My ref: £262.05 you’re going to take from my account without my permission.
Section Manager
Home Insurance
l
Dear – your name escapes me.
I’ve looked all over these documents and in the book but there’s not a name anywhere. Uh uh – maybe you’re a computer.
Please tell me you’re not a computer. I hate talking to computers. They don’t listen. I suppose it’s even worse writing to computers. If you are a computer just leave this letter on your keyboard and someone might see it and deal with it. Or maybe not, as the case may be.
I’ve just had a dreadful thought. If you’re a computer you might be called Dell. Now a computer’s bad. Dell-boy’s worse. But a computer called Dell … I’ve no chance.
Anyway – what I’m trying to say is … you’ve given me a home insurance policy for the next 12 months – and your letter says I agreed to an automatic renewal – for this year – next year – and ever and a day. Rubbish! I’ve agreed to no such thing. I haven’t agreed for you to insure me this year or next year. So cancel this policy. Pronto. And cancel next year’s policy before you think about it.
You sent me a letter about a fortnight ago, saying my insurance was due. But I ignored it because it was too dear. I get lots of letters telling me what I need, but I ignore them. But they don’t send me things, like specs and hearing aids and starving children and things. They ignore me back. And that’s what I want you to do. Ignore me.
I’ve taken out next years cover with E-sure. They are £120 cheaper than you. That’s a lot of money when you’re not flush. And I’m not flush. And whisky’s expensive. But if you take 262 quid off me I’ll be £140 down on the deal. So don’t do it.
But before you start ignoring me I want you to write to me again. And I want you to put in writing that you have not taken £262 out of my account. And also put in writing that you will never take money out of my account without my express permission. And assure me that you won’t do anything that I haven’t asked you to do.
Don’t phone – write. I get lots of phone calls too. They’re mostly trying to sell me stuff. I don’t know what they’re trying to sell me ‘cos it’s all in Pidgin. But I don’t buy it anyway. But they never send things I didn’t ask for. You seem to be the only one who does that. I mean – giving me something before I say I want it. It’s not bad if it’s a free gift. But £262 going in the wrong direction …
Anyway, when you write to say that you won’t take £262 without my express permission – get someone to sign it. There must be someone in there with a name. They’ll do. But not Dell. I don’t want to sound name-ist but I don’t want Dell to sign it. Know what I mean?
Lubley jubley
Friday, 18 September 2009
Danny
Professional Agencies Team
Dear Sir,
Reference our recent telephone conversation.
The above policy was cancelled/discontinued by my new insurer RIAS in July. And they asked you not to take any further payments by direct debit.
As instructed by RIAS I took no action personally. No direct debit was paid to you in August, nor did you ask for one, so I presumed that everything had gone according to plan.
Then, on the 12th September, a direct debit of £53.80 went out to your company.
As requested by you, I have enclosed proof that I was insured from 11/08/97 by RIAS.
In view of this will you please take steps to reimburse the sum of £53.80.
Thanks for your assistance
Yours faithfully
Your ref Monthly Premium ... As Stated.
Previous ref ... telephone conversation with Danny
Previous, previous ref ... telephone conversation with Christine
Previous, previous, previous ref ... My letter to you with a copy of my new insurance policy with RIAS/Mutual Benefits club.
Previous, previous, previous, previous ref...Notice given to you by RIAS/MBC
Previous, previous, previous, previous, previous Policy (Number As Stated)
Dear Whoever,
In July I changed my insurance from the Royal to RIAS/MBC. The insurance commenced on the 11th August.
I filled in a form for RIAS/MBC. And they undertook all the work involved in changing my insurer and informing you to cease taking money out of my account via the direct debit.
In August you did not take anything out of my account. That was correct – because I wasn't insured with youl. So I was happy. And my wife was happy. And my children were happy. Because we knew that everyone in the insurance world understood English – and could do their job.
Then in September, you took £53.80 out of my account. That was twice as much as you used to take in your previous life. Now, that wasn't good. It wasn't good because I wasn't insured with you or company. So I was unhappy. And my wife was unhappy. And, because my wife and I were unhappy – our children were unhappy. None of us said that the £53.80 had been stolen off us. But we thought that it wasn't good.
