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A place you can bank on a load of hassle.

AS her indoors is not too nimble on her pins any more, it is down to muggins to do the up town shopping and banking thing, and so, armed with her bank book, some dosh and a bus pass I made the three-mile journey into that pearl of the Midlands, Wolverhampton.

Now, as anyone over the age of 60 will tell you, standing in a queue that is light years long, while two myopic bank tellers do the business is not conclusive to good health, in that the old internal plumbing needs to relieve pressure and the patience levels tend to get a bit ragged around the edges.

After what seemed like hours, I approach the bench, only to be told that as my name is not on the bank book, they can't take the money (when have you ever heard of a bank that will not take the money?) and will issue a receipt, but can not enter it in on the pass book. Hang about, banks these days give wonga to Fred Flintstone, Scooby Doo and Top Cat! But it is all down to... wait for it... data protection.

So there's me, white hair looking my age, proof of who I am, paying money in and they are spouting corporate blah blah.

If I were trying to take money out of the bank, then I could understand it.

The upshot is that I now have to shovel her indoors into the passion wagon, drive into town again and try and park as near as possible while paying for the privilege, sit down with a staff member with passports to fill in forms, answer a load of damn fool questions, just to get my name on her pass book so that I can pay money in.

This over-the-top, belt-andbraces financial control has to stop. Surely common sense should prevail? Is it me or is life now become so controlling and constricted that even the simplest of things have morphed into a three act drama? Back in Levy Towers my Doris (Doris is a generic name given to all old 'uns) freaked out, thinking her account was to be made into a joint account and that I would now be able to access her filthy lucre... as if I would, perish the thought.

I explained that it only allows me to pay it in and not to take it out.

After she came down off the ceiling and put away the carving knife I explained it all to her, but I will still be sleeping with one eye open from now on.

Tony Levy, Wednesfield

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Publication:Birmingham Mail (England)
Date:Oct 17, 2017
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