Tales of the Unexpected

American writer and humorist Marcelene Cox once said, “A vacation frequently means that the family goes away for a rest, accompanied by a mother who sees that the others get it” and for me the long wet school summer holidays have been no exception.

Over the past two months I have,

·        Cooked, cleaned and laundered for a household which has, on occasion, swelled to include an extra dozen people.

·        Escorted, dispatched and collected anything up to six passengers at any one time for delivery to a variety of destinations.

·        Shopped, chopped and packed vast quantities of picnic food for children, grandchildren and a full complement of adults.

·        Trawled, surfed, scrutinised and visited a plethora of venues to amuse both visiting family members and our offspring.

I have also,

·        Purchased and sewn fifty name tapes into my daughter’s new school uniform.

·        Made countless visits to my eighty five year old mother.

·        Assumed the role of appropriate adult for innumerable sight tests, dental checks and haircuts.

·        Sourced, priced and pondered over inordinated volumes of second hand English and Creative writing books for my sons university reading list.

·        Read, researched and commented on numerous articles exploring the ongoing global financial crisis

And,

·        Written, posted and tweeted several pieces for my Life After Debt blog.

However, because family commitments have pushed me close to the point of overload during the past nine weeks, I have not, until now, registered there has been a great deal I haven’t done.

I have not,

·        Endured repeated demands for payment from our creditors

·        Written a single letter concerning our precarious financial predicament

And nor have I,

·        Received a long overdue response from Lloyds Banking Group, HBOS or the Financial Ombudsman’s Service adjudicator with regard to my over valuation complaint.

Grateful, in some respects, to have been free of all debt fighting angst throughout the school break, it has not, however, been a summer without results.

I have,

·        Received many supportive and constructive comments on my posts

·        Acquired a mounting number of new Life After Debt followers every week

·        Had my Great Expectations post retweeted by several readers including Occupy Wall Street

And,

·        Been invited by Huffington Post Live to discuss LIBOR manipulation with former Minister of Labour for the Clinton administration, Robert Reich.

Like Marcelene Cox I believe, “No one knows his true character until he has run out of gas, purchased something on the instalment plan and raised an adolescent” and as one who has already raised my fair share of adolescents while simultaneously dealing with a million pounds worth of unpaid instalment plans, I am amazed to discover not only have I been heard on both sides of the Atlantic but my previous efforts have self fuelled during a period when my personal reserves were close to empty.

Here’s hoping “true character” might eventually reap similar success in my hitherto fruitless communications with the banksters at HBOS.

But,

As ever, I shall not be holding my breath.

Help and the Aged

Economist Thomas Sowell said, “You will never understand bureaucracies until you understand that for bureaucrats, procedure is everything and outcomes are nothing” and realising procedural bureaucracy has taken its toll on me this week, I made the decision to redressed the situation with a much needed of a change of scene.

Making my eighty five year old mother my first port of call, I suggested we take a trip into our small market town and, grateful of some quality time together, she was not difficult to persuade. Beautifully presented in an outfit she would have normally kept for best, we set off at a leisurely pace along the high street. Frail with age but still game, my mother clung trustingly to my arm as we negotiated uneven pavements and headed for her favourite supplier of cappuccino and custard pies.

Mother, intent on imparting the finer details of all she had encountered since my visit a few days previously, did not notice the man ahead blocking our progress. Neither did she comment on the scooter he sat astride mid pavement. Scruffy in appearance, lopsided of face and missing an eye there was no escaping the driver’s attentions and I braced myself for an unpredictable encounter while negotiating the dangers of a dilapidated scooter that was nothing short of a health hazard.

Choosing not to step out into the road and instead risking the jagged edges of his vehicle I drew close to the man in question but with eyes fixed firmly at ground level in the interest of my mother’s ankles.  Hoping for bland indifference but braced for some level of abuse for squeezing past him rather going round, I was totally unprepared for what happened.

Ancient and broken he leaned into me and whispered as we passed, “I think you are really beautiful” and then, just loud enough for my mother to hear he said, “and I think your sister is too!”

Seeing my mother melt into gleeful revelry at the thought that someone should think we were sisters while in receipt of the first pass either of us had enjoyed in years, was not only the perfect non bureaucratic outcome for our day but most definitely a highlight of my mother’s eighty-fifth year.  What’s more the flirtatious devilment of an aged, invalided man proved a keen reminder that, more than anything else, attitude determines whether difficult undertakings have successful outcomes. This lesson was most definitely a ready remedy for me at the end of what has proved to be very taxing HBOS fighting week.