So I made phone calls – many phone calls. I travelled the country in phone calls. But no one in the insurance world could understand what I was talking about.
I didn't get angry. But I was pissed off. And my wife was pissed off. And because my wife and I were pissed off – our children were also pissed off.
Then I tracked down Danny. He's on the 'A' team. And he's in Oldham.
Danny said that if I could prove that I was insured with RIAS/MBC I would get my £53.80 back. Which sounds damn good really. But then again, it’s only fair. Because it is my £53.80. Although my wife reckons to have a claim on some of it. And, of course, there are the children – with Christmas and all that...
So I sent the 'A' team a copy of my RIAS/MBC schedule.
But the 'A' team never sent me my £53.80. I don't know why. Danny said they would.
Not only didn't they send the £53.80. But they didn't send me any nasty letters in which they refused to return my £53.80. They didn't even tell me to get stuffed – or anything.
In other words – they ignored me. And they ignored my wife. And they ignored my children.
But in October neither you nor your company took any money out of my bank. And that was correct – because I'm not insured with the you or your company. I, and my wife and children, were relieved that you didn't take anything out. But we were also disappointed that they didn't put the £53.80 back in.
Then, on Saturday, I got a letter from Oldham. It wasn't from Danny and it wasn't from the 'A' team. But it was from Oldham. And it was from your company.
This letter was from 'G K – for the company.' And 'G K – for the company,' says that on the 11th of November, she, or he, as the case may be – is going to take out another £53.80 from my account. And then on the 11th of every month for the rest of my life she, or he, as the case may be, is going to take out £26.90. And I don't think that's right – because I'm not insured with you. And I don't know any GK. And my wife doesn't know any G K. And my children don't know any GK – whoever she, or he, may be.
I'm not saying it would be stealing if 'the company' starts taking money out of my account – for something that I haven't got. But I don't think that it would be fair. And my wife doesn't think it would be fair. And my children don't think it would be fair.
I'm not very highly qualified. And my wife and children are not very highly qualified. But we know what's fair. And we know what isn't fair. And we don't think this is fair.
So if 'the company' tries to take any money out of my account on the 11th of any month, I'm going ask the Insurance Ombudsman if he thinks it's fair. And if the 'A' team don't give me back my £53.80, I'm going to ask the Ombudsman if he thinks that's fair ...
Yours faithfully
‘For the family’
Insurance Companyl
Your Ref:- As Seen
Policy no:- As Seen
Claim Ref No. 4300 355 7827
Crime No. DA 971
Dear Whoever
Ref. your letter dated 7/11 – in which you invite me to renew the insurance on a burnt-out hulk for the bargain price of £185.62...
Please refer to the lesson below – taken from a copy of Insurance for Beginners, price £185.62, including post and packaging.
Insurance for Beginners.
Lesson 1
Step 1... Punter buys car.
Step 2... Punter must insure car.
Step 3... Insurance company squeezes as much as possible out of punter.
Step 4... Insurance company acts very efficient and reminds punter to send off his money every year.
Step 5... Insurance company continues to squeeze the punter every year.
Step 6... Punter gets his car nicked and burnt-out.
Step 7... Punter reports the loss to the Insurance company.
Step 8... Insurance company acts dumb – and does nothing.
Step 9... Punter tells the Insurance Company that the police are complaining about the burnt out hulk. and the Insurance Company will be liable to a charge if the police go to investigate.
Step10... Insurance remove their finger and remove the hulk. Otherwise it might cost them money
Step11... Punter waits patiently.
Step12... Insurer sends the punter an urgent reminder to re-insure the burnt-out hulk.
Step13... Go back to 3 above.
Exam Question... Does the Insurance Company think that the punter is a dickhead?
Glossary... punter = me.
Insurance company = you.
Having studied the above lesson, I have decided not re-insure the burnt-out hulk. But I am looking forward to an offer from you.
Thanks
2008
Managing Director
Dear Sir
This is a complaint. Yes - I know that it should have been sent to the complaints department. But I e-mailed them last Saturday and they still haven’t replied.
