Blissful budgets

Ever mindful that my children’s school holidays should focus on quality family time and not my battle with the banks, it is always my intention to keep my ongoing traumas to within the hours that my children are at school. I believe strictly adhering to this regime for the past three years has not only enabled me to compartmentalise “my work” at the debt fighting coal face at a safe distance from family life, but it has also preserved my sanity, my strength and secured the re-growth of my hair.

Carefully planning my tiny half term budget to attain maximum reward from an income that amounts to little more than 15% of that which we enjoyed before the demise of my husband’s property business I have,

·        Entertained friends and family on a number of occasions courtesy of the plentiful and economically helpful M & S staff waste sale

·        Arranged two cinema trips for early morning showings courtesy of pre-purchased and hugely discounted tickets financed by my mother

·        Repeatedly invited my children’s school friends to visit in an effort to breathe new life into our favourite board and card games.

Although our life style has changed dramatically since the days of the pre-credit crunch melt down of the property market, I take pride in the knowledge we have lived without discomfort and within our means since the terrifying loss of 85% of our income and 100% of our assets in 2008. Resigned to the harsh reality we are no closer to paying off the million pound deficit we were left with, I am thankful our losses have not increased and am relieved that all but a handful of our creditors have accepted pursuing us will be costly and futile.

In contrast to the satisfying peace and quiet of my modest life I am acutely aware Occupy Wall Street protesters and right wing Tea party campaigners alike are far from satisfied that the US government is taking any meaningful steps towards cutting its coat according to the available cloth.  Both factions continue to be incensed by an untenable situation created entirely by the greedy casino banker’s courtship of subprime lending. As a consequence of this flawed mortgage business together with their hoodwinking of governments and institutions alike into believing their lending books were, in fact, perfectly safe vehicles for the cautious investor, the subsequent government banking bailouts have taken the US national debt to an unprecedented fifteen trillion dollars leaving this unwieldy super power teetering on the verge of global default.

While US politicians attempt to thrash out a solution to government cash flow issues which, if put in household terms, involve expenditure of nearly twice the budget and with only 10% in cut backs to help balance the books, I have been forced to break my holiday embargo on my own credit crunch war due to one of the very banks who actively tailored their lending portfolio to suit subprime borrowers and then required a government bailout of 3.55 billion dollars in November 2008 because of their recklessness. US based Capital One have not only authorised the sending of three letters to me over this half term period but left me feeling both anxious and confused over their content.

This week alone Capital One tell me they are,

·        Happy to look into why they have been instructed to pursue us in the light of receipt of the copy letter they sent me last year stating their decision was not to pursue us. I am asked to “bare with them” while the matter is investigated.

·        Instructing immediate court action as I have repeatedly failed to communicate with them and have left them no alternative.

·        Employing the services of a doorstep collection agent, an action which I, so say, have brought on myself by making no attempt to respond to their numerous attempts to contact me.

Incensed by three such conflicting pieces of correspondence I rang Capital One’s UK agent and asked them which letter I should regard as an accurate indication of their intentions only to be told it was impossible to know as Capital One do not reply to their letters!

I can only conclude, just like their UK counterparts who also chose to romance subprime lending and create fictitious lending book valuations, Capital One are far too busy to deal with their correspondence.  I have little doubt their days are taken up with counting the benefits of privatising the gains they have secured from their government bailouts while the rest of us mere mortals are left smarting from the global fallout of their nationalised debts.

I was interested to read the words of ancient Roman lawyer and statesman Marcus Tullius Cicero who said,

“The budget should be balanced. Public debt should be reduced. The arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed, lest Rome become bankrupt.”

I feel safe to say this is evidence that some things never change.

Disgruntled Devils

Against the back drop of David Cameron’s “Let them eat cake guidance,” amidst declarations that the coalition has the bankers under control and while UK individuals are reported to be falling by the financial wayside to the tune of 334 people a day, I have managed to acquire a week of personal hell that has nothing to do with being the victim of a global economic crisis.

In an effort to indentify my adversary it would be,

·        wrong to conclude that I have suffered an overload of Friends work due to three committee meetings, one coffee morning and the horrors of preparing and giving a speech to the parents at Harvest Festival.

·        misguided to believe I have again fallen foul of the locking of marketing committe horns whilst endeavouring to solicit structure to their plans to promote the school

·        inaccurate to assume exhaustion from discussions to;

            over haul the schools corporate identity and website,
            explore the merits of hosting a cultural day of music as a marketing tool,  
            launch my plan for a Bollywood dinner dance for the Friends spring fund raiser.

