The two aren't connected, although there is something strangely appropriate about the blogs all being granted a forced make-over at the same time I enter my 4th decade... not that I've done much to them, just a different template and some better organised links... still, it makes it look like I'm better at web design than I really am...
Not a terrific update this time around, I'm afraid. I'm too tired and too busy to come up with anything overtly hyperbolic at the moment. I've found recently that I have less and less time to do any writing, which is beginning to bother me. I've always been a firm believer in doing at least a couple of paragraphs a day - it keeps the mind supple and the abilities at an acceptable level - but recently it's become hard to devote time and conciousness to it. I hope it will change in the near future... in the mean time have a look at the balloon pictures on the newly rustified Day of the Dave.
Oh yeah, and I'm now 30. Life and association with sitcom characters begins here apparently.
This came from Paul Wolinski. www.decayofthedave.blogspot.com. Isn't he a sweety?
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Letter to HSBC
This letter has been sent to Mark A Loker (Service Manager), Jim Large (General Manager UK Operations) and the Branch Manager HSBC Beeston.
Dear Sirs / Madam
Please find enclosed my original letter of complaint. I suggest you read it before continuing with this letter.
Before I go any further I wish to make it clear that I understand that the persons reading this letter are not directly responsible for the mistreatment I have received at the hands of HSBC. However, since the corporation is deemed, legally, to be a human being and you employees are the earthbound ambassadors I have no choice but to vent my frustrations at you directly. It’s not personal. I hope you understand this.
On the 12th July Mark A Loker sent me a reply to my initial letter promising a response to my complaints about the mismanagement of my account and what I thought were unfair bank charges. My original letter was not (repeat: NOT) concerned with the ongoing public debate about bank charges in general and was instead about a very specific incident. I have now waited over a month for my matter to be looked at and instead of the personal and detailed response I was expecting I received your standard letter (dated the 10th August) regarding the ongoing court case involving the OFT and the accusation of bank charge mishandlings. In this letter you state that no open complaints involving bank charges will be attended to until the general court case is settled.
The level of anger and frustration I feel at your response is so great that I am struggling to keep my language under control. It’s so great, in fact, that I am struggling not to immediately close down my account with HSBC and refuse to pay any loan payments or overdraft fees back just so I get a human, real response from you. Talking to HSBC is like shouting at a brick wall. Trying to raise a legitimate issue with you is akin to whispering at the bottom of a mountain and hoping, just hoping, that my voice may be lucky enough to be carried to the top. It never is. It never never never is. All I get for my troubles, for the ‘loyalty’ that you seem to crave so desperately, is the written equivalent of the middle finger – fobbing me off and letting my complaints drown amongst the voices of a million other dissatisfied customers.
My complaint was a simple one. I felt that you had unfairly managed my account and that there had been, somewhere along the line, either a human or computer error. All my complaint required was for one person – assumedly the manager of my branch to whom my letter was originally addressed – to assess the situation and make a decision. Easy. Really easy. I laid all the information out for you, I coherently described my situation and I respectfully asked for a swift response. Instead I got an empty letter promising to do something, a questionnaire asking about my loyalty to your organisation and now a letter which dismisses me with one fell swoop.
Is this how HSBC practices their business? Is this an example of being the Worlds Local BankTM? Is this how you hope to ensure my dedication to your corporation? If the answer is yes to any of those then you have severely misunderstood the needs of the banking public. All I ever wanted was to be treated like a human being (again, something you were very interested in finding out about in your beloved questionnaire) and have my complaint looked at by another human being who could make a decision. Instead I find myself wasting time writing to you AGAIN instead of the myriad of other things – IE my job – that I should be getting on with.
While I am sure it is wonderful being one of the worlds richest institutions, with your political connections, bottomless cash supply and army of lawyers, I assure that it is not so much fun on the receiving end. My issue was over a £150 bank charge – not exactly a lot of money to you but a quarter of a monthly wage to me – and instead of dealing with my complaint in an adult and responsible manner you have elected to simply throw me on a pile and forget about me for as long as possible. If you think I’m going to wait while you drag this through the courts – delaying, amending, correcting and filing for a couple of years and then hoping that I’ll forget about it then you are grossly mistaken.
