Identity Theft

 

For once this is exactly what it says on the tin.  I’m talking literally.  I have never before been the victim of identity theft, but a few days ago my credit/c company phoned me to ask about a suspicious transaction.  It was over a grand.  They hadn’t let it go through so there was no real harm and they cancelled the card and are sending a new one.  I thought that was the end of it.

Then, yesterday, I go to the ATM to draw some money on my other c/c (I only have the two and use them for small transactions).  Machine tells me “insufficient funds”.  Now my heart starts to race because I’ve not spent anywhere near my limit and the first incident suddenly looks much more ominous.

I get home and log on to my account.  It’s in the minus.  One transaction near £2000 and another, as yet not gone through, for a similar amount.  The second one has probably not been authorised because my credit limit is really not that high, but my account has big red letters ordering me to pay immediately.

I’ve phoned the second c/c and explained it so it’s logged now, but I have no idea what happens in these cases.  I’m feeling stressed about it because a) I don’t know if it is a straightforward process to get the 2nd company to believe I didn’t order the transaction (it was a balance transfer) and b) this isn’t just one random breach on one card – it’s someone who has my details and knows where I have credit.  This freaks me out because I can’t think how someone would get that information.

I now have no credit as my cards are cancelled, but I’m more concerned to know how it happened and if I need to do something to stop it happening again.  I shred my post, but I do a lot of internet shopping, so whether that’s to blame???

I’m trying not to get panicked but I feel a little violated and I don’t really know of anyone else who this has happened to.

Summertime (hayfever poem/Ella Fitzgerald)

 

I’m so sick of this hayfever, aren’t you?  It’s grass pollen at the moment and that seems to be what I’m allergic to.  Anyway, you know that gorgeous song, Summertime?  No, not the Will Smith single   I’m thinking of Gershwin’s aria (I only just found out it’s technically an aria; I just knew it as that song Ella Fitzgerald sang). 

Well, I’ve changed the lyrics to make my hayfever poem, which is below.  It helps if you know the tune already, as I was singing the melody in my head when I changed the words around.  Below that are the original lyrics and below that is, hopefully, a youtube audio of the song aria being sung.

SUMMERTIME (a hayfever poem)

Summertime,
And the livin’ is sneezy
Nose is runnin’
And the pollen is high

Oh, your eyes start to itch
And your tear-ducts are fillin’
It’s okay baby
Let them tears roll by

One of these mornings
Your eyes will stop stinging
And when the birds sing..
You no longer yell, “DIE!”

But until that morning
Now, I don’t mean to alarm you
You’re stuck indoors, where you’re likely to fry

Summertime,
And the livin’ is sneezy
Nose is runnin’
And the pollen is high

Hayfever’s a bitch
And your face is a-puffin’
STEP AWAY from that daisy
‘Til your nose is dry

SUMMERTIME (real lyrics)

Summertime,
And the livin’ is easy
Fish are jumpin’
And the cotton is high

Oh, Your daddy’s rich
And your mamma’s good lookin’
So hush little baby
Don’t you cry

One of these mornings
You’re going to rise up singing
Then you’ll spread your wings
And you’ll take to the sky

But until that morning
There’s a’nothing can harm you
With your daddy and mammy standing by

Summertime,
And the livin’ is easy
Fish are jumpin’
And the cotton is high

Your daddy’s rich
And your mamma’s good lookin’
So hush little baby
Don’t you cry

A classic rendition (not the one I wanted, but still pretty good):

A more modern version – Leona on X-Factor:

IB50

 

I’ve received one of these lovely forms in the post, asking me to prove why I need benefits.  I reckon it must be the recent change in government that has kicked this off, as I remember something on the news about everyone claiming on the grounds of incapacity were going to be re-evaluated.

When I was well enough to do a bit of volunteering I filled in numerous benefits forms on behalf of people who would come in to take advantage of the form-filling service we offered.  I remember the drill.  So why has it taken me three weeks to get half-way through it?

It’s never the same when you’re doing something on someone else’s behalf, is it?  I am procrastinating because I really don’t want to write about my ‘incapacity’.  Although I moan on here when I have a bad day, that’s different, because I’m talking about my feelings.  These forms are much more clinical, and, at the end of the day, I know that if I don’t word things correctly, if I miss something out, if I mess it up, I’ll be hauled in for a medical examination and yada, yada, yada.