New Years Revelations

Believing, like TS Elliot,“ last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice” my New Year’s resolution has been one of mindful determination to mark 2012 with a new and audible voice of my own.  Sadly, my adversaries have neither new voices nor new words for this brand New Year and instead have chosen to sing the same old song.

Determined not to let their repetitive monotones colour my New Year spirit I have started my first child free week of 2012 by replying to yet more unsolicited and largely meaningless correspondence.

I have;

·        Explained to Egg I find selling my husband’s debt to a collection agency all but two years after advising me of their intentions not to pursue him both an unusual and unsatisfactory way of illustrating their compassion.

·        Explained to my very supportive MP that I wish to take my Warmfront complaint to the Parliamentary Ombudsman in the hope I will eventually secure the heating survey I was promised in December 2008.

·        Explained, again, to the Financial Ombudsman’s adjudicator, who has clearly taken umbrage at my fourteen page letter asking her to follow the FOS guidelines, that I wish to be informed of her reasons for seeking HBOS’s permission to escalate my complaint to a formal enquiry more than eighteen months after she first took my case.

Satisfied all wolves are once again deterred from any temptation to darken my door or my doorstep, I have been able to set aside fears of damage to my children’s sense of well being and turn my attention to the duties of house and home. The task in pole position involves venturing into each unruly but now vacant child’s bedroom while the occupants are at school in an effort to reclaim some floor space and restore some kind of order.

While I remain amazed, but no longer surprised, at the quantity of dirty washing and empty sweet wrappers that can harmoniously cohabit within a teenager’s bedroom if left unchecked, I can still be caught unawares with the discovery of an academic award received but not mentioned or, as on one occasion, an MI5 recruiting brochure abandoned on a bedside table. However, in spite of  more than thirty four years of parenting I was totally unprepared for what I read on the fly leaf of an old but otherwise blank diary I was about to throw away in the name of de-cluttering.

“Dear 2007 diary,

I have kept you because 2007 was a year of no troubles and my life was perfect.
Time flies and it is now February 24^th 2011.  I have moved house, moved schools and left the village I have always lived in. Now I have more school work, more home work and have been having a really hard time.

I have kept this diary even though it has nothing it because I wish I could turn back time.”

This simple but heartfelt statement written by my thirteen year old daughter almost a year ago saddens me immensely.  Not least because, unbeknown to me and in spite of my best efforts to keep our persecution at the hands of HBOS completely seperate from family life, my daughter has still suffered its consequences in silence and kept an old and empty diary purely because it represents the last year she remembers being wholly untroubled.

Aware that HBOS has stolen my health, my financial future and, so far, three and a half years of my own life, it did not occurred to me, until the discovery of this very unwelcome New Year’s revelation in the words of a child, HBOS has also stolen three and a half years of my daughter’s childhood and this, for me, is nothing short of heartbreaking.

Lemmings and lethargy

George Bernard Shaw once said, “The single biggest problem with communication is the assumption that it takes place” and I have to admit that the last few days have proved successful communication is most definitely the exception rather than the rule.

This week I have endeavoured to,

·        Acquire M&S vouchers I have been allocated as part of a marketing promotion only to be told I have already received them

·        Repair my car via my insurance following a “no fault accident” after two months of waiting only to be repeatedly told I have still have to pay the excess

·        Secure a bursary figure from my daughter’s prospective senior school only to be told, for reasons they were not at liberty to disclose, they are unable to provide one at present  

·        Persuade my sixteen year old son to secure me an appointment with his Maths “re-sit” teacher on parents evening to be told by him that re-sit students do not have tuition or teachers

·        Explain to the Financial Ombudsman’s adjudicator that they must have received my reply concerning my HBOS complaint because they have not only acknowledged its receipt by letter but have also signed for it on its delivery by registered post

Knowing full well that, “If you hold a cat by the tail you learn things you cannot learn any other way”, I have since discovered;  

·        M & S voucher distributors would prefer to accuse me of theft than admit they have not done their job

·        Motor insurance claim departments have absolutely no sense of urgency and must now join the ranks of my ever increasing list of letters of complaint

·        Acquiring background information as to how, why and to whom bursaries for education are awarded from a neighbouring and competing independent school, has encouraged my daughter’s prospective school to revisit their decision to with hold the original level of bursary they were prepared to make available for my daughter's education

