When Storm Darragh hit Harlech on December 7th we were away, so I asked our trusty housekeeper Sarah to look round the house and report back on any damage.

It was a big relief when she told me that all seemed OK. One or two slates had blown off the roof and embedded themselves in the turf but otherwise everything seemed sound.

Immense relief. Winds of 93 mph had been recorded at Capel Curig, so we were apprehensive to say the least. If you’ve visited Murmur-y-Don you’ll know that it really should be called Murmur-y-Gwynt, the Whispering of the Wind, as the location makes any blow at Capel Curig look like a gentle zephyr. 93 mph at Capel Curig means over 100 mph at Murmur-y-Don, we reckon.

What I hadn’t taken into account is that Sarah isn’t quite as tall as I am. This meant she couldn’t see over the edge of the roof to the gaping hole in the north-west gable, where a patch of slates the size of a small car had been torn out by the wind. Now the house was very solidly built in 1907 so we’ve never managed to get round to replacing the original roof, made with slates from Yr Hen Chwarel Llanfair just up the road. A replacement cost would be in the region of £40,000, so it might have to wait a while.

The ceiling of the pink bedroom was shockingly stained by the rainwater pouring in after the storm. That was the first time we noticed it, when walking into the pink bedroom. By standing on a WorkMate halfway down the slope we could make out the gaping hole in the roof.

Luckily I’m insured with the Nationwide, and have been for thirty years without making a claim. So I called them first thing Monday morning. No problem, I thought.

WRONG! They are beyond useless. They sent a lad over from Sandbach, a hundred miles away in Cheshire, who arrived on Tuesday and reported that the hole was an emergency and needed to be fixed right away. Great, I said, please go ahead. Oh, I can’t do it, he said, I haven’t got the equipment needed. Get on to Nationwide and ask for their emergency service!

So I called Nationwide again and asked for their emergency service. They said a building surveyor would ring me. He rang at 6pm on Wednesday evening, and said he’d arrive the following morning.

To be fair, he did, but by this time it was Thursday morning and I still had a hole the size of a small car in my roof. He looked at it and sucked his teeth and asked how old the roof was. 117 years old, I proudly announced. This is an emergency, he muttered, and filled out a form. He told me to get in touch with the Nationwide and ask for the emergency service.

By now I was feeling so stressed my wife noticed, and gave me a hug. Luckily Gary our electrician was in the house mending a fuse and gave me the number of a couple of roofers. Von found some local scaffolders.

Still silence from Nationwide, but everyone we contacted turned up on Friday morning. By now the wind had got back up again, and it was too windy to put up any scaffolding and anyway they had their works Christmas outing at the golf club that afternoon. The roofer sucked his teeth (a lot of that goes on) and said it was impossible without scaffolding, especially in this wind.

Saturday dawned with a large hole in our roof. However the wind had dropped, so I rang the roofers again. As I looked out of the window a roofer walked past with a pile of slates on his shoulder. Another was carrying a couple of ladders.

They mended the hole! There’s lots more to be done, but at least we’re watertight. For the time being.

No thanks to Nationwide. Absolutely hopeless. I shall move my insurance elsewhere.

Our hopeless government is trying to contain the rampant betting industry which is clearly out of control. The measures they have announced are about what you’d expect from a bunch of time servers with pockets lavishly lined by lobbyists from the business they are supposed to be regulating.

It’s not just the Conservatives. It was Labour under Blair and Brown who allowed the bookies a free hand to do whatever they liked; open season on the vulnerable public. And my god have they taken advantage of that. The number of suicides caused by problem gambling is beyond tragic.

I’m not against gambling or betting per se. I am strongly against the relentless advertising, marketing, promotion and propaganda spewed out by the betting companies.

Back in 1966 I went into a bookmakers in Ebury Street, Westminster, to make a bet. ‘Good morning,’ I said, ‘I’d like to place ten shillings on Arkle, please.’

The bookie peered through his guichet. ‘Zis the first time you’ve been inna bookies, sonny?’

‘Er, yes.’

‘Well zen, listen to me. You gimme your ten bob to put on Arkle. Arkle is one of 24 horses running in this race. Anything could happen. He could fall over. The jockey could fall off. He might be feeling under the weather. There are 23 other horses in the race, all dying to beat him. But if all goes well, and Arkle beats all the other 23 horses and wins the race, you know what will happen?’

‘I’ll win my bet?’ I ventured.

‘Yur,’ growled the bookie. ‘And I’ll give you yer ten bob back, and yer winnings of — one shilling. That’s twelve pence. But if Arkle sneezes, or the jockey gets distracted, or someone else is faster, and ‘e doesn’t win the race, then I keep yer arf a nicker. All of it. Happy wiv that?’

I cleared my throat. ‘Errm … I think I’d rather have my money back, please.’

‘That’s right, sonny,’ he grinned, and slipped the note back over the counter.

I haven’t been into a bookies since. None of these modern betting conglomerates would have offered that sort of advice. They’d simply have taken my money.

My father was an Army padre for much of his working life. He had to deal with squaddies, who weren’t always the brightest of the bunch. And he said that of all the problems facing those young lads — drink, sex, drugs, gambling etc. — by far the most pernicious and hardest to eradicate was gambling. It destroyed so many lives.

But as long as the gambling kings keep our elected representatives wined and dined and royally entertained, nothing will change, and more lives will be ruined.

Not what I want.

Oh, and Arkle won the race by thirty lengths.

After UK2.net trashed this website without any warning, I am starting to rebuild it.
I posted a blog a few minutes ago to vent my rage at this company’s high-handedness.
It has already attracted three comments – one from a Russian site warning me that an asteroid is heading towards earth, one from a Russian gambling site and one from someone trying to sell me cryptocurrency. That’s a great idea.