The Island Atelier

When a mile is not a mile

Have known staff in local branch of Santander for six plus years. Internet banking scuppered by lack of rural mobile signal. Received letter commanding physical presence in bank.

'Can I see 3 forms of photo ID?’ asks the manager who knows me oh-so-well.

‘Do you not recognise me?’ I replied with surprise [and suppression of fury].

‘Oh yes, of course,’ she says, quite nicely. Then takes 20 minutes to locate the ‘Customer Known To Branch Staff’ link.


Elicited smile, almost laugh, from Italian class: ‘I fired…’ but shot with gun instead of sacked from position.


Feeding O (17, into weight lifting) combined with capital cost of petrol mean Tescos clubcard points amount to tidy bonus.  Virgin Atlantic are giving 625 air miles for a mere £2.50 of tescos vouchers. Manna from heaven. New York, New York … Sydney … the world. The world has a perimeter of 25,000 miles (at equator) but Virgin Atlantic calculate that London to New York return is 29,500 miles. It is actually 7,000 miles by air. To this add taxes and surcharges of £294.93 – to be paid in real money. London to Sydney is 100,000 Virgin miles (£384.61 tescos vouchers). 21,100 miles by air. Surcharges £502.23 in dosh. The internet can fly me from London to Sydney and back for £739. A Virgin mile is long short of a mile.


K went to [yet another] party. Post party report:

“Haha yes party was absolutely mad. There was a fight at 4am. He [presume host] lives in a mansion. There were about 40 people involved all rolling around at the bottom of the stairs. Then it rolled out of the door and the police came.”


Mr Online Casino wants to sell his field. Now 3 acres of organic stinging nettles. For £40K. No one wants to buy. Mr OC is wondering why. No one else is.


Mr R wants his dog placed in ‘a nice family home’ for two weeks over Easter. Phoned Mrs R to establish requirements on carers. Mrs R says dog belongs to husband. She and son terrified of dog which has bitten both of them and the postman. ‘What do you think it needs?’ I asked. ‘A bullet through the head,’ she replied. Added: ‘Good Luck’. Luck will not be on the side of Mr R. Or dog. 


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