·        Emailing my son’s sixth form tutor not only reveals a completely different interpretation of the academic commitment required to improve an AS Maths grade at re-sit from that of my son's but it has also highlighted a distinct lack of pro-activeness on his part

·        Putting the FSO’s administrative shortcomings in writing, quoting times and dates of supporting documentary evidence has had my adjudicator hopping around in snooty embarrassment while suggesting my case in referred to her superior rather than make any further fobs off's herself

Napoleon Bonaparte said, “Never ascribe malice to that which can be better described as incompetence” and as I strive daily for a conscious competence that will carry me through my battle with HBOS, combat the disinterest of the Financial Ombudsman Service and help me make the most of our reduced financial circumstances for the sake of my family, I cannot help lament the lack of mindful leadership that has left me dealing with more than my fair share of lemmings this week. While I accept that experience has always proved to be a brutal but effective teacher, I can only hope by learning from yesterday and yet continuing to live for today I will eventually achieve results that will provide hope for our future.

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.

Winning wills

While I appreciate winning is not everything I understand the will to win most definitely is.  Much to my frustration, and largely due to over-commitment on all fronts, I have recently experienced an overwhelming sense that, on occasion, having the will to win can still prove insufficient to gain the advantage in every battle.

Over the past ten days I have,

·        failed to convince my body I do not have an upper respiratory infection resulting in this unwelcome invader knocking me for six

·        failed to convince my landlord to attend to a list of repairs resulting in the prospect of another winter with extortionate heating bills and very little warmth

·        failed to convince the former Treasurer of the Friends to furnish me with much needed banking information resulting in pure guesswork when it came to the allocating of this year’s funds at our meeting

·        failed to work out an economically sound method for my teenage son to travel, via public transport, to an open day at University College London resulting in a seven hour road trip by car

·        failed to convince the Financial Ombudsman to view HBOS’s actions as both negligent and pivotal to the resulting mortgage shortfall I am now saddled with.

However, knowing success is not wholly dependant on drive and persistence while fatigue can make cowards of us all I sent for reinforcements when it came to the assembly of my team for the school quiz.

Carefully selecting friends who have been supportive and uplifting during the darkest hours of my HBOS ordeals, my unassuming band of debt fighting warriors threw aside the trappings of battle to engage in an evening’s intellectual frivolity of fish and chip fuelled entertainment.  Although brows were periodically furrowed in contemplation, we laughed and dined the evening away in untroubled camaraderie and in so doing melted my failures of the preceding days  into insignificance. The by product of this meeting of minds over a school quiz and a few beers was......

We won!

On hearing American baseball player Michael Jordan words,

“I’ve missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I’ve lost almost 300 games. Twenty six times I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and again in my life and that is why I succeed.”

I realise every road to success is littered with failures of the past. However, it has become evident from the success of our quiz team efforts that the individual’s commitment to a group effort is precisely what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work ,

And,

I am also convinced it will eventually be what makes my battle with HBOS work.

In recognition of this invaluable and ongoing solidarity I would like to take this opportunity to acknowledge my appreciation of not only my fellow quiz team members, but also every kind and caring individual who has so readily given their time and their expertise over the past three years to ensure I remain on my road to success in spite of my failures.

I extend my heart felt thanks to each and every one of you.

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.

The Pursuit of Happiness

According to government research, the recipe for human happiness has three ingredients, “meaning, mastery and autonomy” and as I take a moment to evaluate my position and make plans for the coming week, I realise how fortunate I have been to have had the perfect blend of all three attributes throughout the summer months. This period of respite has been largely due to the fact the Financial Ombudsman’s Service has been investigating my case against HBOS throughout July and August leaving me a very welcome period of thumb twiddling on the debt fighting front.  

Now that autumnal high winds have replaced gentle summer breezes and a week of the school term is already under our belts, I am aware the time has come to pick up the proverbial baton once again.  Hoping, in the words of  Rich Dad, Poor Dad author, Robert Kiyosaki, “the size of my success is measured only by the strength of my desire; the size of my dream; and the way in which I handle disappointment along the way”, I have endeavoured to,

·        Restore order to the homely chaos that goes hand in hand with having three children, and frequently several grandchildren, at home over the school holidays.

·        Kick start the Friends of the school’s schedule for the coming year by ensuring I can answer a whole plethora of questions my fellow committee members do not yet know they wish to ask.

·        Encourage a sense of urgency in my teenage son for the completion of his university application form, personal statement and campus visits.