·        incorrect to surmise I am overwhelmed with the organisational duties of a Friends Quiz night, a Bonfire Celebration or a Christmas Craft Fair supporting local industry all hosted in  my children's school

·        totally without grounds to conclude I am impatient of my sometimes lengthy duties in attendance of my elderly mother’s dental needs, shopping trips or visits to a nursing home to see her friend,

·        mistaken to believe it is correspondence from resurfacing creditors breaking their months of  agreed silence on compassionate grounds only to declare their newly formulate intentions to implement debt recovery immediately.

and

  ·        erroneous to decide it is two letters from the Ombudsman, the first warning of a twelve week delay for my Lloyds complaint that refutes the default status of a ficticious payment arrangement and the second advising me my adjudicator is still on holiday so will be unable to deal with my eight page reply defending my HBOS complaint.

It would, however, be entirely correct to assume my week on hot coals has stemmed from the discovery my super-bright sixteen year old son is predicting a grade C in A level Psychology which may well preclude him from obtaining a place at the university of his choice. Indignant at the lack of his tutor’s foresight and with no inkling of any contrition, he remains in denial that this blemish on his hitherto astonishingly good academic record has been anything to do with him.

Repeatedly amused by John Clarke and Bryan Dawe’s U Tube postings portraying bankers behaving like disgruntled children did not prepare me to for the image of my teenage boy behaving very much like a disgruntled banker. The outcome of this irresponsible attitude, not unlike like the state of the economy, has been anything but a joke!

Determined not to rest on my laurels despite fierce adolensent opposition I have;

negotiated a reprieve by securing him a chance to improve his predicted grade over half term,

declared him unavailable for work at his part time lifeguard job with immediate effect,

curtailed his socialising and imposed an internet/face book curfew until this matter is in hand.

For these acts of educational concern and unsolicited interference I am now viewed, as some would also say of the Wall street protestors, a demonic and overly dramatic hysteric.

Thankfully I can take solace in the knowledge that although heaven is said to have the best weather, hell is reputed to have the best company and if Devil Woman is a disposition I must maintain to expose the banks, avoid compromising my integrity and save my sons future, at least I and the Occupy Wall Street protestors in New York will have some interesting conversations to look forward to as our reward.

Despicable Me

Buddha said, “Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle yet the life of this candle will not be shortened”, and by the same token, “happiness never decreases by being shared”.  It saddens me to hear these words because although I believe them to be true, it is not how married life is for me.

My husband’s monotones seep into every crevice of our lives and his overall lack of enthusiasm is only punctuated by occasional self-amusement at a play on words that comes to mind from listening, but not engaging, in the conversation of others.  Perfectly able to speak with animation about a new piece of information he has acquired, he sees no need to offer even a hint of a smile when conversing in other ways.  To him it is excessive and unnecessary to crease his dead pan facade as he either enters a room or sees a familiar face across a crowd, even when it’s me.

My daughter, now almost thirteen, calls him “Daddy glum face” as she teases him about his expressionless demeanour.  He replies, without offence, that it would be uncomfortable if he smiled any more than he already does and, as he sits blanked faced throughout every meal, every car journey and what seems like every moment, I regularly wonder how many hours of silence I have spent with him to date and consider, with sadness, how many more I still have to come.

“Move on,” I tell myself in moments of desperation only to have my resolve falter at the price my children will pay for my inability to cope with the man they love.

“Get help”, say my friends when I tell them, in tears, about his mood swings of indifference to rage, only to find I shrink from the task of broaching the subject with him, let alone finding the money to fund it.

“Keep trying,” is the voice that persists, in spite of his wagging finger declaring the fault lies entirely with me. For this is a broken man I speak of who once was my closest friend in a time gone by, before bereavement, before debt and before financial despair. 

They say that sometimes being a friend means knowing when to exercise the art of timing, with a time for silence, a time to let go and a time to leave well alone for people to hurl themselves at their own destiny.

·        I have been silent while he built a business on what proved to be foundations of sand

·        I have let go so he could seek his own destiny and achieve great things in his own right 

However, it is also said a friend should be prepared to pick up the pieces when it’s all over.

“But how” I ask, “do you pick up a man in pieces when he believes himself to be whole with no part of the problem lieing with him?”

I end today knowing there is no delight for me in a life unshared and sadly, all too often these days it is my computer, not my husband, that is my closest friend.

Infiltrations

Having read that the Smurf’s have recently been seen on Wall Street opening the New York stock exchange, I am beginning to wonder if, far from being a new development, Smurf’s have in fact been quietly infiltrating our financial institutions for quite some.  If this is indeed the case, the meaningless correspondence I continue to receive from Lloyds Bank is perfectly understandable when one considers it may well have been written by a large blue fluffy creature with very little between its ears.

