How come I have to bare all in order to be covered?

So there I was, sitting nervously in the bank manager's very public, open-plan, shared office, telling the nice stranger on the phone all about my medical history. "Where was the mole, did you say?", she asked. I ended my reply with an embarrassed laugh, prompting the disembodied voice to giggle. This wasn't exactly the response I needed to put me at ease, but it is better than the cold, professional silence, that sometimes greets me, when I actually try to make people laugh. Still, having to go through every ailment with the insurance lady, in front of the young man, who busied himself and may not have heard anything, was not something I hope to do again any time soon.

I probably won't have to. You see, my husband and I were sorting out our mortgage and also applying for incapacity insurance for it. In other words, should one of us become too ill to work, our mortgage payments will still be covered, and then some. I think. Honestly, I tried to listen, I really did, but it was so boring, that I just could not remember all the details. I was, however, desperately trying to remember all the details of my past ailments, just in case they were relevant to the medical questions they asked me. I don't even think all my answers were needed, but having heard about people whose life-insurance claims are turned down due to them never having told the insurers about some ancient, unrelated illness has made me really paranoid.

If I had ever worried further about finances, it turns out I can always rely on the Post Office. Increasingly, the Post Office workers try to sell me things, when I am just trying to post some letters. The other day, I had finished sending some items, when the cashier asked me whether I would like a Post Office Master Card. "No thanks, my husband has one", I replied, breezily. "We do 0% on balance transfers for 18 months", she persisted. "I have no debt", I said, feeling rather pleased. "Oh, you pay it off every month", she stated with what I thought was a realisation of defeat. Then, having clearly hit upon what she thought was a brilliant comeback, she offered this nugget: "If you ever get separated, and you want to treat yourself, you can get a card."

Separated from what? My common sense?! How kind of the Post Office to encourage me to comfort myself by buying things I can't afford. Losing my life-long partner is bound to feel so much better, if I treat myself to some debt, which I am unable to pay back.Also, in the midst of my emotional hell, would I really be likely to remember the rather desperate sales talk of the Post Office worker and think: "I know, I will get myself a credit card so I can improve my situation by buying some treats for myself."

Still, there we have it. Should I ever get divorced, I may lose my sanity, my health and my happiness. Our children's family will be broken up, my life will fall apart, but hey, at least the Post Office will support me. Terms and conditions apply.....

Rage against the machine or: How come I can't use it?

Well, I had a load of notes about how annoying I find technology, only I have just managed to delete them all - along with a load of my other blog notes. Wonderful.

I wish we all still had to write letters, or, at a pinch, phone our friends. I honestly hate mobile phones and the grip they seem to have on me, and other people. A few months ago, while sitting in the garden with our youngest, I was, as is unfortunately often the case, sending a text to a friend. Upon finishing I suddenly realised that I now had a hair-clip in my hair. "How did that get there? Did you put it in?", I asked our daughter. Turns out she had, without me even noticing. Oh, the shame.

Unfortunately, I am exceptionally bad at using any mobile phone if it is even slightly modern and complicated. Thus, when we were driving one time, my husband's phone rang. It was his mother. I tried picking it up in time, but failed. The phone rang again. Still his mother. More desperate this time, I tried again. Still no luck. When I tried phoning her back, all I managed to do was send a text (to somebody else) with a pre-typed message in it. So, if you ever phone me and I appear to hang up, or not answer, do not worry. It is nothing personal, I am simply incompetent. Or maybe I just don't like you : 0


The way in which people become so addicted to the feeling of being constantly connected to the wider world, through their phones and laptops, is worrying. Sadly, this often means neglecting the people closest to them. Why do people feel the need to update others on their every move instead of just enjoying their life and spending time with their families? Even worse, it seems to be increasingly socially acceptable to stare at the phone in your hand, rather than actually talking to the friend you are supposedly spending time with. This is still not as bad as speaking at a conference, only to find the live Twitter feed screened behind you, filling up with comments about how boring your speech is. Sounds too rude to be true? Sadly not, this really did happen to someone.



While I am not on Facebook, Twitter or any of the other social networks, and while I do not enjoy being online (yes, really), I do sometimes find myself being addicted to the web. Hence why I am currently spending hour upon hour searching out various fabrics, wallpapers, tiles and accessories for our new house. No wonder my husband seems increasingly to have given up any control of the budget!

Pets Part 2: How come poodles don't come in pink?

Have you ever wondered why your dog doesn't seem to match your clothes? No, me neither. Though some silly people do treat their pooches as accessories - with potentially dire consequences. Take Camilla the chihuahua, for example. Neil Martin, manager at Bleakholt Animal Sanctuary in Edenfield, told the Lancashire Telegraph in 2011, how this poor dog developed a skin disorder from being carted around in a handbag. Yes really. She was treated as a fashion accessory and dumped when the owners could not be bothered to deal with her allergy. Also, carrying dogs around means they do not learn to socialise properly, which is apparently why Camilla is aggressive.

Rather than, or perhaps as well as, being treated as accessories, of course, some pets are laden with accessories.