·        Embark on all manner of lodger related cleaning and furniture moving in anticipation of the arrival of a new tenant.

·        Mount an attack, with the help of my invaluable friend Chris, on the pile of debt and Ombudsman related paperwork which has been waiting for some child free time to induce clarity of mind

And

·        Research scholarships and bursaries for September 2012 in an effort to secure my daughter’s education in an independent senior school.

Although each and every task carries a unique demand on my ever expanding need for expertise, the hurdle of my daughter’s ongoing schooling has consumed me with an over whelming sense of trepidation not least because, in the case of  bursary assistance, the all important autonomy is most definitely the province of the bursary provider.  In order to explore the chances of securing funding, not only will I have to suffer the indignity of repeatedly disclosing the gory details of my current financial position and aggravate old wounds which are still struggling to heal, but in addition to laying myself bare, I must then listen attentively to the answers I will receive.  Sadly, experience dictates, not everyone wishes they could help.

Over the past three years I have been told by people working within the independent sector,

·        Embarking on the education of my children in a fee paying school, without having secured funding for its completion may well result in them being irreversibly damaged psychologically should they have to leave and enter the state sector before their education is complete.

·        Allowing my children to mix with the those of superior affluence during their school years could cripple their self-esteem for life.

·        Procuring bursaries for the independent education of my children when my husband is unable to repay his business debts is not a lifestyle choice  that endears bursary support.

·        Accepting an independent school place with financial assistance yet without the means with which to fund extracurricular lessons and extracurricular school trips will leave my children feeling ostracised and second rate citizens throughout their educational years.

·        Keeping my children in their prep school increases the risk of the devastating effects of  bullying if they return to the state sector should I be unsuccessful in securing an ongoing bursary funded place for secondary education.

Needless to say these comments all came from schools declining bursary assistance for my daughter because they made a personal judgement about our indebtedness. Thankfully, however, there are also individuals working within the independent sector who, on hearing my sorry tale, appear to have thought, “There, but for the grace of God go I” and it is from these people I have heard the following words of kindness,

·        Bursary and scholarship places are a fundamental part of the Independent Educational Sector and not only do they facilitate the charitable status of these schools but they provide a valuable opportunity to offer education to a broad socioeconomic group.  Bursaries are designed to aid people in your circumstances and it delights us to be able to help.

·        Your daughter will greatly benefit from what we have to offer and would undoubtedly be a credit to our school.  For these reasons we look forward to having an opportunity to help.

·        We are in the fortunate position of being able to offer charitable funding to assist people suffering financial hardship and are very sorry to hear about your difficulties. We are happy to help and hope your financial position improves very soon.

Hoping, this time, when I embark on my bursary quest the size of my success will be measured only by,

·         the strength of my desire to find independent education for my daughter,

·         the size of my dream and not the size of my purse

and

·        the way in which I have handled disappointment and social prejudice along the way,

I made the decision to approach my daughter’s current prep school Head with my dilemma.

To my great relief, not only has he suggested which school I should consider for her but he has also assured me that his personal introduction, extolling the virtues of my daughter’s caring disposition, integrity and scholarly application in all her endeavours, will make her a very attractive and bursary worthy prospective student. His selfless commitment to support me in this matter has instantly restored the autonomy I lacked in the pursuit of my daughter’s educational happiness while providing me with a welcome opportunity to preserve my dignity from further extremely uncomfortable and degrading assaults.

 For this simple act of kindness and gift of human happiness I am truly grateful.

Ernest Hemingway once said, “ In order to write about life, first you must live it,” while William Wordsworth  insists one should “fill the page with the breathing’s of your heart.”  Ever hopeful that I may have succeeded in achieving both I can only conclude that for me finding a bursary for my daughter and writing my blog have proved to have much in common.  The words of newspaper columnist Walter Wesley “Red” Smith describe the process perfectly.

 “Writing is easy. You simple sit down at your type writer, open a vein and bleed.”

Homes and Gardens

 

Knowing “a house is made of walls and beams” while “a home is made with love and dreams”, I guarantee our sixteenth century grade two listed barn most definitely fell into the latter.  From the moment we saw its derelict shell towering over unobstructed views of the countryside towards the river Severn, we knew it would make the perfect family home.

Over a ten year period we were diligent in our search for reclaimed materials to maintain its character and used locally grown green oak to restore its magnificent vaulted ceiling complete with mistral’s gallery.  With an enormous log burner at its heart to ensure our family was always warm, this lovingly crafted restoration project was my husband’s pride and joy and regularly left visitors gasping at both its beauty and location.