Amidst the comings and goings that go hand in hand with children at home for the summer holidays, it appears I am now be subjected to a Lloyds Banking Group “pincer action”. On the one hand Merrils Ede Solicitors are waiting like vigilantes to pounce in the hope that the Financial Ombudsman will throw me to back to these HBOS wolves, while on the other, Lloyds TSB’s credit card and small loans department are bludgeoning me to distraction with their stupidity. The frustration of getting nowhere in both directions at once is nothing short of infuriating and, as ever, threatens me with yet another migraine melt down.

The crux of the matter is this.

I and the CAB have only ever corresponded with Lloyds TSB to ask them to forgive my husband’s credit card debt and personal loan (amounting to approximately £20,000) on the grounds of an inability to pay, combined with compassionate reasons. Lloyds TSB have spent two years ignoring these letters and then, just over twelve months ago, invented a communication in which it was agreed a payment arrangement should be set up. I have no knowledge of making an arrangement with them of any kind and nor haas the CAB so have I repeatedly asked for the documentary evidence on which they have based this assumption.

A multitude of letters later and almost year on, Lloyds continue to fail to supply me with anything. My exhaustive efforts have managed to ascertain nothing more than their repeated confirmation that a payment arrangement has definitely been made. Today’s letter states, yet again, this is their final response and advises me to deal direct with their collection agents in the future. This is, I am told, customary with debts that are in default of a payment arrangement.

Stupidity of this magnitude has led me to believe this level of stupidity can only be the work of ungoverned Smurfs if Smurf history is to be believed.

In 1964 when the first of their adventures were being heard, Smurfs were experiencing a leadership struggle following the disappearance of Papa Smurf. Although two potential leaders were soon indentified the Smurf population quickly became disenchanted when trying to arrange a vote because Smurf’s, as a rule, prefer only to vote for themselves. The community continued to struggled between choosing one candidate who was intent on making empty promises and using demagogical tactics and another who was arrogant and opinionated. Order and productivity ground to a halt while battle broke out between the independent factions. Thankfully, after much discontent and disruption amongst the entire Smurf population, Papa Smurf returned to save the day immediately restoring harmony and industry in the Smurf village once again.

If my suspicions are correct, the reason my requests are being continually ignored is because they are falling on the ears of ungoverned Smurfs within the Lloyds Banking Group. If this is truly the situation, Papa Smurf must return to restore order and productivity amongst these Smurf dissenters as a matter of urgency. I believe his presence is imperative I am to have any hope of procuring some sense out of Lloyds Banking Group and the tax payer is to avoid paying the price of banking lunancy once again .

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.

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.

God's banker

Finding myself in need of some respite from my role as Battler of the Banks, I embarked on some recreational research. In doing so I discovered Ian Fraser’s article of March 2009 about God’s Banker. Without reading any further I knew immediately this piece was about Stephen Green, Chief Executive of HSBC.

Having asked the Citizen’s Advice Bureau in January 2009 to help me deal with our creditors I was still sinking under the weight of the abusive correspondence from HSBC. Despite a full CAB explanation of our circumstances, the correspondence from the debt collection agency appointed by HSBC was becoming increasingly threatening in its nature. In desperation I went into the local HSBC branch in June 2009 to explain our position only to be met with the staff’s expressions of hopelessness along with apathetic comments which got me nowhere. I arrived at my friend Chris's house in tears believing there was to be no end to HSBC’s demands and my plight was indeed as hopeless as intimated by the branch employees.

After issuing a few comforting words, my trusty friend and comrade at arms fired up her computer with the statement, “I think it’s time to write to the Chief Executive.” Moments later we were reading that HSBC’s man at the top was an ordained Anglican Priest who had spent a year working at a hostel for alcoholics and I allowed myself a flicker of hope. Believing I might be approaching a man of integrity, I wrote to Stephen Green asking for his compassion in the light of our irreversibly dire financial circumstances and asked if he could arrange for my husband’s debts with HSBC to be written off rather than relentlessly and heartlessly pursued. Mr Green did not disappoint.

In reply to my letter, the Head of HSBC Customer Relations advised me they would not only be writing off the £45,000 my husband owed them directly but they were also able to write off a further £15,000 of credit card debt which was under their management. They concluded with the words they “hoped their decision would bring me comfort and it would go some way towards allowing you and your family to make a fresh start without the worries of the past.” This time I was crying with relief.

Ian Fraser says, “At last an honest banker,” and quotes Stephen Green as saying,
“It is as if, too often, people had given up asking whether something was the right thing to do, and focused only on whether it was legal and complied with the rules. The industry needs to recover a sense of what is right and suitable as the key impulse for doing business” and while Ian founds his remarks “hugely refreshing” I found his actions hugely humane.

