornby has been worrying?

·        Is it the worry of a guilty man who is hoping he will not be discovered and, like some former HBOS employees, face the consequences with a prison sentence?

·        Is it the worry of a bought man who is between a rock and hard place because his silence has been purchased?

·        Is it the worry of a patriotic man who wishes he hadn’t played a part in bringing this country to its economic knees?

·        Or maybe, it is the worry of a man who knows I, and many more like me, have lost their homes, their health and their livelihoods as direct a result of risk management policies he supported.

Of course, I cannot begin to guess the real trigger for Andy Hornby’s worries, but in the unlikely event the latter is true, then, as far as I am concerned, absolution is simple. If Andy Hornby would just tell someone of influence in his “ old boy’s” net work that I genuinely have no means with which to repay a mortgage shortfall of £217,000 which was created by HBOS unnecessarily requesting the forced  sale of my home in 2008, I might be able to get agreement to a write off and then I could enjoy some much needed stress free time myself. 

Assuming Mr Hornby could help me get his HBOS successors to listen, I would happily forgive him the legacy of financial persecution he left behind for me when he ran for hills leaving my family and I to suffer the consequences of his board’s reckless policies towards lending and heartless directives for the people caught up in its aftermath.Unfortunately I cannot speak for the many other individuals who have suffered at the hands of an HBOS led by Andy Hornby. However, my philosophy has always been to endeavour to consume ones elephants a little bit at time and helping me could well be the first mouthful of redeeming humble pie and absolution for the allegedly stress troubled Mr Hornby as he takes up the reins in another career based on a gamble.

They say love looks forward, hate looks back and anxiety has eyes all over its head. Having been in the grips of anxiety over the welfare of my family’s future since the very beginning of the economic downturn I have come to believe worry is most definitely interest paid on trouble due before it arrives. If this is the case  I can only hope Andy Hornby’s pockets are very deep.

Middle Management Blues

I appreciate expecting the world to treat you fairly because you are a nice person is not dissimilar to expecting a bull not to attack because you are a vegetarian and I believe Lloyds and HBOS's perseption of themselves as a bullish concern within the banking industry, has empowered them to feel free to continuously side step my issues with them and bludgeon me with their demands for payment. I am repeatedly told an individual should always be responsible for a debt regardless of how it arose.

I have just read Patrick Jenkins and Sharlene Goff’s  FT article discussing the reasons behind Lloyds shares recently rallying by 9% after a former 30% nose dive when Antonio Horta Osorio spoke of Lloyds problems soon after his appointment. I was interested to learn that renewed confidence has come from Horta Osorio’s announcement that operating costs will be addressed by cutting 15,000 middle management jobs across HBOS and the Lloyds group in order to make 1.5 billion in savings.

My interest in the prospects of soon to be ex-Lloyds and HBOS middle management  employees stems purely from my experiences at their hands as I can only surmise it was to middle management staff Lloyds and HBOS Chief Executives delegated the replies to my many letters asking for their help.

I do not doubt some of these people have had a hand in denying me an opportunity to save my home and  I believe, without question, they instructed Merrils Ede solicitors to pursue me with "sustained contact” despite my C.A.B. proven status as a “can’t pay” but most of all, I am convinced it has been middle management who have repeatedly told me mortgage shortfalls never get written off while insisting HBOS have no intention of ever writing off mine.

I can only assume of the people who are to be made redundant many, like me, will have young children and a mortgage from Lloyds or HBOS.  They, like me, will now be faced with arrears if finding employment is not immediate or in some cases notforthcoming at all. I wonder how they will feel when their peers continue to tow  the Lloyds and HBOS company line and dish out the same heartless replies they have given me.

·       Where will they live when they, like me, are unable to pay their mortgages because of an economic crisis?

·        How will they cope when they, like me, suffer from stress related ill health while they watch the effects of the financial crisis take hold on the demeanor of their children and their relationships?

·        What will they do when they, like me, are not allowed to rent their houses to cover their interest payments and instead lose their homes?

·        How much will they weep when, like me, HBOS and Lloyds force a sale on their homes and create shortfalls for which they have no means of repaying?

·        How many letters will they, like me, write asking for debt forgiveness only to be denied time and time again?

·        How will they feel when they, like me, try to explain to Merrils Ede solicitor’s henchwoman their circumstances and attempt to procure a workable solution only to be met with deaf and judgemental ears?

·       What will they do when, like me, they are told “people in your position should not be talking and explaining but, instead, be listening and repaying?"