As my children grew old enough to enjoy their surroundings, they discovered our home made a wonderful back drop to the freedom that two acres of land and an abundance of local friends afforded them.  I, in turn, was delighted to finally have a home from which we could put down roots which also allowed us to bring up and school our children in a village community.  Being a developer’s wife had meant numerous house moves throughout the years as a means of growing my husband’s business so I happily embraced a more settled outlook and threw myself wholeheartedly into country life. Quickly making many friends led to our home becoming the venue for many wonderful gatherings and  it was often filled with the camaraderie and laughter of our guests.  

In October 2008 my perspective completely changed.

Discovering we were to be faced with repossession, I soon realised everything I had once considered my own fell into two categories neither of which had anything to do with whether one's property is merely a house or a wonderful family home. A threat of this nature instantly dictates that everything must be viewed either as items against which a mortgage is secured or items against which a mortgage is not. 

As the forced sale of our home gathered momentum, repossession became HBOS’s “hangman’s noose” in the eevnt we be tempted not to co-operate.  During this period I watched my husband carefully strip each and every mortgage free fixture from our home in the hope the harvested items could be sold or reused for our families benefit.  When it came to dismantling our children's enormous wooden climbing frame (which he had designed and built in our field) he endured the sub zero temperatures of one of the coldest Januarys on record. In spite of the adverse weather conditions he carefully removed each and every part of this structure and, piece by piece, transported it to our newly rented home. 

For nearly three years the pile of wooden planks representing all that remained of our beautiful sixteenth century masterpiece was left discarded and ignored. Grass and weeds grew up amongst what appeared to be nothing of value and our children all but forgot about their much loved climbing frame's very existence. Believing its presence was only an unpleasant reminder of “old oak beams and thwarted dreams” I accepted it was unlikely ever to be resurrected again.  

However this week, to the astonishment and delight of everyone, my husband announced his intention was to build a tree house. With a spring in his step and  a renewed vigour I have not witnessed in some time; he resurrected and transformed the remnants of our old climbing frame. Three full days and nearly four hundred screws later it has become a formidable play structure in the enormous sycamore tree at the bottom of our garden and all three of our children have been in excited attendance for every step of its construction. Having now completed this project I believe my husband has not only created another masterpiece but has also laid one last ghost to rest. 

I am told there is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury and the forced sale of our home along with the simultaneous demise of our business, our livelihood and our financial future is most definitely an injury from which recovery has proved extremely difficult. Nevertheless, a tree house rising from the ashes of our lost life has been a very therapeutic start on the road to recovery for us all.

 

Off Limits

I have heard it said that limitations live only in our minds and if we use our imaginations, the possibilities become limitless. This point was illustrated to perfection today by my ten year old son when expressing, yet again, his desire to keep chickens.  On this occasion he did not attempt to seek permission to own a chicken but merely stoked a lively discussion as to how many chickens would be required to fulfil his ambition to keep our family in eggs.  Changing tack like this has smoothly shifted the debate from if to when he can have chickens and has made me wonder if taking a leaf out of his book in my dealings with Lloyds and HBOS’s might render me greater success.

Over the last week I have;

·        Received another demand from Lloyds debt collectors

·        Received no reply from Antonio Horta Osorio to my original letter of 4 August

·        Received no reply from Antonio Horta Osorio to my ”chase up” letter of 19 August

This leaves the Irish and the Elite continuing to enjoy preferential treatment for mortgage shortfall forgiveness and me continuing to suffer in purgatory purely because I live in England and do not have a high enough profile to be heard.

I have, however, received another letter this week. The Financial Ombudsman has given me two remarkably good but unexplained piece of news.

The henchwoman at Merrels Ede Solicitors has been called off as a direct result of my compliant and HBOS have, at last, agreed “not to pursue” for the time being, namely eighteen months.  This has come as a complete surprise to me because, in their last letter, my caseworker informed me they could not proceed without seeking agreement from HBOS to investigate my complaint leaving me under the impression the Financial Ombudsman's Service was about to prove completely toothless yet again.

So where does this leave me now?

It leaves me with eighteen months of limitless possibilities.  I don’t know what they are yet but it will be a relief to be able to put my case to whomever I wish without continually having to deal with the bully boy and brow beating tactics of HBOS’s Rottweiler, Merrils Ede solicitor’s. It also leaves me some unencumbered time to consider the merits of a ten year old boy keeping chickens.