Paperchase

The Norsemen who settled the northwest of France, the Normans, conquered England in 1066. They then did four things. Photography being less popular than needlepoint in those days, they had a team to construct the Bayeux tapestry to commemorate their victory, they built lots of churches because clearly the pre-existing ones weren't up to snuff, they taught us to speak French -probably accounts for why we are so resistant to it now - and they catalogued everything. Yep, everything, every sheep, person, penny and stone. In 1086 they published the Domesday book. In short, they started our long training in bureaucracy.
Kevin and I were once watching 'Most Haunted' and Yvette said about a building that it was in the Domesday book. We laughed,
'Of course! Everything's in the Domesday book, duh.' Then Kevin did a double take because he realised that what that actually meant was that the building they were investigating was older than 1086 - not something that struck me as odd, but to a Canadian, well, that's different sir.

My experience of bureacracy in Canada, although I'm sure my Canadian friends might have a different perspective on this, is that if you need to find something out, you can generally ring or go and see someone and they will listen to you so that you feel they actually ARE listening and then see if they can sort out the problem. In Britain, although I acknowledge this is changing slowly, to ring or face someone is to court a brick wall. They will listen to you in a way that suggests they are tapping their fingers with irritation and then they will formulate an answer designed to get rid of you in the shortest time possible.
One good outcome of this is that we are pretty efficient at getting rid of unwanted callers at the door and on the phone. Another outcome is that we prefer to deal with most things by paper.

I have a number of small paperwork loose ends to tie up and since all my post goes to Austen and Sue's address, while I was down there worshipping the baby Edward, I was able to go through it and deal with some of it. However one piece is holding out and has necessitated my premature return to Surrey. I need two medical forms which ex-husband is supposed to have. The surgery says he has them, he says they have never given them to him. I have already made two phone calls to the surgery and they are adamant. This is weighing very heavily on me and I am now at an impasse. The only way forward is to go back through pages of paperwork and construct my case which I will then write in letters of increasing levels of annoyance but starting with neutral, how can you help me ? tones. And to be honest, the logic of the thing tends to support X rather than the surgery. I decide to try to talk it through with him, see if any light can be shed on the matter.
So we are in his study, I am showing him the papers, explaining each step carefully and thoroughly, trying to jog his memory. The more we look at it, the more it really seems as though the surgery is at fault. We decide to look for a particular letter concerning these forms but he can't remember if he has thrown it away or not.
Enter Ben, my youngest. Now X is dark-haired, slim, Mediterranean skin tone. Ben is six-foot plus, strongly built, fair haired, he looks as though he should be wearing a Viking helmet and wielding an axe. In fact he is wearing a T-shirt that says in both Punjabi and English, 'Proud to be Pakistani'. He says what he thinks at all times. I explain the problem to him. He then sets about solving it as any Viking would, by bulldozing everything in his path. He has a way of jocular bullying that has frequently landed him in trouble at school. I reprimand him over the way he speaks to his father, but he just goes straight ahead anyway.
'Don't bullshit me,' he tells him, 'if you know you've thrown it away, tell us and we won't waste our time.' X still isn't sure. Ben then demands access to everything and soon has X turning over every piece of paper. And then, miraculously, we find not the letter, but the actual medical forms. I guess sometimes Viking methods just work.

I'm still suffering from jetlag. I can't believe that I used to come back from Vancouver and go into work the next day. It was always a real challenge the first week, but it had to be done. Now I seem to be waking at 5.30 and tired beyond belief from late afternoon onwards. It always seems to be worse travelling towards Europe.

So, paperchase day today, although I plan some shopping with daughter Alex later, then travelling to my troubled sister in Norwich tomorrow - where there are as it happens, many Norman churches.