Bastards....
Cheque scam doesn't Measure up for Bill
By Charlie Stong
A MAN found himself almost £3,000 down after his cheque book was lost in the post.
Bill Measure, of Richmond Road, Leytonstone, called in to his local branch of Nat-West in Leytonstone last week and tried to draw £100 in cash from his account. He was horrified when he was told that his account was £2,000 overdrawn £1,400 over his limit.
Mr Measure said he believed he had £350 left in his account.
When staff checked the details of recent withdrawals from the account, they found that two cheques had been ripped from his book and both signed away for £1,350.
The bank insisted that the cheque book had been sent out intact and, it seems, the cheque book became lost in the post.
Mr Measure said: "I was shocked. To be honest, I'm one of these boring people who never let their account get overdrawn, but I have a £600 limit just in case. When I couldn't take any money out I was totally confused.
"I haven't usually had any problems in the past with the Post Office and the staff and my Nat-West branch is always very friendly but this time I feel totally let down by the Post Office and by the bank for allowing this to happen."
Mr Measure's account was totally reimbursed by Nat West which apologised for the incident. The cheque book has now been cancelled.
However, Mr Measure's trust in the Post Office seems to have disappeared.
He is planning a trip to York for the Railway Bicentenial Celebrations with a friend.
He said: "I made sure I took my mate's ticket over to his house in Enfield myself. I would have sent it in the post but I have now lost all faith in the Post Office.
"I didn't want to be sitting next to some dodgy bloke on the train who'd bought a ticket from some shifty-eyed geezer in a pub."
The story follows umpteen others of people who have lost items in the post, including Mothers' Day cards, money and gifts.
Somehow, I feel like I am becoming a geezer. After my bike accident, I have used a cane. I feel like poking a young whipersnapper...
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Saturday, May 29, 2004
This is for all you non geezers out there. You want to identify us correctly....
Opinion
email this print this
Posted on Sat, May. 29, 2004
Codgers, geezers and coots
Whatever the old guys are, we hope they're having a good time fishing
JAMES J. KILPATRICK
Universal Press Syndicate
An inquiry came recently from a gentleman in cyberspace: "What is the difference between a codger, a geezer and a coot?"
Let us consult the authorities.
What is a codger? American Heritage says a codger is "a somewhat eccentric man, esp. an old one." Merriam-Webster says a codger is "an often mildly eccentric and usu. elderly fellow." Oxford adds little: "a person, esp. an old or strange one." New World concurs and adds that "codger" is "a term used in good humor."
What about "geezer"? All the lexicographers agree that a geezer is an old person, odd, eccentric, always male.
Finally, a "coot" is not only a waterfowl of the genus Fulica, it is also "a foolish, eccentric or senile person" (American Heritage); "a harmless simple person" (Merriam-Webster); "a stupid person" (Oxford); "an amusing old fellow" (New World); and "an unconventional or unreasonably stubborn person" (Encarta).
What distinguishes a codger from a geezer? Or vice versa? Let us examine what the terms have in common. We know that codgers, geezers and coots are all "old" males. How old? Patience! Geezerdom begins at 62 if the fellow habitually goes fishing on Saturdays. Codgerdom seldom arrives sooner than 73 years and six months. "Cootdom" is less precise. One cannot be a coot before 67 in Boston, or before 69 in Sarasota and Palm Beach.
Encarta and the Oxford American Dictionary have it wrong in defining a coot as "stupid" or "unreasonably stubborn." Coots are surprisingly well-informed on some matters, especially Republican politics, and only reasonably stubborn.
Is it redundant to speak of an old codger, an old geezer or an old coot? Yes and no.
The three gentlemen are "old." But two species or reduncancies inhabit this universe: malignant and benign. Many Redundancies Malignant are well known. The worst probably is "free gift." Equally irksome are "drowned to death," "past history," and "very unique." There was a time when purists roundly condemned "small hamlet" and "nape of the neck." I have roundly condemned them myself. Geezerdom intrudes.
Scores of redundancies now strike me as benign. An extra syllable may smooth the cadence, an extra word contribute to clarity. Not all know that hamlets are small. Many think of hamlets as melancholy Danes.
Let us go in peace.
Opinion
email this print this
Posted on Sat, May. 29, 2004
Codgers, geezers and coots
Whatever the old guys are, we hope they're having a good time fishing
JAMES J. KILPATRICK
Universal Press Syndicate
An inquiry came recently from a gentleman in cyberspace: "What is the difference between a codger, a geezer and a coot?"
Let us consult the authorities.
What is a codger? American Heritage says a codger is "a somewhat eccentric man, esp. an old one." Merriam-Webster says a codger is "an often mildly eccentric and usu. elderly fellow." Oxford adds little: "a person, esp. an old or strange one." New World concurs and adds that "codger" is "a term used in good humor."
What about "geezer"? All the lexicographers agree that a geezer is an old person, odd, eccentric, always male.
Finally, a "coot" is not only a waterfowl of the genus Fulica, it is also "a foolish, eccentric or senile person" (American Heritage); "a harmless simple person" (Merriam-Webster); "a stupid person" (Oxford); "an amusing old fellow" (New World); and "an unconventional or unreasonably stubborn person" (Encarta).
