It is not that I have been procrastinating but my defence is that I have been immersed in the gothic world or should that be domain of Mrs Radcliffe.
I have left our heroine Emily and her Aunt‚ Madame Montoni in the power of the villain of the piece who is holding them in his castle with no ready means of escape. Monsieur Valancourt is with his army comrades and is unaware that Emily is being repressed and that Montoni’s intentions are less than honourable.
It is therefore with an element of regret that I have had to close the pages of this 18th century masterpiece but it is more by necessity than willingness to live in the real world.
We have been having trouble contacting our bank, it appears that everything in this 21st century has to be done through a call centre and the old-fashioned idea of speaking to your branch direct seems to be a thing of the past. Why is it that if call centres are peopled (politically correct terminology) that you have to select numbers on your phone on the instructions of a machine before ever hearing the dulcet tones of a homosappine stating that for training purposes this call my be recorded.
I am sure this is not an original rant as I can not be the only one in this enlightened age that has an aversion to automated services, canned music and call centres whither they are in a far continent or based in the homeland.
In the end the archaic concept of meeting face to face at the branch, although time-consuming did solve the problem and provided a certain amount of experience to return to the ghostly apparitions in the castle of Udolpho when returning to the enthralling pages of Mrs Ann Radcliffe.