Silence is not always golden

At the time that I am starting this, it is Sunday evening and the house seems quite large. The reason is that Drew and Maggie have gone home, although it was made difficult for me by the fact that Maggie clearly didn't want to go. I think that it has to be the worst feeling in the world. I suspect that it will be written over a couple of days, so hopefully that feeling will have lessened by the time that this is finished.

The kids had arrived on Wednesday as it was half term, and I was pleased to see that Drew seemed to have fully recovered from the appendicectomy that he'd undergone two weeks previously. On Wednesday evening, m'Julie came up with the idea of visiting Greenwich on the following day. The reason for this is that at Greenwich there is the Royal Observatory, The Queen's House and the National Maritime Museum.

So it was that all five of us descended on Paddock Wood station for the trip up to Greenwich, which was slightly prolonged due to the inevitable problems on the railway, and we arrived in Greenwich at lunchtime. After a nice lunch in a French cafe, we made our way across Greenwich Park to our first stop, the Royal Observatory.

The first, and in fact I think the last time that I was at the Observatory was in 1976, when there had been an exhibition at the Maritime Museum commemorating the 200 years since America had gained independence. It had changed in the 33 years since my last visit.

The main exhibition area of the Royal Observatory is very interesting and we had the inevitable photo of us straddling the prime meridian.

Unfortunately, they were very strict about people not taking photographs inside the actual exhibition area which was a shame as there were so many historic and rare artefacts to be seen.

After the exhibition, we made our way to the only part of the whole 'Greenwich experience' that actually costs anything, the Peter Harrison Planetarium, where we were able to see what the sky should have looked like on Thursday night had there not been so much light pollution.

After the show we made our way back across Greenwich Park to the National Maritime Museum. One thing that I hadn't realised was that the site of the museum had once been the site of the Royal Hospital School, which is the inferior, Naval, equivalent of my old school, The Duke of York's Royal Military School, as well as being the old school of my friend Bruce. 

Unfortunately, we didn't actually get to the museum until nearly 1630, and as it closed at 1700, we had very limited time to look around. However, I'm sure that there will be another visit during the three weeks that the kids are staying over the summer holidays.

Friday was a relaxed day at home, the kids spending most of the day playing World of Warcraft (!), but m'Julie making plans for us all to go out on Saturday.

As the day dawned bright and sunny, the idea that m'Julie had been talking about on Friday was put into action and we headed to the South Coast metropolis that is Eastbourne, aka God's Waiting Room. Although this is not the nearest coast to us, the alternative, Hastings, is in my opinion, a complete cess-pool, hence the choice we made. 

We headed straight to the beach and the girls, who were already wearing their swimming costumes headed into the sea, which resulted in a loss, as Maggie decided that because it’s a stony beach she would wear her sandals. Unfortunately, a large wave sucked off one of them, and despite her best efforts to grab it, it was 'lost at sea'.

Drew also joined the girls, but as he hadn't taking his swimming costume, it was a case of rolling up his shorts and having a paddle.

After a quick meal and a visit to the pier, we all made our way back to the car and headed up to Beachy Head, which although it is so close, is the first time that I'd ever been there. After several attempts to get the video camera in still picture 'timer' mode, I was successful.

As well as being a well known beauty spot, it is also notorious as being a very popular suicide spot, to the extent that there are chaplaincy patrols along the cliffs. As I write this on Monday evening, there is a news report about two adults and a child whose bodies have been found 400 feet down Beachy Head.

Also in the above picture is Percy the Gnome, who was a present last year from H, and, now that he's been painted, is to be pictured in various places that we visit. m'Julie is even talking about his having his own Facebook page!

After all this fresh sea air, we were all feeling quite tired by the time we got home, which meant that for most of us, Sunday was another chill-out day before the kids left, although Hannah did have a dancing exam in the morning that she will find out the result of in a couple of weeks.

So, as I said at the start of this, the house is 'silent' again, so I can return to abusing politicians. The reason for this is that the 'special' person from the CSA with whom I had spoken, apparently called Kevin Maguire, called me back on Wednesday morning.

However, after a ten-minute conversation, rather than suggesting a solution, Kevin Maguire informed me that he 'couldn't make head nor tail' of my case and was having to request the case papers, which would take a further seven to ten working days to reach him. I was left wondering what this person had actually done since receiving my complaint, and was left to conclude what I already knew. Kevin Maguire had clearly done nothing.

Following this very unsatisfactory conversation and having had no response to my original letter, I decided to write to Purnell again to see if I could elicit a response from a second letter:

Dear Mr Purnell,

I wrote to you on 18 April 2009 regarding the incompetence that is rife within the Child Support Agency. To date I have received no reply, not even from your staff, although I am aware that your claiming staffing costs does not necessarily mean that you employ any staff.

Now that your behaviour re: expenses is in the public domain and you no longer have to spend time and effort in any attempts to cover this up, I trust that you will return to your Ministerial duties and look into my complaint and inform me of any action that you have either taken or ordered to be taken.

Yours sincerely

Not content with this, I also wrote to my local MP, Greg Clark, enclosing copies of my letters to both Purnell and the equally useless Mary Quinn. The reason for this is that when I previously had problems with the CSA in 2007, I involved Greg Clark.

Having had no luck from writing to the then Secretary of State, John Hutton, and the then CSA Chief Executive, Stephen Geraghty (another pair of oxygen thieves), I contacted Greg Clark, and within days had a solution.

Hopefully, the result will be the same, particularly as there is bound to be an election before long.