However, I find it hugely inhumane HBOS and Lloyds Banking Group still chose to operate in heartless contrast to the kind and logical words, and actions, of God's banker while two years on from the release of my husband’s obligations to HSBC I am still struggling to make any kind of “fresh start” because of their persecution of us.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Eighteenth century Irish statesman, author orator and political theorist Edmund Burke once said, "Bad things happen when good men do nothing" and I cannot help but wonder if over the last seventeen years of marriage my “doing nothing” was pivotal to our subsequent financial demise.  

When I retired from the financial services industry on grounds of ill health in 1998 I handed the bread-winning reins over to my husband, confident my financial reputation was safe in his hands.  At the time, I was half way through my pregnancy with our second child and suffering from exhaustion and chronic migraine brought on by over work, along with hypothyroidism and something which was later diagnosed as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

At the age of forty and on the recommendation of my very supportive GP, I moved from a business life in the fast lane to one with my family and home at its center.  For the first two years we were supported by my accruals from the insurance industry and an income protection policy which paid out in the event of my ill health.  My husband was confident he could use the time provided by this short-term financial safety net to build a business using the capital we already had and in so doing take over the responsibility of providing for our family.  He showed me his figures for a ten year plan which involved selling our seven bedroom house together with my former matrimonial home to fund a “buy to let” portfolio which was to replace my income.  The balance from the sale was to provide seed money for a property development business he planned to run alongside the lettings business.  His research was extensive and his figures were both realistic and plausible. This supporting evidence, together with his track record for the successful refurbishment of two previous properties led me to believe I could relax into my role of housewife and mother for the first time in my adult life.  
  
Ten years on I was still basking in the knowledge my husband’s carefully constructed business plan had proved to be a successful one.  I was further encouraged to buy into the illusion of affluence when it was suggested we pay school fees well in advance so as to enjoy a discount. We enjoyed regular visits to our beautifully appointed apartment on the Costa Del Sol and commissioned a high quality finish for our sixteenth century grade two listed barn conversion which was to become our home. The sad and untimely demise my mother-in-law from Motor Neurone disease left my husband with additional capital of £200,000 in the summer of 2007 providing me with no reason to think we had any financial problems.

Within a year I discovered my husband was contemplating taking his own life with his shotgun and we were one million pounds in the red with not a single asset to our name.

When I exchanged my status as a business woman of integrity for the role of house wife and mother I had no reason to believe that, along with my financial integrity, I was giving up my right to make informed decisions about borrowings in my name.  Now, nearly three years on from the “Grand Opening,” I realize my husband made a permanently life changing decision when he risked my much valued reputation along without our home, our livelihood and our financial future and chose to withhold information from me about our joint borrowings. It is my belief he was suffering from mental health issues resulting from his unresolved grief following the long period of illness and the loss of two of his closest family members. Circumstances of which our lender and mortgage broker were both fully aware of at the time.

However, the Bank of Scotland had no such  excuse and they chose to remove my right to the information which could have saved my home and my financial reputation because I was married to the co- borrower. Instead, through unadulterated negligence, they joined forces with my unstable, grief stricken husband and set in motion a course of events which  I continue to pay the consequences of today.

Having made this enormous contribution to our financial demise the Bank of Scotland  now tell me it is I should who pick up the cost of their mistake. Before this act of gross negligence, I had a good reputation which was threatened by my husband’s bad judgement.  However, the ugly business practices of the Bank of Scotland have not only turned my family’s difficult circumstances into impossible ones, they have also relieved me of my financial reputation along with home and financial future and while it may well be true  bad things happen when good men do nothing, I have learned many things since finding myself in such unfortunate circumstances.  One of them is I am not, and never have been, comfortable with doing nothing.

These days I now find myself wondering what the going rate is for a reputation. To me it was priceless but it is almost certainly worth a lot more than a £217,000 shortfall.

Debts and rubber ducks

Why is it some people, finding they do not know the answer to the question you have asked, simply make up questions they can answer in order to give a reply? I have just spent twenty minutes on the telephone to someone within the debt advisory services who has chosen to do just that. My difficulties seem to arise because I am quite often more knowledgeable than the people from whom I can afford to seek expertise yet I still feel it is necessary to take advice because I don't feel knowledgeable enough to be confident in my decision making without have a sounding board.

This morning’s frustrations have stemmed from my Heritable Hero’s offer to “encourage” the Bank of Scotland to accept an Individual Voluntary Arrangement. This IVA would include my husband’s remaining personal creditors of £73,000, business creditors of £75,000, together with some non hostile credit card debt which is not being pursued as well as our mortgage shortfall of £217,000. Heritable Bank have already agreed to write off our shortfall of £209,000 but have suggested, as an alternative, I consider whether it would be beneficial for me to use Heritable’s offer to force my hostile creditors (Bank of Scotland, Lloyds TSB, Nat West, MBNA, Abbey National, Cahoot and Capital One) into accepting an IVA. This will not require a monetary outlay, but instead could be a method by which to render them powerless to pursue me.