My wife wanted a weekend in London and, for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to travel by train. So I agreed - like you do. I usually go by bus, for obvious reasons but...
So we looked at the timetable on your internet site. And, from that, we decided to leave Cardiff on the 1125 on Saturday the 26th January, with 0 changes, and return on Monday the 28th.
Being a bold boy I decided to book the ticket via telesales. I like human contact. And it would save a trip into town. So it seemed like a good idea. Uh!
Anyway, I make the phone call and, ‘Arriva Trains,’ says your man.
‘Good morning. I want two returns from Cardiff to London,’ I tell him.
‘When do you want to travel?’ he wonders.
‘We want to travel out on the 1125 on Saturday the 26th and return from Paddington on the 1645 on Monday the 28th,’ I tell him, then, ‘which are the cheapest tickets,’ I ask. I’m paranoid because I’ve heard rumours about the railways being a rip-off.
‘Have you got a railcard?’ he wonders.
‘No,’ I tell him. ‘But do you still do that Apex thing?’ My wife prompted me on that one.
‘Two returns; Cardiff to London; no railcard,’ he mumbles, ignoring the Apex question.
‘Yes,’ I agree. I can tell by his voice that there’s no point in pushing complex questions.
‘Cardiff to London on Saturday the 26th. Change at Bath,’ he mumbles again.
‘No. Direct,’ I tell him.
‘Change at Bath,’ he insists.
‘No. I want the direct route,’ I insist back, studying the timetable.
‘There are no direct trains from Cardiff to London on a Saturday,’ he announces. ‘change at Bath.’
‘Two capital cities and no direct trains. Forget it!’ I gasp in horror. He’s too thick to argue with.
‘Right. I’ll nip into town and book bus tickets,’ I tell my wife.
To cut a long story short, my wife insisted that we have one last try – at the ticket office.
There, in the station, I got excellent service, common sense and a direct train to London.
So this is a complaint about your man on telesales. And, at the same time, it also becomes a complaint about a complaints department that ignores complaints.
I had to make a trip into town to get a ticket. I wouldn’t trust your e-mail set-up.
My old granny used to say, ‘if you don’t run a circus don’t employ clowns.’
I guess she had life sussed.
Yours wearily
To the Manager
Sunday lunch in your hotel
Booked for 1230
The worst service I've ever seen in
any hotel in any place in the world!
Dear Sirs
Bearing in mind that I am not interested in staffing problems, and that at no time during this whole pantomime was the restaurant more than a quarter full.
Saturday – my wife and I invite our daughter and her husband to have Sunday lunch with us at your hotel. They bring baby Charlie, age one-and-a-bit, along with them.
We're old-hands at eating-out. We do it a lot. We've never complained before. But this one's ridiculous.
We enter the restaurant promptly at 1230 – as arranged. We are shown to a table for four and given a high chair for the toddler. All is going fine. Charlie is in the chair and we're getting seated. But now a waiter approaches and says we can't use this table. He doesn't say why. But he leads us to another table at the far end of the room.
The table we've abandoned doesn't have 'RESERVED' on it. And, apart from one other couple, we're the only people in the room. And the abandoned table is still vacant when we leave. But we don't think about this at the time.
With hindsight, and in view of the events that follow, I say that once we were allocated a table we should have stuck with it. We were there first. No one claimed it while we were in the room. People who came later should have been allocated the other table or have had this one reset for them. 'Keep it simple.' That's my motto.
After the disruption, Charlie refuses to go back in the high-chair which makes things a bit uncomfortable for his parents. But hey-ho. That's life.
When we ask if we can order, the waiter says that someone will be along shortly to take our order. Then he comes back and says that they won't be taking orders because it's a buffet-lunch and we can help ourselves.
That's fine. We go to buffets and carveries all the time. But maybe we are a little surprised that all the staff weren't informed about the buffet before we arrived.
So now we come to the complaints.
The buffet is laid-out in a separate room. As I enter the room, the spread is facing me. I see Containers of hot meat to the right, all labelled. And there's cold food to the left. So far so good.
There's no member of staff in here to point anything out. So I help myself to a piece of lamb, find the roast potatoes, and wonder what I do for veg. But all I can see is the cold spread.
