One of those days

This happy-chappy is presently faced with returning to the slopes for more terror and muscle-twanning delight.
I am eschewing solo 'lone fox' operations in Austria mit Walter unt his Schloss Adler. Oh No.
this time I am travelling to France. I will be assured of a decent meal (if a little over-rich) with long queues and petulant service - such as we have become accustomed to a society benighted by socialism.

Still, the Snow is good, I have my fans with me to cheer me on and bask in my chaply munificence as I hold court nightly: champers in one hand, foie-gras nibble in the other - chest deep in an outdoor jacuzzi whilst i wonder if I will ever escape from such a hellish place.

It was seized with a bit of post holiday vim that i sought out my insurance documents. Should I break a nail, chip a tooth or worse - sprain something - I would want to be immediately airlifted by Chinook to a decent private hospital for convalescence and cunnilingus in a discrete private clinic nestling in the Chilterns.
Not for me spending 97 hours on a filth encrusted gurney in some garlic soaked sweat-pit of a breaks clinic - designed to cater for those of a more foetid continental persuasion.

However, I could not find my policy.

I regularly purge my life of many things and paperwork is one of them. It would seem that a recent iteration of removing scraps of prior life from current existence I had burned the policy document. It was no where to be seen. (Saying that - there is a good chance that Donna Da Lodga moved it in either a fit of pique or tidiness).

I recalled the underwriters and attempted to reach them. Some odd sounding address in town with an 'Axe' in it.
The girl was most helpful - but did ask some odd questions.

Particularly one which was to be the theme of the day:

'Good afternoon - I have lost all my policy information and paperwork, but I recall you may have set it up - can you help?'

'Have you got a policy in front of you?' Uh-oh...one of those calls.......

'No, I have lost all my paperwork and have no references.'

'Oh, have you got a policy number?'

'No, I have lost all my paperwork and have no references.'

'OK, have you got a broker or brokers cover note?'

'No, I have lost all my paperwork and have no references.' (Think it is going to sink in?)

'Ah, so you haven't got any reference information? What's your postcode - I could try a search'.

Ye gods.

Search produced nothing in my name - and she game me their Internet broker details to renew afresh. (I have particular insurance requirements as I tend to command vessels in international waters, things your £4.99 Tesco policy would seriously exclude)

'Can I not renew direct.?

'No sir, please use our broker...'

I braced myself for more fun on the phone.

'Good afternoon, ------ can I help you?' Uh oh. Sing song estuary English.

Repeat facts regarding paperwork. Grip desk in anticipation of more witless dialogue while I explaining I really don't have any details.

'Not a problem sir, post code and your name is all I need.......(clicky-typing noises) here you are sir - would you like me to email you a copy?'

My flabber was gasted.
It was like the re-worked parrot sketch at one of the secret policeman's balls - where Palin wrong foots the audience and Cleese by just giving him his money back and a gift voucher for the mrs..........

Still. Email is yet to get here. I may yet be looking forward to the joys of European Health care.



UPDATE: French healthcare is substantially better than ours. Go figure.