While putting an end to the financial pressure is a very attractive proposition, I desperately feel the need for an expert to go through the nuts and bolts of it with me so I can make an informed decision.  My layman’s understanding of the rulings are that as long as 75% of my creditors agree, I can pay whatever is acceptable to them (rubber ducks was one suggestion) and be home and dry without any more postal panic, doorstep claw hammer threats or armed police responses ever again.

But is this the best course of action for me to take right now?

With this question in mind I made National Debt Line my first stop.  After updating my financial fact find and fending off the advisor’s urges to launch into a discussion on bankruptcy with me, I was told I could not consider an IVA without doing an income and expenditure analysis to assess my disposable income. When I explained  they had completely lost sight of the fact I may well be paying in rubber ducks, their rather shirty reply was this was not the normal way to approach an IVA and it was their opinion most people would look at something in the region of twenty pence in the pound.

Having finally got him to accept rubber ducks were precisely the kind of IVA both I and Heritable Bank had in mind, he had to concede this was indeed, technically, a possibility but felt it was imperative I go on hold while they checked with their legal department whether it would be possible for Heritable Bank to make me do this!  It took me several minutes more to convince him nobody was attempting to force me to pay them in rubber ducks, or anything else for that matter.  Finally, broken and confused, but still trying to save face, my advisor agreed to allow me to ask him my question.

“Now you are in possession of all the facts,” I said, “is this a feasible way forward for me right now?”

Of course his answer was, “I couldn’t possibly answer a question of this kind. You will have to ask an insolvency practitioner but remember you will have to pay.”

I have always been aware that the odds of going into a supermarket for a loaf of bread and coming out with just a loaf of bread are three billion to one.  I had foolishly hoped that National Debt Line would have at least allowed me my loaf of bread but I suppose I shouldn't have been looking at a bakery for pearls of wisdom. 

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?

Postal Panic

Former stand up comedian, youth counsellor and advocate of social emotional learning Michael Pritchard once said, "Fear is that little darkroom where negatives are developed" and as a result of my ongoing experiences at the hands of the banks, my fear is now fully developed into an all encompassing and completely involuntary negative reaction whenever I catch sight of our postman.

Frequently terrified to the core at a mere glimpse of a Royal Mail van outside my house, the feeling of utter defenselessness has been further heightened now I have been advised by the Citizen’s Advice Bureau that their debt counselling budget for my case has been exhausted. Despite the fact that I rarely receive any correspondence I am unable to deal with these days, I seem to be incapable of allowing logic to suppress my panic. This is the price I am paying for attempting to deal direct with the banks following a financial demise which left my family without an income and homeless, and my husband with forty four defaulted credit cards, four defaulted mortgages and a substantial number of the irate tradesmen.

Initially, my daily mission was to speak or write in response to every letter received in the belief that taking action would be the antidote to the all consuming terror I felt at our hopeless financial position. Needless to say I got nowhere. At best the collections departments were sympathetic but all insisted they had no means of communicating with the decision makers within their own organisations and as a result their hands were tied. The postal persecution continued. Forty letters a day advised me I had ignored all previous attempts to communicate, bailiffs would be calling to assess my assets and doorstep collection agents were imminent. The notification of court cases pending were too numerous to even warrant separate files. Despite constantly communicating with each and every one of them the heartless harassment continues and repeatedly trying to resolve the seemingly unresolvable cost me my hair and my health.

Today, thankfully, my postman brought only good news yet the short term relief from a single day of respite remains blighted by the knowledge that tomorrow my fears of further threats will probably be justified. Persecution by post has consumed my life, my health and my marriage and now, in addition to living with the horrors of a million pounds of unresolvable debt I also fear, if the banks continue to have their way, postal panic is not a condition I will ever be allowed to recover from.

I hope and pray I am wrong.

It's a mad, mad world

Along with the other Mum’s of the year five children at my son’s prep school, I am nearing the completion of their longitudinal study.  I am expecting to do quite well, in a nine year old boy sort way, but can’t for the life on me understand why, each year, the unwritten school law dictates this project should be produced. If the Mum’s are hard at work producing it then surely it is beyond the ability of the vast majority of the pupils for whom it is set.

 There is however, a bi-product.  The expectation for me to turn a small boy’s efforts into something the school can be proud of has allowed me to become an expert on Lord Kelvin the mathematician and physicist.  When, during my research, I discovered Lord Kelvin said “you can understand perfectly if you give your mind to it,” I found myself sighing in exasperation at my endless, and so far fruitless, attempts to have a meaningful dialogue with Lloyds TSB and HBOS.

