Looking After Elderly Relations

Looking After Elderly Relations
I had a phone call form my father’s careline on Thursday. I was in Manchester. The other key holder was in London. The alarm was showing that it was unplugged. Someone had to go and look at it. No-one could. They are now saying they will have to take it off him. But surely, he needs it more than ever if I’m away, my husband is away and my daughter is away?
There was also an item on the television today about a British born woman, who was married to an American, about to be deported. It’s madness. She is just as British as I am. She wants to stay in the UK to look after her elderly Mum. They’re saying that neighbours could look after her.
But they made the point that I made: people are strangers today. I wouldn’t want to impose care of my father on to people who hardly know us. Besides, there is no one who lives locally who would have been able to respond that day. Everyone would have been out at work.
Imposing it on to professional strangers is another matter. There must be a general need for this sort of thing these days. I did find one company who did this. I’m not too confident about them as they’ve not yet managed to contact me.

Car Insurance Claim

Almost eight months ago, I was driving carefully on rather dangerous seven lane road in the West Midlands. I wasn’t too daunted. I’d learn to drive near there and in my first months of driving I used that road frequently. I was keeping to the speed limit, and I was in the third lane – maybe the second, my memory has faded now – but anyway the inner of the two lanes which got under the city and carries on out the other side as the A38. I was doing about 48 miles an hour, as was everybody else.
Suddenly, I noticed a car coming towards me at the side.
“What the heck’s he doing?” I thought.
As often in accidents, you have two memories of it – one that you were taken completely by surprise, and one that you saw it coming, in slow motion.
The car, inevitably, hit mine on the passenger side. My car spun round. As it glided towards the wall, I tried to keep calm and remembered that you should drive into a skid, not try to pull out of it. I still don’t know how I didn’t manage to hit anybody. The car did, of course, eventually hit the wall.
In fact, I was remarkably calm until the car stopped, and then I started shaking like a leaf, dialled 999, meaning to ask for the police and asked for an ambulance and then remembered to ask for the police.
I couldn’t get out of my car.
They all came.
The paramedic checked me over – no sign of any damage except a racing heart, and a slight pain in the neck and me feeling completely dazed and bewildered. The paramedic, bless him, kept calling me “Babe” and would not leave me until my hear rate returned to normal.
The police were good – taking down the details of other cars, but they wouldn’t get involved because I apparently wasn’t hurt.
Well, we won’t mention the months of not being able to sleep well, because of the discomfort of my neck, or the driving phobia which I experienced for several months. Gone, now, thank goodness, though, my heart does always start racing when I see a car comng towards my passengar side.
And, of course, there’s the day’s income I lost because I didn’t get to the school I was visiting. If you’re self-employed, and you don’t work, you don’t get paid.
Then there were the non-conversations with the Indian call centre, with a little man insisting on a post code, when any local would know what was meant by the description the police had given me of where I was. I was left for almost two hours in one of the seediest pats of Birmingham. So much for getting out to a lone woman within an hour. But there was a CCTV on me. It didn’t stop me getting chatted up by an old tramp, though. That incident would have been funny, if it hadn’t have been so dangerous.
Goodness knows how many times I’ve described the accident to various people associated with the insurance company, both orally and in writing. We’re still paying the higher rate for the insurance premiums.
I actually don’t let it get me down. It’s just a part of 21st century life. But I saw red yesterday when I had a letter from my solicitor saying that the lorry driver involved claimed I wasn’t hit and I merely panicked and swerved. I resent that. If I’d panicked in any way, the accident would have been far worse.
I’m left with the impression that unless someone admits liability on the spot – and our insurance companies instruct us never to – these claims just don’t get settled. Fortunately, in the past, one or two people have admitted faults. Are they now unable to insure?

Water Bill

I have recently had the most curious dealings with my water company. The flat in which I live has a water meter. I’ve been there since August and my first statement came in January. They’d read the meter and I supplied them with a meter reading when I moved in.
For those four months, and including the annul standing order, my actual bill came to £48.00. Interestingly, my direct debit had been for about £12.00 per month, which seemed about right, although my total bill for the year will mean that I’m overpaying as I won’t pay another annual charge until next year.
For some strange reason, they estimated that my total bill for the year would come to £239.38. Where did they get that from? Maybe that’s what a flat this size normally does. But I’m not here at weekends, and sometimes not other times as my job takes me all over the place. Clearly, from four months’ usage, you can see that I do not use that amount of water. They suggested a monthly payment of £19.00.
I protested. They agreed to bring it down to its former level. They didn’t hesitate. I get the impression they knew they were trying to pull a fast one.
All fine and dandy. Except that on the new statement they tell me that my payments will not cover my charges. Pardon?
£48 / 4 = £12.00. I’m actually paying £12.61. What I should be paying is £48 -16= 32/4=£8.00 per month. I think at the end of the year they should be giving me money back. Should I demand the interest?
Nice try!

21st Century Sanity Bouquet

I’m awarding this time to two young men I know how work in the property business. One is an estate agent, who, without any compromise to what he owes to his employer, sources below value property for me. The other finds mortgages. He may not be one of these people who has the whole market at his fingertips, but he does know the market well and he does act promptly. He keeps in communication by email and if he phones, he does leave content on the phone, or is there when I phone back.
I’m building them into my team.

Cyber Bills

It really does get very frightening. “Watchdog” this week did a feature on how telephone companies are switching people to new providers without their knowledge or permission. “GMTV” today did a feature on how people are getting rogue bills with huge amounts on which they can’t possibly owe and how the bailiffs are then being sent in.
What makes all of this even scarier is that you then have to spend time and trouble getting through to these people. Unless you are assertive, you get a machine followed by a powerless human being. You do have to use your wits to speak to someone in authority.
And the scariest thing of all is not having the time to do it.
Perhaps we shouldn’t have. Aren’t there many things in life much more important that all of this?