(On a side note, I hadn’t planned on pursuing my bank charges from the last 5 years – but after this insulting example of mistreatment you can be damned sure that I’m going to do my best to get every penny you ever took back).
I shall end this letter with a plea. I want the three people who will receive it to look at the following paragraph very, very carefully and drag up as many memories of what it is like to be poor and pissed off as possible. I want you to forget that I am just another number, just another ranting annoyed customer and instead look into your hearts and empathise with what it is like to be trying so hard to make your way through life and be countered at every turn by a giant, unfeeling company.
LISTEN TO ME!!!!!!!!
I expect a response to this letter – either written or by a phone call – within the next ten days. Do not send another dismissive, meaningless reply full of empty promises and legal excuses. Instead, please try to actually deal with the issue before you and try, just try, to satisfy my complaint. It would be a first.
Yours with thanks
David Holloway
Dear Sirs / Madam
Please find enclosed my original letter of complaint. I suggest you read it before continuing with this letter.
Before I go any further I wish to make it clear that I understand that the persons reading this letter are not directly responsible for the mistreatment I have received at the hands of HSBC. However, since the corporation is deemed, legally, to be a human being and you employees are the earthbound ambassadors I have no choice but to vent my frustrations at you directly. It’s not personal. I hope you understand this.
On the 12th July Mark A Loker sent me a reply to my initial letter promising a response to my complaints about the mismanagement of my account and what I thought were unfair bank charges. My original letter was not (repeat: NOT) concerned with the ongoing public debate about bank charges in general and was instead about a very specific incident. I have now waited over a month for my matter to be looked at and instead of the personal and detailed response I was expecting I received your standard letter (dated the 10th August) regarding the ongoing court case involving the OFT and the accusation of bank charge mishandlings. In this letter you state that no open complaints involving bank charges will be attended to until the general court case is settled.
The level of anger and frustration I feel at your response is so great that I am struggling to keep my language under control. It’s so great, in fact, that I am struggling not to immediately close down my account with HSBC and refuse to pay any loan payments or overdraft fees back just so I get a human, real response from you. Talking to HSBC is like shouting at a brick wall. Trying to raise a legitimate issue with you is akin to whispering at the bottom of a mountain and hoping, just hoping, that my voice may be lucky enough to be carried to the top. It never is. It never never never is. All I get for my troubles, for the ‘loyalty’ that you seem to crave so desperately, is the written equivalent of the middle finger – fobbing me off and letting my complaints drown amongst the voices of a million other dissatisfied customers.
My complaint was a simple one. I felt that you had unfairly managed my account and that there had been, somewhere along the line, either a human or computer error. All my complaint required was for one person – assumedly the manager of my branch to whom my letter was originally addressed – to assess the situation and make a decision. Easy. Really easy. I laid all the information out for you, I coherently described my situation and I respectfully asked for a swift response. Instead I got an empty letter promising to do something, a questionnaire asking about my loyalty to your organisation and now a letter which dismisses me with one fell swoop.
Is this how HSBC practices their business? Is this an example of being the Worlds Local BankTM? Is this how you hope to ensure my dedication to your corporation? If the answer is yes to any of those then you have severely misunderstood the needs of the banking public. All I ever wanted was to be treated like a human being (again, something you were very interested in finding out about in your beloved questionnaire) and have my complaint looked at by another human being who could make a decision. Instead I find myself wasting time writing to you AGAIN instead of the myriad of other things – IE my job – that I should be getting on with.
While I am sure it is wonderful being one of the worlds richest institutions, with your political connections, bottomless cash supply and army of lawyers, I assure that it is not so much fun on the receiving end. My issue was over a £150 bank charge – not exactly a lot of money to you but a quarter of a monthly wage to me – and instead of dealing with my complaint in an adult and responsible manner you have elected to simply throw me on a pile and forget about me for as long as possible. If you think I’m going to wait while you drag this through the courts – delaying, amending, correcting and filing for a couple of years and then hoping that I’ll forget about it then you are grossly mistaken.
