Robyn Anderson

There is no such thing as a simple world. I’ve spent the last 45 minutes trying to update my details to be told – not with that browser, install another one we like. Not only was my browser not to their liking, neither was the information I was wanting to update. If I post the information I have to have it certified – and not by just anyone either. The most accessible to me was my solicitor. More money to keep some gormless lackie happy.   My breaking point came when I was requested to remove my glasses for my web image to be confirmed – and I then couldn’t read the instructions! Does no-one think about these things? Of course not. They’re all 24 with perfect vision. I don’t care anymore. I am me. I woke up this morning as me and the angry, key punching person sitting here is just another version of me.  I shall now take a walk outside where the garden is still happily growing and  the air is calm and warm. When I come back inside I shall run the edited pages of “I am not Joe Donovan,” through my fingers and know that despite what the bank thinks, I am a real person and I have done real things in my real world today. If my lack of identity worries them that much they can give my money back.