In Bed With The Banksters - Monday 18/07/11

Decided, after a three week wait, to visit my shy police receptionist friend and see what has happened to the letter I submitted.
Took a video of what happened. In conclusion, they appear to condone the harassment of debtors by the banks. Again, the Sergeant made assumptions and false judgments but I accepted them as opinions...
According to Sergeant Ben D'Arcy 535, I am not within my rights to demand the name of an employee of HM Police Force, nor can I expect a written acknowledgement/reply should I file a crime report not deemed worthy of attention. Without explanation nor justification...

M Jones

Statutory Demands - Thursday 30/06/11

Another trip into town. Emma had an appointment with the mid-wife, and I had a Statutory Demand to serve and a certain Police Receptionist to bring a peg down or two.

To get straight to the juicy part, I strode up to reception and, as no-one else was present, to some deep breaths to calm and focus myself. I was in the dragons lair. Receptionists are no problem, ego-charged policemen can be tricky.
I rang the bell.
She emerged. And immediately became defensive blurting out that the Chief Inspector himself had written back and deemed it a civil, not criminal matter. What?! How the hell did she know the contents of his reply?
I calmly told her I was not concerned about the letter. She again blurted she was just a receptionist, to which I emphatically agreed and I pointed out that, in my view, she was acting outside and above her job role and qualifications.
She jumped for a complaint form and threw it in the box underneath the screen. I thanked her and asked for her name and lapel number. She flat out refused to give them to me. So I asked "Who do I refer to in the complaint then?"
"The receptionist" she replied "I will own up that it was me". I declined her offer on the grounds I would be required to trust her and I was certain that she was not the only receptionist. She faltered. I pointed out that she appeared to be dressed in a uniform not unlike that of a police officer. She exploded. I didn't even have to cite The Police Act 1996, section 90, Paragraphs 1-4

"(1)Any person who with intent to deceive impersonates a member of a police force or special constable, or makes any statement or does any act calculated falsely to suggest that he is such a member or constable, shall be guilty of an offence and liable on summary conviction to imprisonment for a term not exceeding six months or to a fine not exceeding level 5 on the standard scale, or to both.

(2)Any person who, not being a constable, wears any article of police uniform in circumstances where it gives him an appearance so nearly resembling that of a member of a police force as to be calculated to deceive shall be guilty of an offence and liable on summary conviction to a fine not exceeding level 3 on the standard scale.

(3)Any person who, not being a member of a police force or special constable, has in his possession any article of police uniform shall, unless he proves that he obtained possession of that article lawfully and has possession of it for a lawful purpose, be guilty of an offence and liable on summary conviction to a fine not exceeding level 1 on the standard scale.

(4)In this section—

(a)“article of police uniform” means any article of uniform or any distinctive badge or mark or document of identification usually issued to members of police forces or special constables, or anything having the appearance of such an article, badge, mark or document..."

She threatened that if I did not leave immediately of my own accord, I would be escorted out.

Thankfully a real police woman (I think), PC Emma Beard #1695, appeared and asked what the issue was.

The receptionist unleashed a barrage of accusations, including that of harassment which I thought ironic. I stood calmly and watched. When her tirade had ended, I looked the policewoman in the eye and said "I dispute that". I matter of factly told the policewoman how I had requested the receptionists name in order to file a complaint and she had refused. I asked for the police womans details and visibly noted them in my ready prepared notebook. Very shortly she gestured for me to walk with her. As we descended the stairs she quietly told me the receptionist was known to "have issues" and to behave like this. Around the time the policewoman said "high horse" the receptionist shouted down, in a rather shaky voice, from the top of the stairs where she had been eavesdropping that the letter had been dealt with and deemed not to be a police matter. I shouted back my thanks and winced at the police woman. Grinning broadly, I expressed my hope she didn't get in trouble for what she'd said. She assured me it'd be ok. She then agreed and made it clear that I had every right not to speak to a receptionist and instead request to speak to a police person who, unlike the receptionist, had training in legal matters.

I shook the police lady's hand and expressed my sincerest gratitude. God bless her and that receptionist. They teamed up to give me a wonderful and rich experience.

M Jones

Who Can Judge? - Wednesday 29/06/11

I arose around 11:00. Not long after, the days challenge and activity arrived with the post. Emma's debt collectors simply chose not to get the message and appear to be playing dumb (all credit to them). So to help them to understand. I researched the legislation they are governed by and found at least four they were in breach of

(Section 1 of the Protection from Harassment Act 1997, Section 40 of the Administration of Justice Act 1970, Section 4a of the Public Order Act 1986, Section 1 & 2 of the Malicious Communications Act 1988) taking this from being solely civil, into civil AND criminal legislation.

I told Emma to make copies of all the postal receipts (all letters were sent via Royal Mail Recorded) and correspondence and composed a letter to the Police. The result was an accusation supported by material evidence. A crown prosecutor couldn't ask for more.

Unfortunately, at the police station, the large grey (not just her hair) receptionist appeared to think herself judge, jury and executioner! She glanced through the paperwork and told me it was a civil matter and tried to pass it back to me. Unfortunately for her, I am not that easily deceived. I told her that despite her refusal to issue a receipt, I would entrust her to pass it on to the relevant person/department. I would inevitably receive a reply and thereby an acknowledgement would serve as well as a receipt. She refused to issue a receipt on the grounds she "didn't have one".

I strode out feeling victorious.