(On a side note, I hadn’t planned on pursuing my bank charges from the last 5 years – but after this insulting example of mistreatment you can be damned sure that I’m going to do my best to get every penny you ever took back).
I shall end this letter with a plea. I want the three people who will receive it to look at the following paragraph very, very carefully and drag up as many memories of what it is like to be poor and pissed off as possible. I want you to forget that I am just another number, just another ranting annoyed customer and instead look into your hearts and empathise with what it is like to be trying so hard to make your way through life and be countered at every turn by a giant, unfeeling company.
LISTEN TO ME!!!!!!!!
I expect a response to this letter – either written or by a phone call – within the next ten days. Do not send another dismissive, meaningless reply full of empty promises and legal excuses. Instead, please try to actually deal with the issue before you and try, just try, to satisfy my complaint. It would be a first.
Yours with thanks
David Holloway
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Ernest Goes Online
Been very absent from this blog recently. There's no great reason for it other than I have a new house with a girlfriend inside and plenty of work to be getting on with. Simple pleasures.
I do plan to come back here very soon indeed, I just need to learn to manouever my time better and be of a clearer head. Until then I'd like to share with you this collection of 'Ernest' DVD covers that officially constitutes the most pointless thing I have ever downloaded.
God bless the internet, and no place else.
I do plan to come back here very soon indeed, I just need to learn to manouever my time better and be of a clearer head. Until then I'd like to share with you this collection of 'Ernest' DVD covers that officially constitutes the most pointless thing I have ever downloaded.
God bless the internet, and no place else.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
There is No Smoking Whilst Reading This Blog
Smoking ban. Fair enough. I have no problem with that.
No smoking signs in places that were formally smoking places. I have no problem with that.
No smoking signs in places where people wouldn't consider smoking anyway. Slight overkill.
I mean, what gleefully gloating asshole goes around putting up signs in greengrocers and doctors surgerys informing the world that they can't smoke in there? No shit, Sherlock. Smokers may be stubborn creatures but they understand the do's and don'ts of their habit... everyone knows you don't smoke in a creche, but the cackling moral majority have still felt obliged to put warning signs up in every potential place; common sense be damned!
I imagine armies of concerned (read: bored) mothers doing the happy dance through town, liberally slapping up signs on every building and flicking V's at anybody who looks like they might have once smoked. "Can't smoke here, or here, or here, or here... ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaa!"
Like I say, I have no problem with the smoking ban - I think it's a good idea - but any impression that it is an understanding reached between the smoking and no smoking factions of modern society has been ruined by the fascistic enforcement of the ban. And this being England, the only way we know how to fascisticly enforce rules is by stickers. Lots and lots of stickers.
These people take the fun out of everything.
No smoking signs in places that were formally smoking places. I have no problem with that.
No smoking signs in places where people wouldn't consider smoking anyway. Slight overkill.
I mean, what gleefully gloating asshole goes around putting up signs in greengrocers and doctors surgerys informing the world that they can't smoke in there? No shit, Sherlock. Smokers may be stubborn creatures but they understand the do's and don'ts of their habit... everyone knows you don't smoke in a creche, but the cackling moral majority have still felt obliged to put warning signs up in every potential place; common sense be damned!
I imagine armies of concerned (read: bored) mothers doing the happy dance through town, liberally slapping up signs on every building and flicking V's at anybody who looks like they might have once smoked. "Can't smoke here, or here, or here, or here... ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaa!"
Like I say, I have no problem with the smoking ban - I think it's a good idea - but any impression that it is an understanding reached between the smoking and no smoking factions of modern society has been ruined by the fascistic enforcement of the ban. And this being England, the only way we know how to fascisticly enforce rules is by stickers. Lots and lots of stickers.
These people take the fun out of everything.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Photos
There's 3 new photosets on my photoblog Day of the Dave. Glastonbury, Hull and the sheltered view of the Sheffield rains.
