Saturday, April 21, 2012


Yesterday was the 21st day of an Orwellian nightmare world I have been living with what is known as ‘Barclaycard’, peopled by characters unable to answer the simple question – ‘Where has my money gone?’  Hours have been spent on the phone (0845, of course) listening to inane music as I am transferred from department to department and all to no avail.

From India to Glasgow I have become caught in a loop determined by what the computer screen says.  And, when at last I find someone who responds outside the loop their promises of help (“A letter will be sent”/”We will call you before …”), such assurances have come to nothing, Promises, promises, promises, all cruelly broken, like so many buds which are a mirage of hope.

Who will save me from this nightmare?  It feels as if I have arrived at the ninth circle of the Inferno, encased not in ice but in mud, from which there seems no escape.  

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