Further frustrated at more examples of Lloyds TSB’s mindless and misguided actions when I read journalist and BBC reporter Ian Fraser’s recent blog I can't but be incredulous to discover Antonio Horta-Osorio is being rewarded with a “golden hello” in excess £13,000,000 in recognition of the difficulties he is to face in his new job as trouble shooter extraordinaire. Having written to Antonio Horta-Osorio twice recently I do not rate his chances at living up to the board of Lloyds TSB’s expectations if my experiences are anything to go by. My first letter to him was as Chief Executive of Santander. I wrote in an effort to solicit some support and compassion following an Abbey National campaign of bombardment due to our credit card default.

 On the second occasion I wrote to him in his role as Chief Executive of Lloyds TSB.  In this letter I asked him to intervene with HBOS. They have, over the course of two years, been harassing and bullying me in an effort to collect on a debt they know to be unrecoverable and which still hold they created.   In both cases I did not receive a reply and although I concede I am but a small fish, it does not bode well if organisations cannot communicate with their customers and  instead continue to waste share holders money chasing unrecoverable debt.  If this is too change I, like Ian Fraser, cannot see how paying Executives lavish rewards at any time, let alone in a recession,  can do anything other than massage their egos to the point of deity status.  To pay them obscene amounts before they have achieved any of the anticipated results seems nothing short of ludicrous. 

Lord Kelvin also said, “When you are faced with a difficulty, you are up against a discovery” and after the past two years of extreme financial and emotional hardship I can only agree  I have discovered after much personal difficult with both HBOS bankers and my son's longitudinal study,  the madness is clearly set to continue in both the banking world and at my son’s prep school.

Enough is a feast

Although life has moved on since the "grand opening" my experiences at the hands of creditors throughout my most difficult months continue to visit me when I meet the people who were in my life at the time. These moments of recall have provided me with a sizable store of character assessments which leap into view as soon as a name or face comes to mind.

Over the extended bank holiday weekend we received a number of invitations which, this year, I have felt able to accept. and it has resulted in rubbing shoulders with many friends and neighbours from our more affluent past. While chatting with them I found myself thinking of their reactions at the height of our financial crisis and I realise many of them have undeservedly not had a mention. So here goes.

• A friend from the financial service industry, in spite of being overwhelmed with serious health issues himself spent numerous hours listening to me while he and I poured over my action plan for the reassembly of my family's life. When I repeatedly broke down distraught, he paused to give me a hug and once I had regained my composure, pressed on. It was on this day and from his and his wife's peaceful home I made my most difficult phone calls. It enabled me to cry and be comforted each time I put down the telephone. His wife gave me jumpers to wear as I shivered from the cold brought on from shock and made lots of hot comforting tea. Later she encouraged me to ride out with her on their horses to give me respite from the onslaught of our creditors for the sake of my sanity. I cannot begin to explain how much their rock like support helped me in those early days and while we had a simple supper at their house last night and I was warmed by these memories.

• A single working mother of three, with a great deal of sadness in her own heart at the time, regularly opened her doors at unearthly hours of the day and night to me. I was distraught with the size of the financial problems I was discovering on a daily basis and needed sanctuary the seemingly unrepentant and uncaring attitude of my husband. It was her faith in God and her passionate belief the family unit is paramount which helped me stick with my marriage at a time when I felt compelled to throw in the towel in disgust. As I watched all our children have water fights in her garden over an al fresco lunch I remembered the hours of compassion she showed me in my hour of need.
• A couple in a neighbouring village who realised Christmas 2008 was likely to be very bleak for our children, sorted out their children's unwanted toys and put together a few things that I could wrap and present on Christmas morning. This act of kindness made it possible for our lack of funds, at an expensive time of year, go unnoticed by our three children on Christmas day. This same couple two weeks later lent us their car and their horse box to move house and supplied us with furniture to make it possible for us to have our first lodger. As I sat amongst their closest friends this weekend while enjoying a barbecue at their house, I remembered how pivotal they were in getting us back on our feet again in those early days.

Not everyone in our lives behaved so caringly and a glimpse of these other people can transport me to much less savoury recollections.

• A friend with whom I had spent a great deal of time supporting during a period in which she was suffering a stress related to a bullying incident at work made a comment which left me both speechless and hurt. In spite of knowing full well  we had lost our home only days before, she said she was very angry she had been forced to forgo her holiday because it had taken me six months to pay £700.00 we owed her husband for work done in our property business. He comments      left me reeling, emotionally exposed and let down. I had no idea she wasn't sympathetic to my plight or appreciate the efforts to which I had gone to ensure she and her husband were not amongst the £1,000,000 creditors who have remain unpaid.
• Someone I formally regarded as one of my closest friends refused a dinner invitation because unbeknown to me, my husband had previously owed her £250.00 for over a year. Although I immediately paid her from the little money I had at the time, she has never spoken to me since. I wept for many weeks as I felt bereft of the close friendship I thought we had enjoyed for ten years.
• A long standing friend became embarrassed by my frankness about our financial position but quickly switched to being incensed by the fact I was offered bursaries for my three children's independent education. She too has declined my many invitations to socialise. I was deeply saddened this twenty year friendship did not withstand our financial demise.