Still haven't got an internet connection at home, but it's coming. BBQ at mine this Sat? Excellent.
Still haven't got an internet connection at home, but it's coming. BBQ at mine this Sat? Excellent.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Animal
I'm writing this from backstage at a Red Hot Chilli Peppers gig in Holland. And how was your day? A girl just walked the van in the most see-through top I've ever seen on someone in public. The air is thick with the smell of a well oiled machine, and weed. Behind me a white rapper is berating the crowd for playing football and not basketball. I think they're throwing sandwiches at him.
Earlier someone from the crowd stopped me and asked why I was wearing sunglasses when it was raining. I showed him my eyes. "I understand" he said and patted me on the back.
So I've been busy, quit bugging me. It's been a hectic few months... moved house again, making the big step into cohabitation with Isobel. It's bigger and better than I ever imagined it could be. To think I was worried and stressed about the decision, how foolish I was. All the time I was driving to Holland I was thinking why am I driving away from her?
I am now worried that I'm getting soppy. I'm also worried that my previous statements about the nature of relationships will come back to haunt me. I was wrong. There. I said it. Happy now?
So what's a great thing you can do whilst in the middle of moving house - an activity behind only divorce in the list of most stressful things to undertake. How about go on tour? I've done two tours since 65 last month - one with Brett Dennen and this current jaunt with Dirty Pretty Things - and I'm beginning to tire of it. It's a good way to earn some extra money, but damn does it take alot out of you... I mean, it's much more fun when you're an artists, but as a driver you just feel tired and put upon much of the time. Which is a shame as that's your job.
Yesterday we were mud soaked in Glastonbury. Since I was driving overnight to Holland I tried to get some shut-eye in the back of the van, which was attentively parked directly behind the Pyramid Stage. Did you watch Lily Allen? I was asleep pretty much right behind her... and when I woke the clothes horse herself was stood right by my window. I stuck my tongue out and although the glass was tainted, I thought she saw me.
I'm too old for this shit. I mean, I still love touring, and festivals and gigs, but I need to have hospitality now, and nice toilets, and a good bed at the end. I don't mind camping, but it needs to be a quiet field. I can't be doing with mud and shouting and no sleep anymore. Let this be a lesson, it happens to us all.
It's my birthday in September. I keep saying "I feel so thirty." Maybe that's got something to do with it.
Holy shit. 65daysofstatic are supporting the Cure in America. They're playing the Hollywood Bowl, and Madison Square Gardens. Fucking Madison Square Gardens. It's become very easy to be blase about their success now, as most things that are happening now are a natural progression and expected for a band in their position. But the fucking Cure? In the Hollywood Bowl? I don't think I could be more proud of them.
"Whose cock do I have to suck to get on that tour?"
Joe called me on Thursday and he told me about it. "It's a secret" he said "until it appears on the Cure website I won't believe it." So much for sneaky insider information, the next day I had several phone calls and texts telling me about it. And here was something I thought I could smugly mention in a few months time when it came out - "Oh that? Yeah, I've known about that for ages..."
This is a list of things I've learnt recently.
- There are no seasons anymore. Just weather.
- Americans actually have a highly developed understanding of sarcasm.
- British roads are staggering overcrowded.
- Saxondale is a dead on take of most roadies.
- Gary from Dirty Pretty Things is a lovely guy.
- Receiving a laminate that says 'Red Hot Chilli Peppers World Tour 2007 - Dave' can make a guy pretty happy.
Life's actually pretty good at the moment. I'm finally earning a liveable wage off Medlo, I have an awesome new house that I share with my best girl, work is plentiful and the result of our own efforts and I have a sideline that takes me to all manner of strange places across the world.
Told you I was feeling thirty.
Last week I had a great joke idea for a TV show - I wrote it down and sent it to two people, thinking they'd find it hilarious. No replies came for a few days, and then suddenly both got back to me. "Love it", they said, "we should do it." Hey. That's the Medlo way.
