It's an act of faith placing your bank card into a cashpoint machine. You might scrutinise the machine's metal front for evidence of potential tampering, just for a split second, but generally there's no reason why your card shouldn't be completely entrusted to the mechanised interior. You push your small plastic rectangle into the little slot, watch it disappear, do your business and then expect your card to come back. I've been using cashpoints for twenty years (because they're bloody convenient and they save queueing inside the bank for hours) and nothing's gone wrong yet. Until yesterday, that is.
There's a pair of cashpoints on the landing halfway down the escalators at Cutty Sark DLR station. It's always struck me as a strange place for a financial facility, suspended in some artificial transport netherworld, but at least it's usually quiet. It was very quiet yesterday afternoon so I decided to stop off and withdraw some money. I didn't really need some, I could have survived a few more days on the cash content of my wallet, but the convenience of the opportunity attracted me. Drat. And I could have chosen the cashpoint on the right rather than the cashpoint on the left because they were both available, but I didn't. Double drat.
I didn't mean to ask for a balance enquiry on my account, I just pressed the wrong button. Never mind, I thought, I'll just go through the motions, wait a bit and then request a withdrawal. Alas no. It was at this point that the cashpoint's internal computer rebooted. I was no longer being presented with procedural options, just a screenful of technical processing commands - rather like watching a late 20th century PC spluttering back into life after some random internal glitch. The rebooting continued, very very slowly, with more techie gibberish followed by complete and utter blankness. Damn. I stood helplessly watching the empty slot from which it was becoming increasingly evident my card was never going to return. A succession of other travellers used the cashpoint to my right, successfully each time, probably wondering why on earth I was hanging around quite so suspiciously by their side. And finally the stark green words Temporarily Out Of Service flashed up on my screen, and my monetary bereavement was complete.
This is presumably where you expect me to tell you of my continued tale of woe. How I checked my online bank statement and discovered several mammoth withdrawals from a high street I've never visited. How I rang my bank's service centre and spent fifteen munutes struggling to explain to an illiterate foreigner that my card had mysteriously vanished. Or how I'm going to be left destitute for weeks before my replacement card arrives. But no. A human being with a friendly Scottish accent answered my call a split-second after I pressed the button for 'stolen or lost cards'. My replacement card and PIN number should be arriving separately in the post within the week. And if I need any money in the meantime all I have to do is pop into any Abbey branch with photo ID and a bank statement and they'll pay up. Not all UK customer service is yet crap. Hurrah! Although I do have this nagging doubt that as many as three important letters have disappeared on their way to my letterbox over the past few weeks, so I'll not start feeling too optimistic until my new card arrives. And damn, I used to know my 16-digit card number off by heart - now I'll need to learn a new one...
Hurricanefacts • Tropical cyclones are called hurricanes in the Atlantic and typhoons in the Pacific. • Hurricanes rotate anti-clockwise in the northern hemisphere, and clockwise in the southern hemisphere. • For a hurricane to form, ocean temperature must be at least 26½°C down to a depth of at least 50m. • One third of Atlantic hurricanes form in September, and three quarters between August and October.
Hurricane force: Force 1 (minimal): 74-95mph [110 have hit the US since 1851, 1 of them this year] Force 2 (moderate): 96-110mph [72 have hit the US since 1851] Force 3 (extensive): 111-130mph [73 have hit the US since 1851, 2 of them this year] Force 4 (extreme): 131-155mph [19 have hit the US since 1851, 1 of them this year] Force 5 (catastrophic): 156+mph [3 have hit the US since 1851 - in 1935, 1969 and 1992]
• Hurricane Able was the first named hurricane, in 1950. • Only female names were used from 1953 until 1979 - now hurricanes alternate in gender. • A list of 21 names is picked for each hurricane season. Lists repeat every 6 years. • This year's list will be reused in 2011, but Katrina and Rita will almost certainly be retired. • There are only four names left on this year's list. If the names run out (which would be the first time ever) then Greek letters will be used instead.
While I've been writing about Open House and ITV's 50th, a number of other notable events and anniversaries have slipped under the radar. Here's a few that I missed...