·       What will they do when, like me,they are faced with the harsh reality their financial reputation and any hopes for a secure financial future are to be dashed against the rocks and lost forever?

It is said what goes around comes around and no doubt knowing what faces these poor people could indeed be seen as a form of poetic justice, especially if they are indeed the very same people whose decisions have ruined me. However, despite the ongoing harsh and condescending words of Lloyds and HBOS middle management,  my campaign is entirely about encouraging this immensely powerful banking fraternity to be Fair and Just.

It is not fair,

•  to pursue and persecute any individuals who have no way of repaying their mortgage shortfalls

• Fair to disregard the hardship suffered by any individual,

But it is definitely not just,

• to ignore workable solutions which could save a family home in favour of  bailouts for the corporate elite.

I cannot help but wonder if any of these imminently redundant employees of Lloyds and HBOS might be reminded of my letters of distress when their ex- employers take them to court to repossess their homes.  

Tough times

When I say I’ve had a tough week I do not mean,  

·        I have lost my husband and soul mate to a fatal heart attack at age forty nine

·        Nor have I had to face the man who stabbed me twenty one times in court

·        Neither have I had get through my life knowing I am a victim of violence and sexual abuse as a child

But, for three of my friends, this is their reality and I am so proud they have risen to their challenging lives with such stoicism and dignity.

Losing my home, my hair and my money pales into insignificance when compared with what life has dealt these women yet when we meet, we rarely do anything but laugh.

My thoughts are with you girls.

Pennies from heaven

While one random act of kindness can supposedly change the world, I am delighted to report three random acts of kindness have amounted to a much needed holiday for our family.

When Christmas  2008 came only eight weeks after the Grand Opening, every penny I received in gifts from my family went towards heat, light, food and fuel. We had weekly benefits of £300 a week and nothing to spare for presents let alone luxuries. Our life remained like this for many months leaving me trapped in my beautiful,  but expensive to heat, country home with creditors shouting abuse at my door, debt collection agencies constantly telephoning, baliff visits looming  and no idea where the tunnel was let alone where the light at the end of it might be.

A year later when Christmas came around again we had lost our home but had managed to secure a roof over our head in the form of a drafty, leaky old farmhouse which had stood empty for nearly a year. By this time my husband was working at M & S but we had to use the Christmas money sent to us as gifts to finance the purchase of presents for our children and grandchildren.

This year was completely different.

With rental income from lodgers bridging the gap between torturously cold and bearably comfortable, I felt able, for the first time in three years, to spend the three hundred pounds my father sent us, on a luxury. So, on New Year’s Eve, I paid £321 for five return flights to Spain thanks to my Dad and his wife’s generousity.

Three years ago, within days of discovering our predicament, my father- in -law urged me to take my children away from the continual harassment and verbal abuse which went hand in hand with the demise of our business by moving to his apartment on the Costa del Sol. Not wishing to hide from our financial responsibilites I decided to stay and face the consequences so declined his kind offer to use his well appointed Spanish home complete with car and a full larder. Three years on he was only too happy to make the same offer again but this time for ten days in July.

Hearing the prohibitively expensive transfers from the airport were going to cost nearly as much as our flights, some Spanish resident ex-patriot friends of my father in law, whom we have never meet, offered to bring two cars to Malaga airport to collect us at a fraction of the cost of the commercial transfers available.

Because of these three independent acts of kindness, I, my husband and my children will fly to Spain for a ten day holiday of sun, sand and sea for which we have not paid one penny.  For me, this is a clear indication the “everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines”.

I do not doubt ex Lloyds Chief Executive Eric Daniel’s holiday plans, along with a fair few other HBOS and Lloyd’s executives, will have used tax-payer paid bonuses to finance much more extravagant and exotic summer breaks for their families than mine. I cannot, however, believe it possible for any of them to be looking forward to their vacation more than I am.

This feeling is priceless.

