Spring has sprung,

the grass has riz,
I wonder wheah de boidies is?

Well, the short English summer has begun. 'Short?' you say, 'why it's the beginning of May, which would give it several months until summer ends in September.' Ha! But the weather, she does not necessarily agree with the schedule. Last year summer was in April. This year, it appears to be in May. One hopes it will hold out, but there are no guarantees.

And so, one of our apple trees is in full blossom, with another nearly there.


The plum tree blossoms have come and gone. The parrot tulips are nearly spent.














The bluebells are in full swing,

And all the little furry creatures have come out.

As have the slightly larger ones (with long sharp claws and nasty pointy teeth - look at the bones!), bringing presents to their masters despite the very loud bells on their collars (put on them one day when the second still-live songbird was brought into the house in an afternoon):
This is the second one of these we've gotten. (I glanced at the first one, thinking it was just one of their fluffy toys.) Lucky charms?



But I shall leave you with one of the magnificent sunsets from our window (happily keeping us from looking inside the house):

A Speci-oil O-Cassia-n

I have discovered Easter biscuits (biscuits = cookies), which remarkably many English have not discovered. Let me explain:

The other day I was in the local greengrocer/butchers, at the checkout counter. By the register was a little display with small bottles of something called Oil of Cassia. They were advertised as being "for Easter biscuits". So I asked, "what is oil of Cassia?"

"It's a spice," replied the clerk, "sort of like cinnamon."
"Here, have a sniff," said the butcher.
A wonderful, if strong, smell of cinnamon mixed with cardamom (a bit fruity) emanated from the little bottle. 'Hmm,' I thought, 'this would be nice in hot chocolate or coffee.' "Can you use it in beverages?" I asked.
"No, it must be cooked!" said the clerk, "It can burn your skin!"
"I once put a drop on my tongue, and I couldn't taste anything on it for awhile." remarked the young butcher.
"Oh, perhaps I'll stick to cinnamon, then." I said, taking my purchases and heading out to continue my shopping.

Two doors down from the greengrocer/butchers is a bakery. And what to my wondering eye should appear, but a large bin with packets of Easter biscuits. Well, I had to at least try them. So, for the Queen's ransom of GBP 2.10, I became the proud owner of 6 large Easter biscuits, about 3 1/2 inches in diameter.

Sublime.

They are shortbread with a few dried currants per large cookie, and of course, oil of Cassia. The flavor(flavour) is subtle, much like in anise cookies, except that I don't like anise and I do like oil of Cassia. It is cinnamony with a fruity perfumy edge.

After consuming my 2nd package from that bakery (over a period of a couple of weeks, OK?), I was walking by another bakery in the high street, and what do I see in their window? More Easter biscuits! Obviously, I need to compare biscuits. I am on a mission to explore the cultural nuances of the English, after all. So I bought a packet of 4, as these were even larger than the other bakery's.

These were more like sugar cookies, lighter and fluffier with sugar crystals sprinkled over the top. But still there was that oil of Cassia.

My husband had never heard of these Easter biscuits. I have since come to find out from his cousin that many English don't know about them because they are a Catholic Easter treat, and most English are from the Church of England. Looking on the Web, the oil of Cassia flavouring may be a Southwestern English tradition.

I must ask this cousin if she knows which style is more authentic. I prefer the shortbread, as they are less sweet and more dense.

Then I can start on the hot cross buns ...

The Doors

Rest assured, this is not a blog tribute to an ex-band.

I didn't really pay too much attention to the nature of my MIL's house over the many years we came to visit. Houses have their quirks and their idiosyncratic spaces, and any notice I took of this particular phenomenon was more in passing than in earnest.
While we were looking at houses, though, I began to realize that this was a characteristic of English houses in general, including the one we bought (though not so much the one I wanted to buy, but I'm still not bitter).

That is, "this" is, they are, the doors.

Let me provide a little background. I grew up in a place where the only rooms with doors were bedrooms, bathrooms, and closets and other utility rooms. Yes, there were doorways, but nothing one could really close. The house I spent most of my growing up years had a vast open space of entry hall, living room, dining room, something between the 2, and kitchen area. There were some dividers, supporting and non-supporting columns, hanging cabinets, and a bar, but no doors.