I don’t want to be on benefits, but nor do I want to be refused them whilst suitable employment is not readily available.  So, the bloody form…

Head two sizes too small for brain

 

I am speaking of my HANGOVER.  My brain is throbbing.

Why do I do it to myself?

Well, I don’t do it very often to be fair.  I’m past the happy young days when the hangovers were worth the nights out, and, additionally, I have my boring health condition to think of, which makes my recovery time considerably more than it should be.

Have you ever had the first inkling of a hangover, that point where you haven’t quite gone into full-blown detox mode?  It’s a sense of foreboding for the pain that will inevitably follow.  I can feel the throat tense, the head starting to pound and the dismay that I didn’t make myself drink a quota of water before I passed out.  Oh dear!

It was a house-warming.  I went out because I haven’t been out in a while, but it’s the curse of going out to a place where the people there are friendly, but not friends, if you know what I mean.  You get an invite because you are tangentially connected to someone, rather than because it’s your bosom buddies.  That’s the problem, though.  I don’t have any bosom buddies, so I either go out with less-than-bosom-buddies or I don’t go out.  I often choose the latter, but sometimes it’s like Jeez, I have to get out.

I should adjust my statement that I have no bosom buddies.  I have  two or three good friends, but I don’t see them too often because they have work and other stuff going on.

Anyway, the first pangs of crap, I am going to feel like death! have set in.  In some ways it’s a vicious circle because I wanted to get wasted, so that I would temporarily feel nothing, and also as a kind of self-abuse, and the hangover is a completely expected result.  Yet I, as always, get sucked into the cycle of excess-reproach-guilt.

I hate myself right now.  Logically, I know that people at that party wouldn’t have hated me, but I have the whole projection thing going on.  I’m a chore for people around me, people talk to me out of pity etc.  And it goes on…

I’ll try to nip that pointless self-reproach in the bud; after all, I didn’t puke until I got home – I think that was very civilized of me.  Invite me to your house-warming, coz I don’t puke ’til I’m face to face with my own toilet bowl.  A unique selling point, no?

Right, lying down now.  Memory of cheap vodka getting too much.  Hope anyone reading this is feeling less rough than I…

Country Estates

 

A few weeks ago I went to a stately home for the day, with my Mum.  Chatsworth.  I think we’d just watched Pride and Prejudice or something.  It was that day that was beautifully sunny sandwiched between days that were overcast.  Anyone remember that one?  A few pictures:

posh, innit?

someone was a bit handy with a paintbrush, then

amethyst, I think, an ornament in the house - quirky beautiful imo

LAST ONE:

Diary – dissatisfaction

 

My diary entries are never good.  I don’t write diaries when I’m in a good mood. 

I am sort of bored, sort of ill, sort of pissed off and sick of not being me.  This thing that doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say much, doesn’t care for much of anything, except when she does, and then it hurts, this person, she is me, but she isn’t. 

I’m under the surface.  I worry that if the image of what one was remains under the surface for too long, they no longer are that person.  This might sound confused, but it’s not confused in my mind.  I am clear that I prefer elements of the person I was, but that the longer that person is obscured, by sickness, by chronic..whatever, the less chance there is of retrieving the image from before.

I plaster over the cracks in my personality and it’s mostly more comfortable to remain numb and not think too much.  But I can’t get away from the truth that is pounding at my door: I am deeply unfulfilled and, more scarily, I don’t exactly know how to change that.  I know how to ignore it, cover it up for a while, but that wears thinner with every application.

I’m back, sunned but not tanned

 

Well, it’s been a little while since I wrote.  I had a few days abroad soaking up some Mediterranean sun.  I have been back a few days but have been knackered so have barely done anything.

The first question I usually get asked is “Did you enjoy yourself, then?” or “Was it good?”  Perfectly good questions that I’m sure I’d also ask.  It’s difficult though…

I went with two girl pals who are, naturally, more energetic than I.  In some ways I missed out due to my CFS fatigue.  I didn’t really do much sightseeing because I wasn’t there for long enough to gather the energy for it.  But, if I leave those obvious limitations aside, then yes, I did enjoy it.

It was nice to have a break in a tranquil, beautiful environment.  It was also a good time to go as it’s not quite HOT HOT HOT yet.  It’s just HOT hot.  In terms I can understand – Nando’s – it was peri-peri hot, not peri-peri extra hot (or whatever their most hot sauce is).

I’ll come back to blogging when I’ve had a bit more of a rest, but just wanted to get the ball rolling.

Just for a change, if anyone reads this post, how about telling me your current mood and why?