Beat and retreat

During the past two years it has been difficult to remember happiness doesn't come as a result of getting something we don't have, but instead emerges from the recognition and appreciation what we do but these days, when anyone asks why I remained at my husband's side in the light of such adverse circumstances, I always say with conviction, “Because I am not prepared to lose any more than I already have”.Fully aware my life is far from perfect, I am regularly able to rejoice in the knowledge that, despite the constant prevailing and ill wind from HBOS I have succeeded in keeping my family together but it does not allow me to ignore ever emerging evidence of greed, irresponsible behaviour and double standards employed by Lloyds and HBOS

Annoyed it has proved necessary for Steve Baker to campaign for a parliamentary bill to force banks to prepare accounts reflecting a true and accurate illustration of their previous years trading, which have on occasion been as much twenty five million adrift, I have been nothing short of incensed to discover, despite insisting to me they never write off debt, HBOS have been doing precisiely this for the last two years for debts in Ireland amounting  to 7.2 billion. Yet still Eric Daniels, who has recently declared his remaining Irish loan book 54% impaired, has continued to see fit to ignore my personally addressed letters to him asking for debt forgiveness and instead, sanctioned Merrils Ede to crank up their persecution of me. While I am left crushed under a residential shortfall of £217,000, Eric Daniels has, in contrast, cunningly escaped from under Lloyds and HBOS’s own 289 billion shortfall, happily clutching his 1.45 million pound reward for failure on the back of scurrolous accounts and his “very good year” remark.

If HBOS had not forced the sale on our 16^th century tithe barn during our period of crisis in 2008, we too could have had a retirement to look forward to. Assuming we  sold up when my husband reached age 65 (twenty years hence), its anticipated value would be 3.2 million assuming an average annual compound growth of 7% and a current value of £800,000.  Even with a £795,000 mortgage to deduct and £27,000 of arrears we too could have been looking forward to a substantial lump sum to support us in our old dotage.

Some people may well be enjoying the benefit of HBOS and Lloyds “pray and delay” or “extend and pretend” policies while others appear to have experienced the relief of a “forgive and forget” write offs. For me however, it remains HBOS’s policy only to “beat and retreat” behind their Rottweilers at Merrils Ede Solicitors

And 

At present I am at a complete loss to fathom how I can ever change this.

Father's Day

Yesterday I took my children to shop for Father’s Day gifts and guided them towards three suitable purchases within our budget.  Feeling no resentment towards the penny watching regime which has become second nature to us all, I took pride in making sure they understood the value of a thoughtful gift, however small.  We came away with a bargain priced family DVD, a bag of popcorn and a New Scientist magazine. I knew all these item prove more than acceptable to my husband who, since our financial demise, would not dream of buying anything for himself.  I delighted in the joy and the excitement on my children’s faces in their anticipation of the act of giving and the pleasure their gifts would bring to the recipient. 

As with any celebratory day in our household, the children were unable to contain themselves and arrived at our bedroom door bright and early.  I watched my husband carefully unwrap his gifts and discuss its merits with each child without any outward signs of his pleasure and while the children were unphased by his reserve, I struggled to suppress an overwhelming sense of grief for the absence of warmth in his actions towards us.  Oblivious to his inanimate facade, the children quickly moved onto other things secure in the familiarity of family life.  I, on the other hand, was left to talk myself out of the anti climax which always goes hand in hand with my husband’s lack of emotive reaction to anything.

I have attempted to rectify this obstacle in our relationship many times by.

· Explaining how difficult it is for me to live without engagement of this nature, His response has been either, it is just my perception and not at all how he is or I am an excessively needy person and this is a failing in me not him.

· Asking for a smile or a verbal response but in these instances I am told that either my questions are rhetorical and require no answer or he has no inclination to grin like a banshee at my behest.

· Trying to ignore this trait. However, I often feel resentful and deprived of what I perceive as his side of what should be two way communication within our marriage.

On days when I am sure I am deserving of a smile or some warmth, I grieve silently for the lack of it. These days, my face will often mirror the inanimate nature of his as we go about our lives in silence and, on occasion, when my grief turns to anger, I demand to know if he has heard me say how brightly the sun is shining or how well the children have settled at school but my outburst are not pleasant for either of us.

I know my husband does not refuse engagement with me out of malice but his ignorance of his actions and his refusal to consider the long term consequences of this lack of intimacy regularly renders my heart heavy and while I understand the impact of our ongoing precarious financial position has already taken its toll on the fragile ego of this shy and sensitive man, I can see behind his deadpan expression that the three year battering at the hands of our creditors has left him a legacy of shame for his part in it.

Sadly, despite my best efforts, it is on days like these I realise the task of rebuilding our marriage is likely to outstrip the difficulties I am currently experiencing trying to rebuild our lives financially and although I have always subscribed to the, "Whether you think you can or whether you think you can’t, either way you are right" fraternity, today, on our seventeenth Father Days together, 

I simply don’t know what to think or what to do.