Perhaps this is a by-product of the colder climes, since air conditioning just sits on the lower layer while heating goes through the roof (ceilings tend to be oppressively low here for me as well). Our kitchen here had a door between it and what we use as the dining room, and we almost never closed it, and it was incredibly ugly, so we took it off. There is a door from the (old) entryway to the living room, and then another one from the living room to the bedroom area (a miniature hallway).

Unfortunately there is a draft that whooshes in via the old entryway. Also unfortunately that is a high traffic route, being the way to the kitchen, office, and all house exits (except in case of fire). Drafts don't bother me that much, but they bother a certain other person who lives in the house, and so everyone has to shut the door until it clicks each and every time they walk through it, regardless of how soon they plan to go through it again. I am not overly fond of this practice, but am less fond of being told and asked and reminded to do this.

When a certain person is not at home, I leave the door wide open with great glee.

As I said, ours and MILs are not the only houses designed this way. Recently we went to a friend's new (very old) house and stayed the night. This house was originally 2 miner's cottages built sometime in the mid-1800s, with additions and updates over the last 150-odd years. We were sleeping on a fold-out couch in the living room, which had French doors opening into the entryway. In the morning I had to make my way to the downstairs bathroom(toilet, cloakroom, WC), which was off the utility room. I went through the French doors, through the door into the dining room, through the door to the kitchen, through the door to the utility room, through the door to the bathroom. Each and every door was shut. By the time I came back into the living room, I was humming the theme to Get Smart. Now that theme comes into my head each and every time I have to close a door that shouldn't be there in the first place.
I think I am developing a door phobia.

Halloweenies

Yes, some do celebrate Halloween here, to answer your question. No, I am not having a party this year, not just because I feel buried (ha ha), but also because I just don't know enough people in the area to invite (sad but true).
But one encounters some funny reactions to Halloween here. Take trick-or-treating. In the US it is the most innocuous thing, really. Kids get to dress up and knock on doors and expect candy and get it most of the time. Adults get to decorate their houses and dress up and see children dressed in all sorts of costumes, scare the living daylights out of them, and then delight them with free candy. I for one use Halloween as an excuse to buy big bags of "bite-size(d)" 3 Musketeers bars, Milky Ways (great from the freezer), Snickers, and the rare but wonderful Baby Ruths. Adults get to have parties where they can be something they cannot be for the rest of the year. Very occasionally one might find a few eggs drying on the side of the house, or toilet paper in the trees in the front yard, but I don't remember hearing of too many incidents of vandalism or wanton destruction. Though admittedly a few years ago one of my friends left a bowl of candy by the door while she went out to walk her dog, and when she returned not only was the candy gone, but so was the bowl! Nevertheless, it's pretty minor and more for mischief than thievery.

Maybe it's the being something other than yourself that scares the English. Maybe it's the US-import aspect of it. Or maybe the English really aren't accustomed to images of ghosts, ghouls, goblins, witches, warlocks, and weirdos. Whatever the reason, some people here react strongly against Halloween. It's true that there seem to be more folks here who will use it as an excuse for the aforesaid vandalism and wanton destruction. But it surprises me when I encounter such a reaction. For example, 2 years ago there was a mask being sold which had red liquid encapsulated inside so when you pumped a little balloon, the liquid flowed down the front and looked like blood. People were up in arms about it - it made the television news! My reaction? "Cool!"