Sunday, 18 September, 2005 Fifty years ago Britain officially annexed the tiny islet of Rockall, a remote rocky outcrop located 287 miles west of mainland Scotland. Back in 1955 a Royal Navy helicopter lowered two sailors onto the island's only narrow ledge where the Union flag was raised in a shamelessly political attempt to extend British territorial waters. And then they left. An SAS chappie lasted five weeks on Rockall back in 1985, but the only current inhabitants are a few squawking seabirds. When listening to the shipping forecast I've always wondered... (etc etc)
Monday, 19 September, 2005Dr Thomas Barnado died 100yearsago today. He's famous for his pioneering children's homes, the first of which opened in 1870 just down the road from me in Stepney. When I was a kid living in cosy suburbia I had a Barnardo's collecting box shaped like a little cottage, in which I (occasionally) used to collect a piddling amount of small change. Every year all of the cottage-fillers in my village were invited to a big garden party at which our boxes were ritually opened and copious thanks showered upon us. Unjustly, in my case, I suspect. I threw a pound coin into a Barnardo's collecting bucket at my local tube station tonight, and I had a nasty feeling that this single donation was larger than everything I'd ever managed to contribute to this fine charity in the past. Next year maybe I should... (etc etc)
Monday, 19 September, 2005 Everybody's favourite sitcom Fawlty Towers was first broadcast thirty years ago tonight. I remember sitting down and watching it as a curious ten year old, and loving it. Not that the case of Lord Melbury's mistaken identity was the best of the twelve episodes ever made, but all that farcical class snobbery we grew to adore was present right from the very start. John Cleese probably never topped... (etc etc)
Thursday, 22 September, 2005 We don't have libraries in Tower Hamlets any more. Libraries are old hat. Not even historic WhitechapelLibrary, the famous intellectual refuge which opened back in 1892 bringing books and culture to the poor undereducated masses of the East End. A huge collection of Jewish texts was built up, overtaken more recently by an even larger set of Bengali books, inspiring several generations to academic greatness. But 21st century locals don't want musty shelves any more, they want internet terminals and beanbags, so this remarkable building finally closed to the public last month. Its replacement is a shiny glass 'IdeaStore', up the road next to Sainsbury's, and it opens today. It's the only way to inspire the borough's youth, I know, but I can't help feeling that the Whitechapel Idea Store won't have anywhere near as significant a legacy as its eradicated counterpart... (etc etc)
Thursday, 22 September, 2005 The London Olympics open in precisely 2500 days time. Not long when there's a stadium or seven to build and an industrial wasteland to eradicate. So far almost nothing tangible has changed on the Stratford Olympic site, but what has changed is that even the tiniest non-event around here is now news. Potential killer turtle spotted; mini nuclear reactor uncovered; giant hogweed on the loose - everything hits the headlines now, however minor. But there's still approximately 500 days to go until the media can report the rather more newsworthy headline 'Olympic demolition starts'. Come visit while you still can... (etc etc)
Sunday, 18 September, 2005 Fifty years ago Britain officially annexed the tiny islet of Rockall, a remote rocky outcrop located 287 miles west of mainland Scotland. Back in 1955 a Royal Navy helicopter lowered two sailors onto the island's only narrow ledge where the Union flag was raised in a shamelessly political attempt to extend British territorial waters. And then they left. An SAS chappie lasted five weeks on Rockall back in 1985, but the only current inhabitants are a few squawking seabirds. When listening to the shipping forecast I've always wondered... (etc etc)
Thursday, 22 September, 2005 The London Olympics open in precisely 2500 days time. Not long when there's a stadium or seven to build and an industrial wasteland to eradicate. So far almost nothing tangible has changed on the Stratford Olympic site, but what has changed is that even the tiniest non-event around here is now news. Potential killer turtle spotted; mini nuclear reactor uncovered; giant hogweed on the loose - everything hits the headlines now, however minor. But there's still approximately 500 days to go until the media can report the rather more newsworthy headline 'Olympic demolition starts'. Come visit while you still can... (etc etc)
