One.Tel Don’t Want My Money

After a phone bill the size of the national debt I decided it was time to, belatedly, take action. Here in the UK BT charge a premium on most services and mugs like me pay them. Well, no longer. I’d heard good things about One.Tel so decided to try their international call package. I tried to sign up on the web but it told me that I may already have an account and to call customer services.

Oh dear.

Three and a half minutes of infuriating hold musak later I was through to a real life human being. I gave him our phone number, my name and had to tell him three times that I didn’t have a password because I didn’t have an account. I was, however, keen to sign up to their service and give them lots of money. This, I think, rather bewidered our highly paid customer service professional who had obviously never encountered this scenario with a customer before.

Which was a little puzzling.

After a couple of minutes of confused tippy tapping and muttering I was informed that there was already an account for that phone number. Sure, I said, that would have been the previous tenant because this is a rental property.

This is where they lost my money, so pay attention.

Oh, he said, in that case we will send you a form and you can fill it in and send it back to us with your last two phone bills and a covering letter. I said no, I would like you to sort it out or I will take my business elsewhere. Sorry sir, he said, its the forms for you. The call swiftly ended.

It’s not my problem that they have an existing account (which will have been inactive for nearly two years, because that’s how long we have been here). The customer experience is awful. They should have been able to open me an account and charge me for any phone calls from now on. But no, the paper work fascists had been at work and I had to do their jobs for them.

Which brings me to the purpose of this post.I still don’t want to give all of my money to BT, so does anyone have any suggestions of a decent long distance operator?

The Lights Go Dim

The normally pedestrian level of activity on this weblog will be reduced even further over the next week or so. We are off on holiday. The Todd family, along with the Lewis’ and the Perrys of Reading are off to Devon for a week of rest (?) and recuperation.

I suspect I’ll need a holiday by the time it’s over. Please amuse yourselves whilst I’m gone, and failing that I have included another picture of the boy. Instead of spot the ball, with that photo you have to play "Spot the Cheese".

Nothing Doing

JFGP and I have just returned from a couple of days visiting his grandparents. Later today we are off to Perry mansions where he will be deposited for the whole of tomorrow whilst SWMBO and I spend the day at Henley. Pimms ahoy!

Barcelona Photos

Sliding on a wooden floor On instructions from SWMBO I present yet another photo of JFGP pictured here in our hotel room in Barcelona.

Cue isn’t he cute/lovely etc comments. More importantly, what it doesn’t mention on that Trip Advisor link that I posted above is that this hotel has a unique feature. The in room mini bar is free. Not only that but it includes beer. I know it’s not really free and that we paid for it but what a winner. Most hotels charge like a wounded bull just to open the door of the in-room mini fridge but at this hotel you can help yourself to the contents and they refill it every day. Bostin.

Futebol

The family Todd are just back from a four day break in Barcelona. Lovely town, lovely people, lovely food and lovely rioja. Marvellous.

Mind you, sharing a hotel room with JFGP does limit one’s evening adventures somewhat. We were reduced to watching Spanish television (and CNN naturally).

Unless we wanted to watch third rate Bruce Forsyth clones present incomprehensible games shows we were faced with a diet of wall to wall Euro 2004. My opinions on football are somewhat similar to Jon from Rogue Semiotics, but I swallowed my pride (and a couple of San Miguels) and watched anyway.

It was sometimes amusing, sometimes interesting and always educational. We noted that the commentary on TVE was almost as useful as the work of some British practitioners of the art. But far more interesting was that rather than put on a panel of half rate windbags at half time to endlessly discuss the match they just show fifteen minutes of adverts. It’s a shame the BBC can’t do the same.

This weekend I did not watch any rugby.

Making the Most of a Bad Lot

A final mention, for now, of UK politics. Last week in addition to the Mayoral election there was a Europe wide poll for the European Parliament. As I may have mentioned before, Scaryduck wrote a tremendous piece on narrow minded people. Unsurprisingly he chose the Cornish.

In turn it wasn’t a great surprise that the UKIP received lots of votes in the South West. Mainly from those who think that they are being hard done by. Usually, they think, by Europe, London, Plymouth or just up the road. Because everyone really *is* out to get them. Hang on, no we’re not, that’s the plan for dealing with the Welsh.

As Richard Allan points out in this post it’s not just a matter of getting out of the EU, but rather what do you replace its rules and institutions with? Mr Kilroy Silk and his friends like to blame Europe for all of the supposed ills of the country, but would the alternative be any better? In essense they are saying that we should just think back to the wonderful times before the UK joined the EU and how things were so much better then. Except they weren’t of course.

I’d like to bring my contribution to a close by illustrating my point with this quote from the fictional newsreader Henry Davenport on Drop the Dead Donkey from season 3 episode 9 (entitled "Paintball");

"Every generation kids itself about the good old days. The Victorians hankered after the eighteenth century. In the eighteenth century they all went around saying that kids were better behaved a hundred years earlier when they were dying from bubonic plague. There has never been a golden age. I bet you the dinosaurs went round bleating ‘I bet you never got any of this egg stealing in the jurassic period.’

It’s all nostalgia. Nostalgia is the last refuge of the moron, to paraphrase Dr Johnson, and they don’t make writers like him anymore."

Top, top, show. I think I’ve got a new catch phrase for this blog.