And then I was watching some sitcom where the main character complains about trick-or-treating and denigrates it as "an American import". Then the other day I invited a friend to bring her child trick-or-treating with us tomorrow. She is not English (nor American); she discussed it with the child's father, who is English, and he categorically rejected the idea. I was taken aback. But then, these folks did not grow up with this tradition. They don't have fond memories of taking pillow cases around to hold more candy, nor waiting till late to get all the rest of the candy from the folks that don't want it lying around their house. They don't have the thrill of knowing they can go to just about any door and get free candy, and maybe get their pants scared off in the bargain. Jackpot! And then there's the survey of the candy loot when you arrive home (what you didn't eat while out and about, that is), the dismissing of the imitation Smarties and the cheap candy cigarettes (OK, that was awhile ago). As an adult, I pride myself in making the approach to the house so scary that some children walk very hesitantly up to the door (though I do feel bad for the really small children). I love hosting Halloween parties, decorating the interior so that it no longer looks like the house normally would, putting together the music, making the food (my graveyard cake was my favorite, but I also love an excuse for devilled eggs, and Knorr spinach dip in a bread bowl). And I really enjoy seeing the costumes my guests come up with - some are incredibly imaginative! It is a rare opportunity in adult life for a creative outlet. One of my friends not only wears the costume, but acts it as well. What fun! How I miss it all.

Fortunately there is trick-or-treating in MIL's neighborhood. I doubt there's any in mine. I barely decorated the house, but that's partly due to the chaos that is my house. Next year I hope to be better organized (ha ha).

Now I just need to get a hold of some bite-sized Baby Ruths...

P.S. This morning (Halloween day) I inquired at L's school about reading one of my favorite toddler Halloween books and handing out kids Halloween tattoos. The teacher said that it was district policy not to celebrate Halloween in any way. }sigh{

The Un-Cooperative Bank redux

Well, I know you are all out there on the edge of your seats waiting for the scintillating conclusion to the saga of my non-banking with the Un-Cooperative Bank. Even though I am exhausted and have my usual thousand things to do, the guilt has overtaken my better judgement and I am compelled to pen (or rather key) the rest of the story. Also I want to get it out of my head (there's hardly room for anything else).

So, as we left off, I had asked the Un-Cooperative Bank (which I will henceforth refer to as the Un-Coop) to cease and desist with opening the account and return all original documents, making the request both by email and by post (I gave up on the phone as it was costing me too much money).

2 weeks and 2 days after I asked them to cancel my application, I received a big fat packet in the mail. I thought, 'At least they've returned my documents'. Ha ha, guess what? They had opened an account for me, oh joy. Now I had a liability on my hands. Worse yet, as they didn't seem to pay attention to any communication I sent them, I had no idea how I was going to close the account!

I just ignored the whole thing for awhile, while various documents arrived in the mail for my new unwanted business account. On their Web site (as if I should trust anything else written there, but I was desperate), there was the address of an arbitrator for banking called the Financial Ombudsman. I took the time to assemble all the information concerning my dealings with the Un-Coop, organized them by date, put them into a letter, and sent it to this Financial Ombudsman, along with a couple of printouts of the 2 emails I sent to the Un-Coop. I then took my original cancellation email, forwarded it to the email address on the Un-Coop's Web site with "IS ANYBODY THERE???????????" prepended to the subject line and some extra lines at the beginning of the email about the appallingly bad service.

4 days after I sent that email to Un-Coop, I finally got a response (never got a response to the other 2 emails I sent). This response rendered a brief apology, and said I needed to fax a signed letter to a certain number to close the account. Frustrated beyond belief by the Un-Coop and waiting for the Financial Ombudsman to act, I replied via email to Un-Coop as follows:

You have offered no explanation as to the lack of
response.  Why on Earth would I bother to fax?  Email,
telephone, and written letters all went unanswered. I
wouldn't expect a fax to produce a different result.

Faxes cost me money.  Phone calls to your customer service
center cost me money.  Letters cost me money.  Why should
I pay for your mistakes?  I have written to the Financial
Ombudsman in case they can help me close my account and
get all of my documents back, because no-one at Coop ever
seems to respond.

1 week after I sent the letter to the Financial Ombudsman (henceforth the FO), I get a reply from them. Get this: they say they are currently receiving very high volumes of enquiries and will provide me with a full response as soon as they can. Am I surprised? No. They give me a contact reference number in the meantime in case I want to contact them about my case.

I wait for the FO to respond. In the meantime I get a statement from Un-Coop showing a £3 service charge (the account is supposed to be fee free for the first 2 years). I laugh.

9 days after I sent the email quoted above, I get the following response:

Hello

I can advise that this account was opened in May 2007,
however, as this is not a secure website, I cannot give
out any further account detail.