I've just finished reading Joe Eszterhas' autobiography 'Hollywood Animal.' It's amazing. This is my favourite line: "(there were times) when we didn't want our boys trick or treating at Kenny G's or Gary Busey's house."
Loved it.
Think I'm going to go and get another one of those salmon kebabs that they have in the hospitality tent. It's a hard life. See you back in the real one.
Earlier someone from the crowd stopped me and asked why I was wearing sunglasses when it was raining. I showed him my eyes. "I understand" he said and patted me on the back.
So I've been busy, quit bugging me. It's been a hectic few months... moved house again, making the big step into cohabitation with Isobel. It's bigger and better than I ever imagined it could be. To think I was worried and stressed about the decision, how foolish I was. All the time I was driving to Holland I was thinking why am I driving away from her?
I am now worried that I'm getting soppy. I'm also worried that my previous statements about the nature of relationships will come back to haunt me. I was wrong. There. I said it. Happy now?
So what's a great thing you can do whilst in the middle of moving house - an activity behind only divorce in the list of most stressful things to undertake. How about go on tour? I've done two tours since 65 last month - one with Brett Dennen and this current jaunt with Dirty Pretty Things - and I'm beginning to tire of it. It's a good way to earn some extra money, but damn does it take alot out of you... I mean, it's much more fun when you're an artists, but as a driver you just feel tired and put upon much of the time. Which is a shame as that's your job.
Yesterday we were mud soaked in Glastonbury. Since I was driving overnight to Holland I tried to get some shut-eye in the back of the van, which was attentively parked directly behind the Pyramid Stage. Did you watch Lily Allen? I was asleep pretty much right behind her... and when I woke the clothes horse herself was stood right by my window. I stuck my tongue out and although the glass was tainted, I thought she saw me.
I'm too old for this shit. I mean, I still love touring, and festivals and gigs, but I need to have hospitality now, and nice toilets, and a good bed at the end. I don't mind camping, but it needs to be a quiet field. I can't be doing with mud and shouting and no sleep anymore. Let this be a lesson, it happens to us all.
It's my birthday in September. I keep saying "I feel so thirty." Maybe that's got something to do with it.
Holy shit. 65daysofstatic are supporting the Cure in America. They're playing the Hollywood Bowl, and Madison Square Gardens. Fucking Madison Square Gardens. It's become very easy to be blase about their success now, as most things that are happening now are a natural progression and expected for a band in their position. But the fucking Cure? In the Hollywood Bowl? I don't think I could be more proud of them.
"Whose cock do I have to suck to get on that tour?"
Joe called me on Thursday and he told me about it. "It's a secret" he said "until it appears on the Cure website I won't believe it." So much for sneaky insider information, the next day I had several phone calls and texts telling me about it. And here was something I thought I could smugly mention in a few months time when it came out - "Oh that? Yeah, I've known about that for ages..."
This is a list of things I've learnt recently.
- There are no seasons anymore. Just weather.
- Americans actually have a highly developed understanding of sarcasm.
- British roads are staggering overcrowded.
- Saxondale is a dead on take of most roadies.
- Gary from Dirty Pretty Things is a lovely guy.
- Receiving a laminate that says 'Red Hot Chilli Peppers World Tour 2007 - Dave' can make a guy pretty happy.
Life's actually pretty good at the moment. I'm finally earning a liveable wage off Medlo, I have an awesome new house that I share with my best girl, work is plentiful and the result of our own efforts and I have a sideline that takes me to all manner of strange places across the world.
Told you I was feeling thirty.
Last week I had a great joke idea for a TV show - I wrote it down and sent it to two people, thinking they'd find it hilarious. No replies came for a few days, and then suddenly both got back to me. "Love it", they said, "we should do it." Hey. That's the Medlo way.
I've just finished reading Joe Eszterhas' autobiography 'Hollywood Animal.' It's amazing. This is my favourite line: "(there were times) when we didn't want our boys trick or treating at Kenny G's or Gary Busey's house."
Loved it.
Think I'm going to go and get another one of those salmon kebabs that they have in the hospitality tent. It's a hard life. See you back in the real one.
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