I'm a bit confused. In the end I bite the bullet and start putting a selection of cold stuff on my plate – hoping that it won't clash with the meat. Maybe the Copthorne knows something about food-combinations that my wife hasn't told me.
Now I start looking for some gravy to put on the meat. But there is none! The others are looking too. But they can't find it either. In desperation they baste their meat with fat from the containers.
But I'm a gravy-person so I keep looking. It's now that I stumble on the hot vegetables. They were in a bowl on a table behind me all the time. Not obvious, because when you come through that door your eyes are drawn to the meat and the cold-buffet. 'Never look back.' That's my motto.
It's now that I spot the soup. It's at the far end of this table that was behind me. 'Damn!' I'm a soup person. But now I've got this back-to-front main-course on my hands. In many hotels, soup is treated like a starter. But not here. It's the last thing you find while you're hunting for the none-existent gravy. The sweets are by the door as you come in. We're in a topsy-turvy world.
I go back to my table and eat my meal. I hear other guests complaining that they weren't told it was a buffet. I see a mother with a baby walking to and fro looking for something. Maybe she's a gravy-person too.
More confusion. We all have dirty plates. But we're still hungry and need to go back and get some of that cold stuff which didn't blend with the red-meat. There's no one to ask. And there's no room on the table for any more plates. So we feel obliged to eat the cold buffet off the dirty plates – camping-style.
I'm over that hurdle now. So I go up for my sweet. But there are no pudding-plates. Other people are looking too. In the end I settle for a clean dinner-plate. It could be worse. I could be in Iraq. 'Ah – it is worse.' There is no splice or spoon to get the sweet to the plate. 'Sod it!' I pick it up with my bare hand, drop it on the plate and lick my fingers. Improvisation!
Now – feast over – we sit with our cups and saucers in front of us and wait for coffee ... and wait ... and wait ... and wait ...?
This is the best bit!
A couple come in and sit at the table next to us. They're just a run-of-the-mill, normal couple. No wheelchairs, crutches or trikes. They're as mobile as us. But, as they sit down, a fawning waitress appears beside their table – like a genie out of a bottle. A moment later, she's back with two plates loaded with meat. Then she says, in a voice loud enough for us to hear, 'I know you like it hot. Would you like me to take it and warm it up for you?'
I don't believe this.
Now she's back with a bowl of hot vegetables and a gravy boat. They've got table-service, a proper dinner – and bloody gravy!
I pinch myself. Is it all a dream? I look round and find myself playing spot-the-camera. Are we on TV?
But look at the time. We can't wait any longer. We'll have to drag ourselves away from all this joy.
At the cash desk, the lady takes me for £76. My daughter asks if the non existent coffee was included in the price. It's a basic question. But the lady says she doesn't know.
My son-in-law asks the same question at reception and gets the same answer. Reception asks the acting-manager. The acting-manager comes to the restaurant and has a word with the lady who doesn't know – then offers us coffee.
He's very nice. But it's too late. Baby Charlie's still pissed off about the high-chair. And his parents are anxious to get him back into that sane world outside the hotel. We turn the coffee down.
Yours in bewilderment
Quality Control
Dear Sir/Madam
The attached sharp-piece of Highland Pine Forest was in one of your tins of tomato & brown lentil soup.
It ended up in my mouth and I bit it in two. I know that the label warns us that the soup is a source of fibre – but this is over the top.
I won't go into the potential dangers for children etc. But I would welcome your comments.
The soup was purchased at Tesco's. And the identification on the lid is L617ZP 2129. And what looks like 786.
Your faithfully
(They gave me several tins of free soup for this one}.
11 April 1996
The Ramblers Association
Gresford
Dear Sir/Madam
This is about a little right of way problem I had this morning.
References are for Ordnance Survey Map, Landranger 171, Cardiff, Newport.
I set out to follow the footpath going from grid ref. ST 109 750 to ST 105 755. This goes over the Traherne estate past Coedarhydyglyn House. But when I looked for it I found that the footpath was not marked and all traces of it had been obliterated by hedges and barbed wire.
While I was trying to follow it’s course I was challenged by a gentleman from the estate who was rather supercilious and asked what I was doing "walking over - private land?!"