Regards
{I am far too kind to name this useless individual whose
initials are JL}

Note the personalization, the relevancy, the knowledge of Web vs. email. Such professionalism as I have never known in a banking service center(centre). (In case it's not blatantly obvious, I write with sardony.)

About 2 weeks after I received acknowledgment of my complaint by the FO, I sent an email with my case reference, asking how it was going. Guess what? Yup. No reply to this day to the email.

Somewhere in here I received another account invoice from Un-Coop for a £3 service charge. I'm beyond a response.

After awhile, I figure the FO isn't going to do anything, so I went back to trying to contact Un-Coop without spending too much time nor money. First I emailed a response to JL's magnificent example of customer service quoted above. It went like this:

Wow, a 10 day response time.  It boggles the mind to
think that Coop thinks that's OK.

A few days after that, I thought, 'What the heck' and I emailed a copy of the letter I sent to the FO to the black Un-Coop-business-banking-email hole:

Just in case anyone at Coop Bank cares, I've attached
a letter I sent to the Financial Ombudsman several
weeks ago.  I received a reply from them dated June
18th, saying that they have high volumes of enquiries
and will provide me with a full response as soon as
they can.

In the meantime I've received some fee charge on the
Coop Bank account I never wanted to open and which was
advertised as fee free.  Wow.  You have outdone
yourselves.

Ain't life grand! Still not having heard anything from the FO (having emailed them twice with no response ever), I decided to try faxing the Un-Coop. Not only did I fax a request to close the account, but I also faxed a copy of the letter to the FO.

One week later I get a letter from Un-Coop which basically says, hey, thanks for contacting us about your unhappiness, and gee, we're sorry. And quoted directly from the letter: "One of my colleagues from our Customer Relations Team will be in touch with you by telephone or letter within the next 10 working days." And blah blah blah. The date on the letter is July 24.

On the 28th of July I get a letter from the FO. To summarize, they can't help me until the business has a chance to put things right (something like 90 days, or I could be confusing it with the broadband arbitrator, but that's another blog). They had written Un-Coop, and also sent me an address to write to Un-Coop, along with a name (though it looks fictitious to me).

Somewhere around August 11th or 12th, I get a letter from Un-Coop dated August 10th. This is the first time they have contacted me since the letter saying I would be contacted within 10 days. Let's see, July 24 to August 10 is, uh, take off my shoes, and, gosh, 17 days. Perhaps they don't understand the definition of the word within. I'd rather think that than that bankers can't do math.

This letter of August 10 apologizes for the delay in replying (personally I don't accept it, thanks all the same). It mentions that my letter highlighted training issues which would be addressed (training issues? these folks have no clue). No record could be found of me cancelling my application. The account was closed on July 28 following my fax received on July 19 (uh, does anyone see a problem here? 9 days to close the account that had no money in it and no transactions ever?) But the most priceless line was "Any original documentation would have been returned to you." Well, yeah, it would have been, had there been anyone remotely competent working there. But apparently there wasn't. Read on.

The letter finishes up to say "Should you wish to discuss these or any matters, please do not hesitate to contact me on {phone number} between 8am and 4 pm, Monday to Friday." And a signature and printed name.

I received the letter on a Saturday. I called Monday morning. I got someone who was not the person on the letter. I asked for the person on the letter. "She's not in today," I was told, "I think she's on holiday." That was the last straw. I let this person have it. Clearly, no-one at Un-Coop knows what customer service is. Clearly they don't understand that you don't put a customer and member through the wringer, send them a letter saying 'call me,' and not be in the office to receive the call. I told this person who actually was on the other end to GET ME A VERY SENIOR PERSON RIGHT NOW.

I had a long conversation with some woman who actually knew about my case, claiming that the letter writer had asked her to take over while she was away (though failing to put that in the letter). We had a nice conversation, and I reminded her that my documents had not been returned and would she see to it. Oh yes, she would, and they were working on their problems and they wish they had received my letter sooner and I reminded her that I needed a venue for that, and there was none (duh).

