Second Helpings

Battered and Broke

I don't think I've ever felt so shattered as I do right now. Paperwork, appointments and formalities continue in the midst of the annual mayhem at my favourite time of year. The world cares not for those who are grieving or troubled once the humbug chaos begins. A sad state of affairs in my humble opinion.

A word of advice if I may. My father was not a wealthy man and had worked hard all his life to buy his own humble home and save a little in the bank. It seems to me in these days of very low interest rates and financial difficulties we'd all be better off storing what ever little we can save under the mattress.

After six weeks of running around like the proverbial blue arsed fly, signing documents, presenting certificates, correcting the many mistakes of the so called professionals and generally trying to cope there has still not been one penny released from the bank or building society. Even the care home is sitting on overpayments until a date that suits them, obviously to their own advantage. I have to question whose money it is and what gives others the right to hang onto it for profit.

In the meantime I have solicitor's fees to pay and loads of other related bills, as well as trying to provide gifts for family and friends. My pensions cannot cover all that but it seems I have no right to my humble inheritance until the powers that be decide to release it.

My sister has to come over again tomorrow for yet more signings and identity proving sessions, but I suspect the excuse of humbug approaching will delay things even further. I've decided to go back with her on Wednesday for a couple of days as I'm seriously in need of a break. I just hope we can raise enough between us to fund our alcohol intake.