Use of cookies. Mouse over here for details.

Use of cookies on this web site: Farkham Hall T/A Farkham Hall Stores collects no personally identifiable data in cookies. However, a number of social media and search engine companies place tracking cookies without our consent or co-operation. If you wish to avoid tracking, please read our cookies policy, where you will find links to resources that will help you set your browser accordingly.
Show Cookies Policy
Accept & Continue
Join Mailing List
Looking for something particular?

Farkham Hall - Selected Blog Item

Search my 'blog
Find word or phrase...
Find posts dated...
07/09/2011: Civil Servants. Civil? No! Servile? No! Misnamed? Probably!

One of the aspects of modern living that always taxes the Farkham bean in trying to understand it, is the attitude of those employed by the beloved government to serve us. The overall feeling in this group seems to be diametrically opposed to this however.

Take an example of my recent experiences while trying my hardest to obey the law. In recent times, the Royal Mail in our town has been reduced to camping out on the first floor of a national chain boghandel. OK, bookshop really, but since my very good friend Karnt (of whom, more tales later) told me that is what a bookshop is called in his native Denmark, it has stuck in the old noddle somewhat.

Anyway, in need of taxing the Farkham family jalopy recently, I toddled off to the aforementioned clutching the various bits of paperwork necessary for the task. Imagine my horror when I found the queue of people waiting to do the same thing amounted to some 16 souls. I made a tactical withdrawal to take care of a couple of other chores while waiting for the crowd to disperse. Imagine then, my even greater horror when I returned only to find that the length of the line had done the opposite and increased to 18. I would just have to wait...

After a while, the hatchet faced harridan behind the counter seemed to spot the fact that I was carrying the paperwork, and pointed to an empty counter some distance away while shouting "Road Tax, Far Queue". Well, that was more than any man could stand. Paying through the nose, is one thing, queueing up for ever to do so, a mere inconvenience, but that was the last straw. I replied in like tones and went on to explain a few cherished beliefs about the Post Office in general, and her attitude in particular.

Eventually a couple of heavies from the back room of stationery ushered me forcefully into the street, explaining that they didn't think I really wanted to tax my car anyway. I have been reduced to the ranks of the common law-breaker by sheer dint of not allowing myself to be spoken to in such a way. Justice£ I think not! I'm going to Farkham Hall!

See more news items in our blog.

Post a comment on this page.Click here to request Information on blog item 5
Share this story
Link to this story (copy/paste):
share us on facebook
share us on twitter
share us on pinterest
image link to send our link to a friend
get us to call you back