Stupidly, or perhaps resignedly, I did not take her name. Why stupidly? Because 2 weeks later I still have not received my original documents.

Moral of this tale: Don't bank with the Cooperative Bank, if you know what's good for you. And don't bank on email!

Wallflowers redux

OK, I have a few minutes here, so out of the thousand things I could be doing (like, for example, sleeping), I thought I would follow up on the wallpapers. Drum roll, please.

1. Kitchen (now ripped off! see photo)
2. Office
3. Old entryway
4. Bedroom hallway
5. 2nd bedroom
6. Main bathroom
7. Closet panels in master bedroom
8. Dining room and utility area

Curtains are in the living room.

My vote for the ugliest is #6, the main bathroom. Fortunately, there's only a small amount of it relative to the other rooms. The rest of the bathroom walls are taken up by only slightly ugly tiles. And just in case there isn't enough wallpaper, there are remnants in the attic of almost every one except the kitchen, plus one I haven't found (yet).

Based on the comments, #6 is the winner. Special kudos to Darling24_7 who did a great job of guessing what paper went in what room.

Another vote will be coming soon!

P.S. Have I mentioned I don't like flowers (except real ones)?

Before the deluge

Our view in mid-June, before the Great Deluge began.
(Coming soon: follow-ups to the ugly wallpaper contest, The Un-Co-operative Bank, and a special bonus, Orange you glad you switched to Virgin)

Don't bank on email

I know it's been awhile since my last post on life here, but believe me it's not for lack of material. First, a little background information: I'm not a telephone person, nor is my husband. Our phone does not ring that much; often when it does and I'm near it, I jump.

This is not the case for English people, apparently. People telephone to conduct their business. It's a perfectly reasonable thing to do, I realize(realise). But over the past few years, if there is a way to conduct some piece of business online, that's what I prefer. This is because it is then documented, and in such a way as to easily send the information on to others who have an interest. So if a company I am dealing with has an online presence, I will go that route to communicate with them.

Now, in recent weeks it has come to pass that I have had to form a company. I won't go into the whys and wherefores, suffice it to say that it is so. In order for a company to receive payment, there must be a company bank account. Naturally, in the process of forming this company, I endeavored(endeavoured) to open such an account. I used another company to help me form this company because I was in a big hurry, and did not have the time (nor, truth be told, the inclination) to learn about forming companies in the UK. This company offered to help me open an account with one of the big UK banks. However, since I already had a couple of accounts at another large UK bank, and am a member of another group that has a bank, I declined, preferring to keep my dealings with a smaller number of firms.

Instead of going with my personal accounts bank, I thought I'd keep the business separate and go with the organization of which I am a member. This organization touts all sorts of ethics regarding environmental friendliness, standing up for the little guy, fair trade, and so on. All this made me want to give them my business business, in addition to some personal business. So, even though their bank is much less convenient, I figured most of my transactions will be online (or over the telephone, see paragraph 2) anyway, and it wouldn't really matter. I printed out the massive application, where they ask for your life story (including the ending, at least for the next year or so) and that of others involved in the business. I probably spent a couple of pounds sterling in ink alone just printing out the 26 or so pages. Then I spent quite a bit of time filling out all the details, checking them with the company that is helping me, etc. Along with what I wrote in, I also had to provide all sorts of ID. For me that means a photocopy of my passport, my visa, my UK driver's license(licence), a utility bill addressed to me, and similar information for others signing on the account. But the photocopies are not sufficient - I had to get them certified. Fortunately I know a judge here, and he kindly signed and certified all the documents.

Great, I thought, all I need to do is mail this packet to the bank processing center(centre) and in 2 weeks I should have an account. Ha ha!

We had to go to the States for some family business in April. Just before we left, the bank mailed a request for more information from me. I didn't receive the request till after we got back. They needed a business plan. I called them to ask them what specifically they wanted, calling a number that charges by the minute, even on our internet phone, and waiting a good 6 minutes before someone finally answered, all the while listening to the most raucous distortion of some horrible jingle music. When someone finally answered, I complained about the music and the amount of time it took for a live person to pick up the line (in the nicest possible way, I assure you) and asked if that amount of wait time was normal. I was assured there was something that had gone wrong that day and the wait times were unusually long. I then asked about the business plan, received instructions on what to send, and finished the call. I dutifully typed up the information and sent it out post haste.