I said, “I’m trying to follow the footpath, but it’s been obliterated.”
He then said, “if you had a map, you would see that are - on private land!”
I said, “I have a map and it says there’s a right of way.”
He then said, “there is no footpath. And if you could read your map you would see that you are on - private land!”
I said, “I can read my map and it says there’s a right of way.“
He demanded to see my map, which I showed him. Then he banged his finger, triumphantly, just below Coedarhydyglyn House and said "this is where you are - on private land!"
To which I replied "correct... on a right of way." And when he looked he found that his finger was right on the path.
He then backed down and acknowledged that there was a footpath and reluctantly muttered that I was, “welcome to follow it.”
But that was impossible because the way was impassable.
He then told me that he had trouble with people burning out cars and he had to look after his animals. So that's why there were fences. He then assured me that he didn't want to keep people out, and acknowledged my right to be there.
Which is fair enough.
But the point is, if the land owner doesn't know the path exists, and this one obviously didn't, he could expose the likes of me to a lot of danger. He could have bulls or mad dogs roaming the right of way.
In the great scheme of things, I suppose that this incident is no big deal really, but I just feel that you should be aware it.
Professional Agencies Team
Dear Sir,
Reference our recent telephone conversation.
The above policy was cancelled/discontinued by my new insurer RIAS in July. And they asked you not to take any further payments by direct debit.
As instructed by RIAS I took no action personally. No direct debit was paid to you in August, nor did you ask for one, so I presumed that everything had gone according to plan.
Then, on the 12th September, a direct debit of £53.80 went out to your company.
As requested by you, I have enclosed proof that I was insured from 11/08/97 by RIAS.
In view of this will you please take steps to reimburse the sum of £53.80.
Thanks for your assistance
Yours faithfully
Your ref Monthly Premium ... As Stated.
Previous ref ... telephone conversation with Danny
Previous, previous ref ... telephone conversation with Christine
Previous, previous, previous ref ... My letter to you with a copy of my new insurance policy with RIAS/Mutual Benefits club.
Previous, previous, previous, previous ref...Notice given to you by RIAS/MBC
Previous, previous, previous, previous, previous Policy (Number As Stated)
Dear Whoever,
In July I changed my insurance from the Royal to RIAS/MBC. The insurance commenced on the 11th August.
I filled in a form for RIAS/MBC. And they undertook all the work involved in changing my insurer and informing you to cease taking money out of my account via the direct debit.
In August you did not take anything out of my account. That was correct – because I wasn't insured with youl. So I was happy. And my wife was happy. And my children were happy. Because we knew that everyone in the insurance world understood English – and could do their job.
Then in September, you took £53.80 out of my account. That was twice as much as you used to take in your previous life. Now, that wasn't good. It wasn't good because I wasn't insured with you or company. So I was unhappy. And my wife was unhappy. And, because my wife and I were unhappy – our children were unhappy. None of us said that the £53.80 had been stolen off us. But we thought that it wasn't good.
So I made phone calls – many phone calls. I travelled the country in phone calls. But no one in the insurance world could understand what I was talking about.
I didn't get angry. But I was pissed off. And my wife was pissed off. And because my wife and I were pissed off – our children were also pissed off.
Then I tracked down Danny. He's on the 'A' team. And he's in Oldham.
Danny said that if I could prove that I was insured with RIAS/MBC I would get my £53.80 back. Which sounds damn good really. But then again, it’s only fair. Because it is my £53.80. Although my wife reckons to have a claim on some of it. And, of course, there are the children – with Christmas and all that...
So I sent the 'A' team a copy of my RIAS/MBC schedule.
But the 'A' team never sent me my £53.80. I don't know why. Danny said they would.
Not only didn't they send the £53.80. But they didn't send me any nasty letters in which they refused to return my £53.80. They didn't even tell me to get stuffed – or anything.
In other words – they ignored me. And they ignored my wife. And they ignored my children.
But in October neither you nor your company took any money out of my bank. And that was correct – because I'm not insured with the you or your company. I, and my wife and children, were relieved that you didn't take anything out. But we were also disappointed that they didn't put the £53.80 back in.