Believing the old adage that, "books like friends should be few but good" I have thankfully let go of these images of rejection. I am happy and content to bask in the love of the resilient people who have helped us through thick and thin in the knowledge these caring souls will always qualify as friends. Because of these experiences I am wholeheartedly able to confirm, in my case, enough is definitely as good as a feast.

Eating elephants

Anne Elliot in Jane Austen's Persuasion says women, more than men, feel the pain of tragedy for longer. I can only concur, as in my case, this appears to be only too  true. Where my husband has put the agony of our financial failure behind him, I am still, on occasion, haunted by the horrors of our demise along with the painful, frightening experiences which went with it. The memory of the vicious verbal attacks I received, together with the shame and discomfort I felt in our disgrace, can still make my stomach churn nearly three years later.

Never before have I ever had to explain to anyone, although substantial funds were owed to them, there was nothing in the pot with which to pay them. I saw this unpalatable disclosure as an act of "reneging" on our part and it was totally alien to me. I have always previously paid my way in full and I was tormented by the impact our downfall might have on other people’s lives. It was a phone call to an insolvency practitioner which helped me order my feelings about our circumstances. He did this by asking one simple question.

"Who took the commercial risk?"

This uncomplicated approached produced a healthy shift in attitude which enabled my almost instant recovery from a paralysis, self loathing and guilt which until this point enveloped me. Amidst the panic and chaos of discovering we were not only penniless but £1,000,000 in the red, I could finally see it certainly wasn't me who had taken a commercial risk and bizarrely enough it wasn't really my husband either. Applying this simple principal to each debt enabled me to start thinking rather than reacting. I immediately calculated, out of all the people we owed, who had and who had not taken a commercial risk. When it came to it, almost all our creditors had, while in full possession of all their faculties, entered a business arrangement with my husband which had not worked out. Unfortunate it may well have been, but nevertheless the decision to extend a line of credit to my husband was taken by business people who knew full well "you cannot win them all".

So if I, a fifty three year old house wife and mother of five, while suffering from shock and a debilitating grief has managed to grasp this basic principal, why are the business savvy high fliers at LLoyds TSB and the Bank of Scotland struggling to get a grip on the details of our situation and the futility of their pursuit?

I have recently discover the answer to this question in is BBC broadcaster and journalist Ian Fraser's report of February 2010. He explains why Halifax Bank of Scotland is the worst bank in the world and relays "it's calamitous seven year history". Not only were their executives "dangerously out of control and probably fraudulent" in their single minded high risk pursuit of short-term profits, but their initiatives held no regard for the long term cost to their share holders nor did they consider how their lending decisions would harm their customers. The executive directive appears to have been to achieve short-term profits regardless of the consequences. With this course set, Halifax Bank of Scotland's reckless and irresponsible behaviour was ultimately aided and abetted by the decision of the FSA to turn a blind eye to the banks blatant wrong doings. This created a toxic recipe was not only the undoing of many individuals but provides the back drop to my ongoing attempts to communicate my resulting financial distress to HBOS who, instead of showing understanding, have now become out tormentors.
More recently the Bank of Scotland and Lloyds TSB's have both adopted a pious public disposition to what they now choose to view as "other people's indulgences". It has made them impossible to reason with them over a £217,000 shortfall which they refuse to admit their own actions created. Unlike me and the our other creditors (totalling £600,000) all of whom have accepted we are without the means with which to repay them, these too big to fail banking institutions seem unable to comprehend they are merely dealing with a misjudged commercial risk from which they must move on. However I know this holier than though attitude is merely an elephant in the HBOS room which, if I am to enjoy any hope of a debt free future with my family, must be consumed. Thankfully I have it on the very best authority this task is a perfectly feasible one if I am prepared to approach it with one bite at a time.

With the help of some much valued prompting from friends and sympathetic bankers who have already written off our debts, I can see it is most definitely time to invite the media to the table. Here's hoping Ian Fraser, Jeremy Paxman, Jeremy Vine and anyone else who is prepared to listen have a penchant for a banquet of HBOS elephant.

Silence is not golden

On waking this morning I looked from my bedroom window to see my husband tending the plants in our walled garden. While watching him go about his tasks, I realised I could not imagine myself, twenty years from now, living a life without him. This revelation came as quite a surprise to me as, in recent months, I have struggled to imagine how I can possibly live the rest of my life with him. From my vantage point I could clearly picture us together, him in his dotage, pottering about in a tiny courtyard garden while I continue to write. I visualise myself, periodically glancing out at his endeavours from a small comfortable house where the days are long, stress free and always sunny.