Tenants and Tantrums

On Sunday evening Darryl packed his bags and left my home two full days after I told him to vacate and two full days after I told him the cost of the damaged he had caused. Thankfully, as a licensee rather than a tenant with rights, I am at liberty to ask him to leave at any time.   I can only assume he has spent the interim at his parents licking the wounded pride of a homeless thirty five year old businessman who refused to live respectfully in my shared household.

Daryl did not show his face when he skulked away into the night with his dirty possessions and I was not unhappy about this at all.   I have not lost sleep over the somewhat ghastly realisation of what having Daryl living under my roof entailed but, none the less, it hasn’t been one of the highlights of my room letting endeavours. Business minded to the end, I emailed him the following day to request his bank details to enable me to send a partial rent refund direct to his account. This seemingly innocuous action on my part appears to have dispensed with Daryl’s normal inclination to silence in regard to money matters and triggered a torrent of indignation. Daryl may well have got a kick from my firm words of reprimand in the past but he definitely does not like the fact I have snaffled his deposit as recompense for the damaged he has caused.

I am able to make this statement with absolute certainty because he has emailed me, at length, five times today on this subject alone.  It appears he cannot believe steam cleaning curry and excrement out of carpets in two rooms, acid cleaning the flagstone floor, replacing a rug on which he has split every manner of food, and purchasing new bed linen due to the unmentionable stains of his self gratification would add up to a little in excess of £400.

Daryl tells me he really needs this money to re-establish himself elsewhere. He says, unlike me, he has no family or friends in the area on which to rely and nor does he have sufficient funds to be able to afford to forfeit money in this manner. He insists I should immediately return his deposit to him, in full, because he cannot manage if I don’t.  Conceding he did damage the carpets he continues his monologue by offering to pay all reasonable bills (subject to quotes) from next month’s pay packet if I will just refund his deposit in full now.

What Darryl forgets is he has already shown me, for three whole months, how easily lies trip off his tongue if there is any chance of currying favour. Every syllable he has ever uttered has illustrated how much he values his own importance above all else and every month his reluctance to part with any money, even if it is due to me in rent, has declared his already declared his lack of integrity loud and clear.

Darryl is blissfully unaware I am not just a landlady and mother of five but a one woman debt fighting machine living in a rented house for which I am answerable to our landlords for any damage.  Little does he know I battle the wrath of the banks daily while preparing to take on HBOS and Lloyds TSB in the Courts.  He is ignorant of the fact that for three years I have continued to live with this pressure day in day out for the love of my children and to save my family’s future.  Sadly for Darryl he will have no idea his tantrums and threats are falling on deaf and pre-occupied ears because my skin has grown inordinately thick with the relentless flailing of the debt collector’s whip.

Outstanding accounts

As my husband arrived home earlier than unexpected today he found me sitting with a friend in our cosy farmhouse kitchen.  Being a very blustery day, we had chosen warm tea and M&S waste sale chocolate for our refreshment while injured seals were the topic of conversation. This comforting scene was achieved by exercising a well practiced mental manoeuvre which took me swiftly from debt fighting machine to comely housewife and mother in the blink of an eye and, by adopting this facade, I have managed to maintain the divide between our unpalatable past and our family’s future. 

My friend, equally chameleon like in her abilities, played her role of tea drinking companion to perfection as she packed away her computer while chatting about current affairs with my husband.  After a few minutes of pleasantries, she discreetly gathered up the post of the day and made her exit.  She, like my husband, understands the rules only too well.  The financial monster in the cupboard has been strictly out of bounds for him since October 2008.

The letters dispatched today are as consequence of my email being featured on BBC Radio 2.  Host Jeremy Vine was discussing debt related mental health issues with Martin Lewis who gasped when he heard my story.  The task in hand has been to attempt to contact Martin Lewis for help.

One of the many points which were made was even a relatively strong, financially aware person, such as myself, is unable to make suitable and informed decisions while suffering from stress.  The organisations whose livelihoods depend on the collection of debt, trade on this knowledge.  It is little wonder many people, including my husband, are driven to consider suicide because of the debt collecting companies campaigns of unrelenting harassment. In 2008 we were receiving upwards of thirty phone calls a day starting at 8.00am and finishing at 9.00pm. I always answered every one.

For six months my friend watched me attempt to deal with our insurmountable financial problems until April 2009, when, I finally agreed to accept her help.  By this time I had lost 35lbs and every hair on my body.