Then, on Saturday, I got a letter from Oldham. It wasn't from Danny and it wasn't from the 'A' team. But it was from Oldham. And it was from your company.
This letter was from 'G K – for the company.' And 'G K – for the company,' says that on the 11th of November, she, or he, as the case may be – is going to take out another £53.80 from my account. And then on the 11th of every month for the rest of my life she, or he, as the case may be, is going to take out £26.90. And I don't think that's right – because I'm not insured with you. And I don't know any GK. And my wife doesn't know any G K. And my children don't know any GK – whoever she, or he, may be.
I'm not saying it would be stealing if 'the company' starts taking money out of my account – for something that I haven't got. But I don't think that it would be fair. And my wife doesn't think it would be fair. And my children don't think it would be fair.
I'm not very highly qualified. And my wife and children are not very highly qualified. But we know what's fair. And we know what isn't fair. And we don't think this is fair.
So if 'the company' tries to take any money out of my account on the 11th of any month, I'm going ask the Insurance Ombudsman if he thinks it's fair. And if the 'A' team don't give me back my £53.80, I'm going to ask the Ombudsman if he thinks that's fair ...
Yours faithfully
‘For the family’
Insurance Companyl
Your Ref:- As Seen
Policy no:- As Seen
Claim Ref No. 4300 355 7827
Crime No. DA 971
Dear Whoever
Ref. your letter dated 7/11 – in which you invite me to renew the insurance on a burnt-out hulk for the bargain price of £185.62...
Please refer to the lesson below – taken from a copy of Insurance for Beginners, price £185.62, including post and packaging.
Insurance for Beginners.
Lesson 1
Step 1... Punter buys car.
Step 2... Punter must insure car.
Step 3... Insurance company squeezes as much as possible out of punter.
Step 4... Insurance company acts very efficient and reminds punter to send off his money every year.
Step 5... Insurance company continues to squeeze the punter every year.
Step 6... Punter gets his car nicked and burnt-out.
Step 7... Punter reports the loss to the Insurance company.
Step 8... Insurance company acts dumb – and does nothing.
Step 9... Punter tells the Insurance Company that the police are complaining about the burnt out hulk. and the Insurance Company will be liable to a charge if the police go to investigate.
Step10... Insurance remove their finger and remove the hulk. Otherwise it might cost them money
Step11... Punter waits patiently.
Step12... Insurer sends the punter an urgent reminder to re-insure the burnt-out hulk.
Step13... Go back to 3 above.
Exam Question... Does the Insurance Company think that the punter is a dickhead?
Glossary... punter = me.
Insurance company = you.
Having studied the above lesson, I have decided not re-insure the burnt-out hulk. But I am looking forward to an offer from you.
Thanks
2008
Managing Director
Dear Sir
This is a complaint. Yes - I know that it should have been sent to the complaints department. But I e-mailed them last Saturday and they still haven’t replied.
My wife wanted a weekend in London and, for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to travel by train. So I agreed - like you do. I usually go by bus, for obvious reasons but...
So we looked at the timetable on your internet site. And, from that, we decided to leave Cardiff on the 1125 on Saturday the 26th January, with 0 changes, and return on Monday the 28th.
Being a bold boy I decided to book the ticket via telesales. I like human contact. And it would save a trip into town. So it seemed like a good idea. Uh!
Anyway, I make the phone call and, ‘Arriva Trains,’ says your man.
‘Good morning. I want two returns from Cardiff to London,’ I tell him.
‘When do you want to travel?’ he wonders.
‘We want to travel out on the 1125 on Saturday the 26th and return from Paddington on the 1645 on Monday the 28th,’ I tell him, then, ‘which are the cheapest tickets,’ I ask. I’m paranoid because I’ve heard rumours about the railways being a rip-off.
‘Have you got a railcard?’ he wonders.
‘No,’ I tell him. ‘But do you still do that Apex thing?’ My wife prompted me on that one.
‘Two returns; Cardiff to London; no railcard,’ he mumbles, ignoring the Apex question.
‘Yes,’ I agree. I can tell by his voice that there’s no point in pushing complex questions.