Today my husband has taken our three children to their respective schools, brought me five unsolicited cups of tea and watered a multitude of M & S waste sale plants recently procured for our garden. All this has been achieved before 8.30 am and before having his breakfast. Although none of these tasks have been at my request, I am in no doubt all he has done, has been in an effort to please me, to help me and to show me he cares. However, in spite of these admirable motives, no words have escaped his lips and no smile has surfaced on his emotionless face. As ever, he has gone about everything in complete silence without any visible signs of warmth towards me and not even the slightest flicker of animation has entered his blank expressionless exterior.

This absence of interaction with me has become the norm and I know he does not see it as unloving or neglectful. He is secure in his belief his actions speak louder than any words he could possibly utter. He sees these homely duties as a declaration of his love and in his mind, this declaration is at full volume when he is being at his most helpful. It has not occurred to him  this understated way of maintaining a relationship might not be enough for me. He gives no thought as to whether or not I can hear his silent proclamations. Nor does he wonder if I am, in fact, aware of his mute, dead pan devotion.

Once upon a time, before irresolvable debt screamed louder than any silent acts of affection, I loved this man for his quiet understated need to silently nurture all things, including me. Now all I see is a man who continues to be helpful by ordering oil for my Aga, arranging our insurance and even cleaning the kitchen bin rather than tell me he loves or cherishes me. However, our harsh reality dictates my idyllic vision is unlikely to be only twenty years hence but nearer a million light years away from where we are now.

It seems beyond him to offer me an occasional kind word or small sign of appreciation. A smile in greeting or in understanding, an acknowledgement which is vital to me, is simply not part of his repertoire. Every day I wonder if he has realised it is the withholding of these simple but priceless things which will eventually cost us our marriage and not the undisclosed and irresolvable debt.

Simple Truths

It appears, in my case, the Financial Ombudsman is not a man but instead a woman. I know this because she has written to me today advising me unless I have a strong argument to the contrary, she will not be able to investigate my complaint against the Bank of Scotland. Apparently, this is not because I have no case, but merely because it is more than the six months since I have, so say, received the Bank of Scotland's letter of final response.

Thankfully, my knowledgeable friend Chris has a different take on this and has spent a whole afternoon with me writinge a reply which hopefully illustrates I am entitled to be heard. After all, the Bank of Scotland's agents Merrils Ede have been in correspondence with me on the Bank of Scotland’s behalf, both via the CAB as well as directly with me, as recently as January 2011. I can only hope this argument of mine (and Chris's) carries weight so I able to make use of the Ombudsman's service to get to the bottom of the three questions I have been asking the Bank of Scotland since October 2008.

1. Why did the Bank of Scotland proceed with forcing the sale of our home?

• in spite of new government guide lines discouraging this heavy handed approach,
• in spite of their actions escalating £27,000 of arrears into £217,000 of shortfall
• in spite of knowing we had a long term tenant willing to pay rent which covered the interest payments.

2. Why has the Bank of Scotland persisted in repeatedly seeking a payment arrangement to recover the shortfall?

• in spite of knowing full well we have no means with which to do so
• in spite of knowing the FSA guidelines specifically recommend lenders should not pursue people who have no money
• in spite of having already written off our credit card on compassionate grounds because of my husband’s breakdown

3. Why has the Bank of Scotland repeatedly ignored letters from me asking for information to support my case against them?

• in spite of being requested to do so three times in the last six weeks
• in spite of being repeatedly sent reminders
• in spite of being told, at their suggestion, I am taking the case to the Ombudsman

I can only hope my Ombudsman has teeth because the truth of the matter is I cannot afford the alternative. I am told it will cost £40,000 to take the Bank of Scotland to court and although I have it on good authority I do have a case against them, sadly, it does not qualify for "no win no fee" status. If this is the norm there is little wonder the Bank of Scotlands of this world have grown accustomed to riding roughshod over us mere mortals, safe in the knowledge we have no means which which to fight back. It suspect it may well be the subject of much amusement for them knowing people in my position have no real chance of being heard. 

There is, however, one aspect the Bank of Scotland has felt perfectly able to write to me about and while one might think it is some form of debt counselling or perhaps even legal or bankruptcy advice, the truth of the matter is the Bank of Scotland is extremely comfortable writing to confirm they have, at last, noted my new address. They have done this no fewer than eight times. According to the American author Henry Thoreau, it takes two to speak the truth, one to speak and one to hear. With this in mind, maybe I should stop lamenting that which the Bank of Scotland seem unable to hear and I should, instead, be taking solace in the simple truth I have, nearly two years down the line, succeeded in getting the Bank of Scotland to realise because they forced the sale of my home two years previously, I now have a new address.