I then dropped in to the hospital to book a blood test as they'd cocked up the one they did just 3 weeks ago, they asked if I was sure I had been to that hospital before as they'd lost my case notes??? I had 3 little guys with me that proved for sure I had been to the maternity hospital before, not to mention their letter telling me their last blood test had been unsuccessful. While there, I noticed signs everywhere mentioning parking charges were coming into force next week, on Sunday (odd choice) no less! That is really handy - they have those meters you have to prepay the number of hours you expect to stay. Given a 20 minute appointment can drag out to 2 hours, that is a problem in itself, but what are you actually meant to do when you arrive for either Yorkhill casualty (guess whether you will be there the usual 4 hours or be admitted for 18 like happened to me last month, or worse still for the Queen Mum's - are you meant to be dropped at the door in labour and left to make your own way in while your partner searches for a parking space while trying to guess the length of your labour? It seems to be about £1 an hour so I guess my kids would have cost me about £20-£22 each. Grrrrrr!
Then the day got even better! I had received a parking permit renewal letter while on holiday. To start with I feel nothing but venom at having to paty £12 a month to park in front of my own house when I pay council tax anyway - fine make parking permits necessary, it is the city after all, but issue me it free with my council tax bill, please! Anyway, I struggled across the city in the heat with all 3 kids, handed over my renewal letter and my carlog book to a snooty 18 year old who told me I needed proof of residence. I asked what my log book (with address) and their letter (with address) were if not proof. I got the standard answer - I needed a 'utility bill' - for heavens sake come into the 21st century - NOBODY gets bloody utility bills anymore - we get e-bills. And even if people do get utility bills, they often live with people who have different surnames from the one on the car log book...
So I took another half an hour to drive back and pick up my council tax bill - which had to be dated within 3 months. I checked - 2 days to go - so I rushed back across the city to show them that. The same snooty wee girl then looked at it and told me - this is a bill for a council tax adjustment to last year's total so I can't accept it. I protested in vain that it was still within the 3 months and she then said she would rather see my other bills - dated 4 months ago but showing this year's total bill. Where did logic go? They want a month older bill from the same department, but can't accept a month younger one. At this point she suggested I sprint up to John street, 15 mins away and back to get a printout proving where I lived (25 degrees, 3 kids in tow, no buggy). I offered my road tax reminder letter from the Department of transport, dated 2 weeks ago, no not enough proof. I offered my driving license, no not proof enough. I wanted to reach across the partition and ring her smug little neck by then - silly child. As I stormed out she called after me - And even if you bring me a utility bill tomorrow, it might take me 10 working days to process it. So if I don't blog tomorrow night, you'll know I am starting the life sentence for murder!
I came home and renewed my tax online, by the way - no problem - I gave one number and it found my address, car insurance (without me telling them who I was insured with) etcetc. It does make you wonder - given everyone who pays council tax is registered and the jobsworths at Glasgow City Council insist on seeing half a dozen proofs of that, why, in this day and age, can't they just type my name into their computer to have my current address confirmed the same way as the Department of Transport did a few hours later - wouldn't that be sensible?