Mail sent first class here usually arrives the next day, or 2 days later max. After 2 days I called again to see if they received the business plan - it was getting near the end of the month and soon I would have money coming in (yea!) and nowhere to put it. Another wait, about 4 minutes this time (remember it's a toll number, and the horrible cacophonous distorted music was still playing). No, they hadn't received the plan, but they could take it over the phone. So I gave them the plan over the phone (trust me, it's very short). I asked how long it would take to open the account - usually 48 hours after receiving the information. Great, because I really need this account opened.

I waited another 2 days, then called again. Another 4 minute wait (and, oh gosh, the noise, the noise!), then, is the account open yet? No. What's the hold-up? I can't tell, let me do some research and call you back this afternoon. OK. Afternoon comes and goes, no call. I call again the next morning, same wait, same music, have practically the identical conversation, with the identical promise to research and call me back that afternoon. No call back.

What the heck, I'll email them. I went to their Web site, read their promises of customer service, and emailed the address on the site. Urgent, please respond, here are the problems I've been having, can someone help me? Nothing in my inbox after a day. I began researching my personal bank for their business account process. I called them on their toll-free number, and someone answered on the FIRST RING. I asked about the process, which sounded simple. I then sent the other bank an ultimatum email. If the account is not open today, cease and desist (as if they were actually doing anything they could cease). Needless to say, no call, no email reply, nothing, nada, bupkus. So I sent one last email - cancel the application, return all documents (still no reply to any of this to this very day, and that was over a week ago).

I then call my personal bank (available till 8PM for telephone enquiries). Once again, immediate answer on their toll-free number. The representative took a small amount of information down, then said I would receive a call within 48 hours to schedule a live appointment in my little town with my business banker. I informed her that even though it was not their fault, I was in a desperate situation and I have a high-end account with them, and perhaps they could expedite things please?

Nearing the 48th business hour, I telephoned them - I MUST HAVE AN APPOINTMENT SOON! Very apologetic they said they would check the schedules and phone me back. I got a phone call back that day, scheduling a tentative time, because they could not get in touch with my banker at that moment. Then I got a call from another banker making sure that I was being helped and giving me his number if there was any problem (also recommending a nice pub in his village). My banker called me the next day to change the time, I met with him the next day (the 5th day after I started the process), very nice chap. Took the information right there and then, typing it into the computer. I didn't have to produce ID (they already had verified that when I got the personal accounts), I didn't have to fill anything out. I only had to sign a couple of things. He gave me an account number right then and there, although it wouldn't be open for another 2-3 days. By this morning, my account was open, local, and I could deposit the check! I could also finish some of the lingering bureaucracy associated with company formation.

Yeesh. I sent a letter to the bad bank, better known as The Cooperative Bank, which was so unhelpful that I now call them The Un-Cooperative Bank, insisting that they return all the documents I sent them, as they contain confidential information which they have no reason nor right to know (privacy issues are much bigger here). I also complained about their appalling lack of service and response, especially in lieu of their espoused philosophy. And I sent a copy of this letter to Which? magazine, the Consumer Reports of the UK. So far, still no word from them (nor Which?). It's like a black hole.

Maybe it's the same black hole to which most of my emails to UK companies and even UK individuals go. I don't know what it is, but my theory is this: Companies feel the need for a Web presence. They go out and hire someone or some firm to create a Web site for them. They go through all the consultations and design iterations and so on. Finally they get their Web site up, complete with customer service information, including an email address. They then breathe a big sigh of relief and think "There, that's done. Moving on to the next thing." and never touch the site again, and don't bother to actually connect the email address with a live person.

As for the individuals who don't respond - I guess it goes back to the telephone thing.

Incidentally, the bank that gave me the customer service I needed, and indeed always has, is Lloyds TSB. If you ever need a bank account in the UK, I suggest you go with them. But whatever you do, make sure you do it over the phone.