A close call

Disaster was narrowly avoided last week when, after forgetting to pay my annual rent on time, the council threatened to evict me from my plot!

After calculating a suitable opportunity during the wafer-thin window that the council offices are actually open, my good wife popped in clutching the cash. There, she was told in no uncertain terms by Clerk No.1 (excessively rude and unhelpful) that we were too late and we had to collect our stuff and be gone by Monday! On hearing this, I went down there myself and had a polite, yet heated debate with Clerk No.2 (excessively jolly but still unhelpful). She, despite not really appearing to know what their own rules were, waved a copy of the allotment agreement in my face and kept repeating the words 'it's a legal document' until I finally convinced her to check to see if I'd been sent an official Notice To Quit (I knew damn well that I hadn't). After a few minutes of panicked searching through folders with Miserable Clerk No.1, Jolly Clerk No.2 came back and promised me that Clerk No.3 (demeanour to be confirmed) would phone me back in the afternoon when she rolled into the office after lunch. This she duly did (turned out to be very helpful and polite, if somewhat abrupt) and I was allowed to pay my rent at last, as long as I could get there between 2.30 and 3.00 and pay cash or cheque only before they closed for the week.

So there we are. Disaster averted, no friends made, I fear.