Today and every day since, my friend has freely given her time to fight my cause. We call it the “Crap Clinic” and we meet regularly to engage in the “Battle of the Banks”.  Because of her determined resolve at a time when I was emotionally on my knees, my £1,000,000 horror story has been reduced to a mere £350,000 nightmare.  Thankfully, she has agreed to see it through with me to the very end.  Without her selfless devotion, I would have undoubtedly collapsed under the pressure.

How can I ever repay her?

Try, try and try again

Abraham Lincoln said, "Whatever you are, make sure you are a good one" and in an effort to step up to the wearing of my somewhat dusty housewifely hat, I made a light lunch for my husband and I to enjoy without our children. During the course of this interlude of domestic bliss my husband looked up from his lunch and, observing my watering eyes, enquired if I had had an allergic reaction to something.

I explained that I had been choking.

However, despite sitting inches away from me across our table, he had been so lost in thought he completey missed my distress and there was a look of incredulous surprise across his face as it dawned on him he had, despite his proximaty, no recollection of what had happened to me.
Basking in the security of the past weeks "warmer glow", I decided, with some misgivings, to use the opportunity to tell him this "moment of absence" was not an isolated incident.

I was totally unprepared for what followed.

Whereas I saw my kindly and carefully voiced disclosure as a way of opening a dialogue from which we might find our way back, my husband saw it as an accusation which required defending.  No amount of explaining  the frequency of these "absent episodes" was not a judgement but merely an observation, would deter him from his argument.  Despite the fact he had acquired, for himself, proof they were a reality, he could not accept his opinion on their frequency was simply invalid.  I thought our objective should be not to query their existence, but to lovingly discuss how best for us both to live with them.

Overwhelmingly tired of the life I could see stetching ahead for me yet desperate to ensure my children do not grow up without a father, I visualised the coming years with a husband constantly in denial of all circumstances and all attributes which displeased him. I was destined be struggling silently to provide family stabilty at the cost of any personal expectations of happiness and retired to bed early with a very heavy heart.

Waking early, I crept out of bed to make a start on my plans for a future without him, only to notice his clothes on the floor discarded from the night before.  They lay carefully and childishly folded in a pile which was too small for their volume and I knew this unsolicited task had been undertaken in an effort to seek my approval.  With my resolve still intact, I made my way to the bedroom door imagining it to be the portal between me and the rest of my life.  My husband stirred with the noise of  my opening the latch the and it was then I heard his muffled words,

"Come back to bed so I can make you a cup of tea".

"Alright then", was my well practised reply,"if you are sure you don't mind"

Whatever I am, be it lover of my family, lover of my husband or just a lover of tea,  I have always endeavoured, like Abraham Lincoln suggests "to be a good one".  I have tried to do the right thing and in this instance I am sure of one thing and one thing only, I am definitely good at trying again and again and again.

Awakenings

I remember reading somewhere there are no limits to an individual’s fascination for themselves and with this in mind I find myself wondering if it is a self-obsession which drives me to continue to blog about my life. Having given this concept some consideration, I have come to the conclusion my motivation has less to do with me than it has to do with my determination to piece my family's life back together. In the last week two things have happened which have made me feel I might, at last, be making some headway in this respect.

The first was a conversation with Ian Fraser whose supportive words gave me a very welcome sign  my rantings on the subject of the Bank of Scotland have been heard. It was an encouraging indication I might have finally acquired a voice and it offered me hope of eventually being more than a mere whisper to a hand full of much valued friends.

The other major development was my husband not only mustered a smiled in my direction but also initiated several conversations with me which were not about the weather. Any attempt at meaningful conversation on his part recently is a huge breakthrough in what has amounted to a debt related marital silence which has lasted for more than two and a half years. I am not sure what has instigated this subtle move from cool to slightly warm but I know he was asked a question by my twelve year old daughter which might have been the catalyst.

She simply wanted know if he loves me and it is my suspicion it may well be this very question, asked in childish innocence which has promoted a shift in his overall disposition. This, along with his awareness now, unlike any other time during our seventeen year marriage, I am either tapping away on my computer or engaged in a variety of activities which are totally independent of him. Perhaps these small changes in me have at last awakened a realisation some interactive effort is required on both sides if he wishes to remain a presence in my life. Who knows what has prompted this change in my husband but whatever the motivation, a little bit of long awaited warmth has been a pleasing occurrence.

So, with these two developments firmly in mind I continue to be hopeful my perceptions are real and not instead illusions which all too often collide with reality only to be dashed to pieces again along with my expectations.