It’s been a difficult day today. First, there was the fridge. We’d been grumbling for a few weeks that the door was reluctant to stay shut, though it did if we insisted. Yesterday, it really wouldn’t. I investigated and found a huge lump of ice, which had grown around two jars that had been touching the back of the fridge.
Yes indeed, I prefer a self-defrosting fridge, but the exact configuration of mostly fridge but a decent freezer compartment was only available in this model. And it’s usually fine but one does have to be careful not to leave something touching the back. Anyway, I simply took out the shelf and piled everything up, or put it in the other fridge overnight. This morning, I took some things through to Wink, put everything from the freezer part into the chest freezer and switched it off.
Though a nuisance, it explained a problem and I just left it while I opened the post. That raised my blood pressure and excited my ire. But the most annoying thing was the bank statement from Tim’s bank. I’d managed, not without difficulty, to get the phone number for the ‘bereavement team.’ I’d explained that I’d been told on the phone that the statement of what was in his accounts on the day of his death would also include his bank statements. It didn’t. Please could I have them for the past year, so I could make sure essential payments were covered?
Asked what dates, I went for 1st August 2020 to 24th September 2021, the latter being the date the account was frozen. I also asked for the same dates for his (same bank) credit card. The fucking moron, sorry, put in the wrong year. I got a bank statement for August and September 2021 and nothing about the credit card. I exploded. Not literally. Poor Wink had come through for coffee and she kindly listened to me rant. Then I went on to the helpline on the website – not expecting to need the phone number again, I hadn’t saved it in my contact list – and got a very unhelpful robot. I wasn’t patient. Eventually, on the third time of ticking the ‘no, this hasn’t helped’ box, I got a real person. So I was polite but explained I had specifically asked for a year and hadn’t got it and hadn’t got the credit card info either and she apologised; not that it was her fault.
Rose called in for lunch. I can’t cope with shops where the assistants know me, as yet, so I went to Jonny’s farm kiosk and bought cheese and bread. Baron Bigod, obvs. After lunch, I had a phone call from one of my lovely clients. Sadly, her husband died in March – it wasn’t unexpected and he was 93, but we had a long and sympathetic chat. She did ask how I was at one point and I told her about Tim – there was a silence and then she sort of blanked it. I didn’t mind. I gave her my best time. But I was tired afterwards and Rose was too and left soon afterwards.
I’ve got stuff from the solicitor to sort out. The easy part is my new will. it’s fine, apart from one name spelt incorrectly. But there was a load of stuff along with the probate stuff – sorry, can’t come up with actual vocabulary – that I’m going to have to get my head around. The Politically Exposed Persons check. What? I’m not sure if being a Member of a Multi-academy Trust counts. And the STEP (Society of Trust and Estate Practitioners) stuff was beyond me today. This either relates to me making a simple will leaving everything to my children or their heirs, or to me being the executor of my husband’s will, which is entirely straightforward. There’s no scope for being politically exposed or needing to relate to a Trust. But I have to read it all and understand it and that’s for another day.
I’ve also got another letter relating to Tim’s investment portfolio, which wants original documents. Everyone else has accepted scanned ones. i’ll write and ask. I’ve only got one copy of his will and our marriage certificate and I’d rather keep them about my person.
Anyway, the fridge didn’t take long, only an hour or so and the lump of ice simply slid off. Then I scooped out the ice from the freezer compartment and wiped the whole thing clean and dry. In the next few days, I’ll clean out the other (larder, frost-free) fridge and all will be lovely. There were no unpleasant, furry surprises because I’ve kept tabs on leftovers for a long time now. If sufficient, they are eaten. If there’s enough for one, it gets frozen for when Tim is away (this should be in the past tense, of course). If it’s not enough for that, it either gets composted or given to the chickens. If leftover vegetables, it gets made into stock or soup. There has been nearly zero food waste at the Zedery for years.