As I sat on a bench outside relating the details I have omitted here to Emma about my encounter, a young chap caught my eye and sat down beside me obviously wishing to engage in conversation.

He was most taken by my appearance, the steel toe cap boots and my agricultural looking trousers. He asked me to chaperon him through town to where he needed to go as he was "unwell". He appeared to be well physically so I asked what ailed him. He said it was down to mental health issues. I liked him instantly.

As we walked, he told me how his passion was hand made tools after I told him of my scything attempts. He described a knife he had had commissioned, but words weren't enough. He interrupted two women having coffee so he could draw his gurkha style blade. Not a care for etiquette or the ladies potential alarm regarding such a topic of discussion. I liked him even more.

As we left the coffee drinkers he shuddered and expressed his unease.

I asked what was the source of his discomfort. Was it the place? or the people? Both he replied. I said he could be forgiven as his feelings could be felt and understood by any man.

As I left him at his destination we shook hands. He apologised for not being sane. I replied in sincerity when I said "you appear to be one of the most sane people I've met in a long while". He smiled. The start of his 'insanity' had been the failing of a relationship. His parting words were "some seek help, others don't".

God bless you Will. I'll remember our encounter for a long time.

I then spent over £1000. £750 on a brand new Land Rover and £299.98 on a Netbook, case and 500gb hard drive. I didn't feel a thing. I knew I hadn't just splurged to gratify a conditioned false feeling or urge. These were items I believe we needed. A Netbook for its greater efficiency and practicality. The hard drive to retain all our photos and ensure the Netbook stays relatively clear and backed up. A brand new Land Rover. Well we currently seem to have a need for transportation. Infrequent compared to most. A rugged car that should last 50 years or so. Plus, it's a crucial part of my ambitious illustratory stunt...

M Jones

A Stress Free Ride - Friday 27/05/11

Wednesday morning Emma had what the midwife told her was a 'show'. I can't bear to go into details. Girls are gross.
Basically it could be a sign of the beginning of the end of her pregnancy. So to play it safe we decided it made little difference to leave Lammas a couple of days early and go back to Stroud.
The aim was to leave around 13:00 on Thursday after Emma had had a small "Blessing Way" held for her up at Jasmine's. Whilst she was blessing, I was messing. A large tidy up was in order and I took a trailer load of rubbish to the tip.
Just before I left, Nigel popped round to wish us well and I told him about my schizophrenic indicator. He advised a blitz of WD40 everywhere. That fixed it! Damp in the stalk I reckon.
Anyways, we didn't leave until gone 15:00, but not a problem as we had no time constraints. Just as bloody well too.
Outside Cardiff our truck threw a wobbly. Understandably too I suppose. Neglected for months and then thrown along at motorway speeds. I wouldn't be happy either.
The first sign was a drop in oil pressure and as I pulled in at the services I noticed my left foot was unusually warm. Not good.
An oil check said it was full but I remembered the mystery of the disappearing oil from Christmas so chucked in 5 litres of very expensive (£39.99!) dino blood. I remarked to Emma that I'd never heard of anyone damaging an engine by having too much oil in it. I have now. I have damaged an engine by putting to much oil in it!
Pulled back onto the motorway and she got very upset. The engine accelerated on its own and after dipping the clutch it went wild. Smoke was billowing out of the back as the hazards went on and I pulled onto the hard shoulder.
"Abandon ship!" says I. Fran struggled with her seat belt but Em was there in a flash. Despite removing the keys from the ignition the engine was igniting itself and racing. When I lost sight of Emma and Frances I was puzzled and realised they had gone down wind. I bellowed for them to come to me and guided them to a safe distance away and high up the wooded bank.
Before I had a chance to whip out my phone, two police bikes rocked up hotly pursued by two fire engines. The exhaust was still churning out thick smoke but this died off as the firemen approached. So they buggered off.
The policeman was pretty amicable but when he asked if I had insurance as it wasn't 'showing up' I chose my words carefully. I explained we insured it daily and he left it at that. I was not in the mood for revenue collection and he must have sensed it. So he too buggered off.
Although I'd rung the AA, an RAC low-loader pulled up and offered to take us to a safe location. I'm not ashamed to say my response was "How much?". God bless him he did it for free. Almost. We ended up with a years super deluxe cover and a £75 surcharge for the onward tow. Don't get me wrong I was bloody grateful! £75 was actually a small price to pay and by 21:00 we were glad to arrive at our destination.
T'would appear I have another 4x4 in need of a new head gasket. So much for fearing boredom!
I would love to do it myself. It can be a project and an educational experience but if possible I'd like to find a teacher. The parts should come in under £100 by the looks of things but after having a look this morning it appears daunting to say the least.
I have posted an SOS on the Freeconomy forum and will be interested to see what response it gets.
I would rather not have to get a job to pay someone else to do it, as it that wouldn't be very educational...
I am both surprised and conscious at how at peace I find myself. Even staring at our vehicle as it looked about to burst into flames, I was at peace. I trusted the gods implicitly at that and indeed this moment. There are simply so many possible positive outcomes, and I assure you that is not me deluding myself with sickly glass half full stuff...
The family is now covered in the event of a breakdown for a year.
We could sell a car we rarely use and put the money towards bikes. I could try and fix the car and, success or failure, learn something.
These are just a couple of things that jump out and I know there are certainly some others that will emerge and transpire.
One thing is for certain, this life is not boring.

Car Being Dropped Off At The Services.

Did Not Forget To Notice The Beauty Exhibited Around Us

M Jones