Gill phoned this evening at about 5.30. She was on her way from Stansted with her step-daughters; by the time she reached the hospital, Andy was due too. I may have mentioned that she is PCC treasurer; the reason she phoned was, having been away a fortnight more than expected, she is concerned that the current account could be overdrawn or nearly empty, various regular standing orders having been paid out. Although I’m not on the PCC, I’m regularly available to sign forms and cheques, so I’m still a signatory. I’ve said that I’ll go in tomorrow, find out the situation and pay money across, either from the deposit account or, if they won’t let me do that without a second signature, from my own account. It’s typical of her that she is dealing with this sort of matter when she’s got far more important problems. She also remembered the rota, so I’ve explained that I’ve dealt with that already.
I didn’t ask a lot of questions, but she told me how she finally found someone to help her. Her brother in law is a political journalist, and has the private email of Gill and Andy’s MP. Gill wrote an email explaining the situation on Tuesday and, half an hour later, he was in touch to say that the insurance company and the hospital had agreed to alter their attitudes. Good for him to drop everything and deal with it at once, disgraceful that he had to intervene – and that they capitulated so quickly indicates that they were just being obstructive without sound reason. It wasn’t that the hospital didn’t have a bed, just that they didn’t want to guarantee it, I suppose, in view of the cold and icy weather.
Next week is filling up rather rapidly. I must start Christmas shopping sooner or later, I suppose. Although there’s plenty of time, still more than a fortnight to go. One doesn’t want to rush into these things. In fact, ‘start’ is misleading, isn’t it. I’ve already got Zerlina’s present, and Pugsley’s. Almost done, then.