‘Cardiff to London on Saturday the 26th. Change at Bath,’ he mumbles again.
‘No. Direct,’ I tell him.
‘Change at Bath,’ he insists.
‘No. I want the direct route,’ I insist back, studying the timetable.
‘There are no direct trains from Cardiff to London on a Saturday,’ he announces. ‘change at Bath.’
‘Two capital cities and no direct trains. Forget it!’ I gasp in horror. He’s too thick to argue with.
‘Right. I’ll nip into town and book bus tickets,’ I tell my wife.
To cut a long story short, my wife insisted that we have one last try – at the ticket office.
There, in the station, I got excellent service, common sense and a direct train to London.
So this is a complaint about your man on telesales. And, at the same time, it also becomes a complaint about a complaints department that ignores complaints.
I had to make a trip into town to get a ticket. I wouldn’t trust your e-mail set-up.
My old granny used to say, ‘if you don’t run a circus don’t employ clowns.’
I guess she had life sussed.
Yours wearily
To the Manager
Sunday lunch in your hotel
Booked for 1230
The worst service I've ever seen in
any hotel in any place in the world!
Dear Sirs
Bearing in mind that I am not interested in staffing problems, and that at no time during this whole pantomime was the restaurant more than a quarter full.
Saturday – my wife and I invite our daughter and her husband to have Sunday lunch with us at your hotel. They bring baby Charlie, age one-and-a-bit, along with them.
We're old-hands at eating-out. We do it a lot. We've never complained before. But this one's ridiculous.
We enter the restaurant promptly at 1230 – as arranged. We are shown to a table for four and given a high chair for the toddler. All is going fine. Charlie is in the chair and we're getting seated. But now a waiter approaches and says we can't use this table. He doesn't say why. But he leads us to another table at the far end of the room.
The table we've abandoned doesn't have 'RESERVED' on it. And, apart from one other couple, we're the only people in the room. And the abandoned table is still vacant when we leave. But we don't think about this at the time.
With hindsight, and in view of the events that follow, I say that once we were allocated a table we should have stuck with it. We were there first. No one claimed it while we were in the room. People who came later should have been allocated the other table or have had this one reset for them. 'Keep it simple.' That's my motto.
After the disruption, Charlie refuses to go back in the high-chair which makes things a bit uncomfortable for his parents. But hey-ho. That's life.
When we ask if we can order, the waiter says that someone will be along shortly to take our order. Then he comes back and says that they won't be taking orders because it's a buffet-lunch and we can help ourselves.
That's fine. We go to buffets and carveries all the time. But maybe we are a little surprised that all the staff weren't informed about the buffet before we arrived.
So now we come to the complaints.
The buffet is laid-out in a separate room. As I enter the room, the spread is facing me. I see Containers of hot meat to the right, all labelled. And there's cold food to the left. So far so good.
There's no member of staff in here to point anything out. So I help myself to a piece of lamb, find the roast potatoes, and wonder what I do for veg. But all I can see is the cold spread.
I'm a bit confused. In the end I bite the bullet and start putting a selection of cold stuff on my plate – hoping that it won't clash with the meat. Maybe the Copthorne knows something about food-combinations that my wife hasn't told me.
Now I start looking for some gravy to put on the meat. But there is none! The others are looking too. But they can't find it either. In desperation they baste their meat with fat from the containers.
But I'm a gravy-person so I keep looking. It's now that I stumble on the hot vegetables. They were in a bowl on a table behind me all the time. Not obvious, because when you come through that door your eyes are drawn to the meat and the cold-buffet. 'Never look back.' That's my motto.
It's now that I spot the soup. It's at the far end of this table that was behind me. 'Damn!' I'm a soup person. But now I've got this back-to-front main-course on my hands. In many hotels, soup is treated like a starter. But not here. It's the last thing you find while you're hunting for the none-existent gravy. The sweets are by the door as you come in. We're in a topsy-turvy world.
I go back to my table and eat my meal. I hear other guests complaining that they weren't told it was a buffet. I see a mother with a baby walking to and fro looking for something. Maybe she's a gravy-person too.