Photo taken from http://www.pluspets.net/dressed-pets/

Does this dog look happy to you? Dignified, perhaps? I especially wonder about the glasses, though perhaps they are sunglasses and are supposed to actually be useful. I did use to dress up my own dog, but I was 10 years old and still silly enough to not worry too much about the dog's rights. However, why any adult would want to humiliate and encumber their pet like that is beyond me.

Perhaps if more dogs looked like the vision in pink above, my children would not be anywhere near as scared of them. Which brings me onto the question of why many dog owners feel entitled to impose their slobbering killing machines on the rest of us? A few months ago, for example, a big (ish) black dog was bouncing around happily, near our young daughters, who were excited but scared. The owner cheerfully said (in a posh, Surrey accent) that the dog was harmless, as she "looooves children". Perhaps she forgot to add "as a snack", because as my husband bravely protected the girls against this blood-thirsty creature, the dog playfully nibbled at his hand instead of theirs. Of course, I may be "slightly" exaggerating...

 

Perhaps our daughters would be better off sticking to interacting with pets on a screen like the 7 year old girl who adopted me on the walk home from school. She chatted happily about a dog game she owned which meant I ended up having to persuade her that poodles do not "come in" pink. This was obviously before I saw the pinked-up pooch above.

The girl could have had an interesting and totally fruitless chat with the Argentinian man, who thought he was buying 2 poodles, when really he was buying 2 groomed, white ferrets, pumped up on steroids. He bought them at a local bazaar, which makes the story even more, ahem, bizarre. Why he could not tell the difference is anybody's guess, though the ferrets had been given steroids since birth (see below. The ferret is on the right, in case you were wondering).



Image credit: http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/home-garden/ferrets-on-steroids-sold-as-poodles/story-fngwib2y-1226615046465

Now, I was going to tell you the true and astonishing story of the Indian man who married a dog, because an astrologer had told him that this would cure his bad leg. I then discovered that this was not the only incident of a man marrying a dog, as superstitious people in India do sometimes arrange marriages to animals in order to lift curses. Another Indian man married a dog in 2007, because he believed that stoning two dogs to death had somehow cursed him (he had been suffering from paralysis and hearing loss since). He believed that marrying a female dog would lift this curse. Sounds dubious to me, but not as bad as the two-year old Indian boy who in 2009 was forced to marry a dog in order to protect himself and his village from wild animals. I - am - speechless. Which never happens. Honestly.

Pets part 1: How come your pet belongs in the wild?

Exotic pets - who would have them? The recent tragic case of the 2 young boys who were killed by a pet shop snake, reminded me of how ridiculous exotic pets are. I realise this snake escaped through an air vent, as opposed to being let out, but still. It was almost always in its vivarium, which is cruel and pointless. Why have a pet which you don't pet or at least allow some fresh air and space? This was a pet shop snake, but clearly the owner thought it unsuitable as a pet, I assume, since he described it as viscous. In that case, he should have passed it on to a sanctuary or zoo that could care for it appropriately. His failure to do so ultimately lead to the boys' deaths.

A 60-year old woman in Australia met an undignified end in 2007, when she was smothered by her pet camel. The creature had been her birthday present 5 month earlier, but she was either smothered to death by it or the attack brought on heart failure. The camel had knocked her down, stomped on her head and then sat on her face. Bizarrely, the cruel creature had previously tried to smother the family's pet goat on several occasions. At least a chihuahua couldn't do that.

Unfortunately, amongst the exotic pet lovers, you will sometimes find the kind of lonely people who decide that these wild animals are really their friends. That they have a special bond, and can enjoy play-fighting with their tigers, for example. Except these are not just slightly chubby, overgrown tabbies. Unless you fancy becoming a tiger titbit, or a snake snack, perhaps leave the exotic pets where they belong - in the wild or, at a push, a safari park. They are wild animals rather than our playthings.

As www.bigcatrescue.org points out, big cats are wired in such a way, that they no longer feel any love towards their mother, once they are fully grown. From then on, should they bump into her in the wild, they will kill her, as she is a territorial rival. The same could happen to the owner of a big cat. Why on earth would you want a pet like that?!

Also, sadly, according to the site, 98% of exotic pets die within the first 2 years (I am assuming they just mean big cats). Reading on, the article reveals the mind-boggling expense ($22.000.00/£14.195.00 in the first year) and hard work of keeping big cats healthy and safely confined, which is presumably why most of them die so young. If you choose to minimise costs and just keep them in your New York flat, like the 180 kg Bengal Tiger which was discovered, and rescued, in 2003, perhaps you deserve to meet a grizzly end.


Petsathome.com offer a freakishly large and cheap selection of reptiles. Why do they, and others, feel that anybody needs to welcome a Poison Dart Frog (£45), a Pink Toe Tarantula (£35) or an Albino Royal Python (£450) into their home? Again, these are wild animals. Admittedly, our daughters have got great pleasure out of interacting with reptiles at children's parties where professional companies bring them out and carefully monitor the animals during the sessions, but nobody really needs to interact with these animals. Let them live where they were meant to. I realise there is a conservation argument, but it is better to support the charities working to conserve the animals in the wild rather than spending money on the animals as pets.