More confusion. We all have dirty plates. But we're still hungry and need to go back and get some of that cold stuff which didn't blend with the red-meat. There's no one to ask. And there's no room on the table for any more plates. So we feel obliged to eat the cold buffet off the dirty plates – camping-style.
I'm over that hurdle now. So I go up for my sweet. But there are no pudding-plates. Other people are looking too. In the end I settle for a clean dinner-plate. It could be worse. I could be in Iraq. 'Ah – it is worse.' There is no splice or spoon to get the sweet to the plate. 'Sod it!' I pick it up with my bare hand, drop it on the plate and lick my fingers. Improvisation!
Now – feast over – we sit with our cups and saucers in front of us and wait for coffee ... and wait ... and wait ... and wait ...?
This is the best bit!
A couple come in and sit at the table next to us. They're just a run-of-the-mill, normal couple. No wheelchairs, crutches or trikes. They're as mobile as us. But, as they sit down, a fawning waitress appears beside their table – like a genie out of a bottle. A moment later, she's back with two plates loaded with meat. Then she says, in a voice loud enough for us to hear, 'I know you like it hot. Would you like me to take it and warm it up for you?'
I don't believe this.
Now she's back with a bowl of hot vegetables and a gravy boat. They've got table-service, a proper dinner – and bloody gravy!
I pinch myself. Is it all a dream? I look round and find myself playing spot-the-camera. Are we on TV?
But look at the time. We can't wait any longer. We'll have to drag ourselves away from all this joy.
At the cash desk, the lady takes me for £76. My daughter asks if the non existent coffee was included in the price. It's a basic question. But the lady says she doesn't know.
My son-in-law asks the same question at reception and gets the same answer. Reception asks the acting-manager. The acting-manager comes to the restaurant and has a word with the lady who doesn't know – then offers us coffee.
He's very nice. But it's too late. Baby Charlie's still pissed off about the high-chair. And his parents are anxious to get him back into that sane world outside the hotel. We turn the coffee down.
Yours in bewilderment
Quality Control
Dear Sir/Madam
The attached sharp-piece of Highland Pine Forest was in one of your tins of tomato & brown lentil soup.
It ended up in my mouth and I bit it in two. I know that the label warns us that the soup is a source of fibre – but this is over the top.
I won't go into the potential dangers for children etc. But I would welcome your comments.
The soup was purchased at Tesco's. And the identification on the lid is L617ZP 2129. And what looks like 786.
Your faithfully
(They gave me several tins of free soup for this one}.
11 April 1996
The Ramblers Association
Gresford
Dear Sir/Madam
This is about a little right of way problem I had this morning.
References are for Ordnance Survey Map, Landranger 171, Cardiff, Newport.
I set out to follow the footpath going from grid ref. ST 109 750 to ST 105 755. This goes over the Traherne estate past Coedarhydyglyn House. But when I looked for it I found that the footpath was not marked and all traces of it had been obliterated by hedges and barbed wire.
While I was trying to follow it’s course I was challenged by a gentleman from the estate who was rather supercilious and asked what I was doing "walking over - private land?!"
I said, “I’m trying to follow the footpath, but it’s been obliterated.”
He then said, “if you had a map, you would see that are - on private land!”
I said, “I have a map and it says there’s a right of way.”
He then said, “there is no footpath. And if you could read your map you would see that you are on - private land!”
I said, “I can read my map and it says there’s a right of way.“
He demanded to see my map, which I showed him. Then he banged his finger, triumphantly, just below Coedarhydyglyn House and said "this is where you are - on private land!"
To which I replied "correct... on a right of way." And when he looked he found that his finger was right on the path.
He then backed down and acknowledged that there was a footpath and reluctantly muttered that I was, “welcome to follow it.”
But that was impossible because the way was impassable.
He then told me that he had trouble with people burning out cars and he had to look after his animals. So that's why there were fences. He then assured me that he didn't want to keep people out, and acknowledged my right to be there.
Which is fair enough.
But the point is, if the land owner doesn't know the path exists, and this one obviously didn't, he could expose the likes of me to a lot of danger. He could have bulls or mad dogs roaming the right of way.
In the great scheme of things, I suppose that this incident is no big deal really, but I just feel that you should be aware it.
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