What distinguishes a codger from a geezer? Or vice versa? Let us examine what the terms have in common. We know that codgers, geezers and coots are all "old" males. How old? Patience! Geezerdom begins at 62 if the fellow habitually goes fishing on Saturdays. Codgerdom seldom arrives sooner than 73 years and six months. "Cootdom" is less precise. One cannot be a coot before 67 in Boston, or before 69 in Sarasota and Palm Beach.
Encarta and the Oxford American Dictionary have it wrong in defining a coot as "stupid" or "unreasonably stubborn." Coots are surprisingly well-informed on some matters, especially Republican politics, and only reasonably stubborn.
Is it redundant to speak of an old codger, an old geezer or an old coot? Yes and no.
The three gentlemen are "old." But two species or reduncancies inhabit this universe: malignant and benign. Many Redundancies Malignant are well known. The worst probably is "free gift." Equally irksome are "drowned to death," "past history," and "very unique." There was a time when purists roundly condemned "small hamlet" and "nape of the neck." I have roundly condemned them myself. Geezerdom intrudes.
Scores of redundancies now strike me as benign. An extra syllable may smooth the cadence, an extra word contribute to clarity. Not all know that hamlets are small. Many think of hamlets as melancholy Danes.
Let us go in peace.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
At 83, they aught to let this geezer live wherever he wants!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Posted on Thu, May. 27, 2004
A painful downsizing
Nanticoke's Bicycle Willy being forced out of home
By JON FOX
jfox@leader.net
NANTICOKE - Most people just know him as Bicycle Willy.
There's little mystery in the nickname; for as long as many can remember, William Vincent has pedaled his bike through the city's streets.
"I always ride the bike. I never drive a car," he said, sitting in a rocking chair outside his apartment on Apollo Circle, a Nanticoke Housing Authority complex he's lived in for more than 30 years.
Getting up, he carried a pair of small statuary angels from his apartment and put them in the basket on his red, single-speed cruiser.
Vincent, 83, is in the midst of paring down three decades worth of stuff, preparing for a mandatory move to a smaller apartment in Oplinger Towers, a high rise owned by the housing authority.
Vincent has just 60 days to clean out a two-bedroom apartment crammed with radios, TVs, photographs and whatever else he's added to his collection.
A single man in an apartment designed for families, Vincent is being relocated to a one-bedroom apartment by the housing authority.
"Anybody with no children and two and a half rooms, they have to go," he said. "I just can't help it. I wish I could sue the buggers, but there's nothing I can do."
It's not the distance of the move - his new digs are only about six blocks away - but the smaller space on the sixth floor that's tough to take.
"I don't like it," he said. "It's like a jail house. There's a bunch of people in there."
Living alone since his mother died in 1975, Vincent has accumulated enough bicycles, lawn mowers, photographs and clothing to jam most of his home and an outdoor shed he calls his "shanty."
"I got two and a half rooms loaded," he said.
At one point he owned 200 bicycles, a collection that's been thinned to about 14. He's not entirely sure of the precise number.
"I couldn't find the right kind of bicycle so I just kept buying them," he said.
William Michael Vincent, 57, Bicycle Willy's nephew and only living relative nearby, is helping his uncle winnow down his possessions.
Bicycle Willy's collection contains a little bit of everything, but is mostly comprised of Willy's two passions.
"All his life he liked grass cutters and bicycles," his nephew said. "His life was riding a bicycle and his life was cutting grass."
Getting up abruptly, Vincent walked back into his house, then returned with a special hat.
"I got my picture on a hat from Atlantic City," he said. "I only go down there for french fries and soda. I don't spend a lot of money, but when I see something good I buy it."
The hat is emblazoned with the seal of the City of Nanticoke. Pinned to one side is a round button that is a picture of Vincent wearing the same hat on his head.
Sort of a hat within a hat.
He settled back into the rocking chair and put the cap on. The hat's OK, it's going with him.
"I got a lot of junk in the shanty I've got to get rid of," he said. "I've got pictures on the walls for memories and I got to take 'em down."
William Michael Vincent says his uncle has always been a "pack rat."
"Everything was not one but two, you had to have two to make a pair. If you were to give him one ink pen he'd want two."
The move may sting, but Vincent's nephew thinks it'll be good for his uncle to be downtown and around people closer to his age.
"He wanted to stay there until he died, but I said to him 'Willy, nothing's permanent.'"
The process of getting rid of what most people would think is junk has been hard for his uncle. Even seemingly trivial items carry sentimental freight.
"He calls them his memories and it's hard for him to break away from that stuff," William Michael Vincent said.
Housing authority officials declined to discuss Vincent's case, but said a recent Department of Housing and Urban Development audit found many tenants were living in apartments with space that exceeded their needs.
HUD regulations and housing authority lease agreements mandate that tenants be "appropriately housed," authority lawyer Vito Deluca said. As many as a dozen residents are being relocated.
Inside American Legion Post 350, a group of veterans hunkered down around the horseshoe-shaped bar, glancing up occasionally at a horror movie on the bar TV.
Vincent, a regular visitor, had just made an appearance about 20 minutes ago.
"Oh everybody knows him," said bartender Thelma Chernowski.
"We all call him Bicycle Willy," said John Karpinski from behind his beer.
"He likes to pedal his ass all around town," another patron chimed in.
"Eighty-three and strong as a bull," Karpinski added.
Almost mid-comment, Willy strode into the barroom in a black satin jacket, another Atlantic City acquisition. Paying no attention to the afternoon crowd, he walked toward a back room.
Chernowski, who had heard about the forced move, thinks the relocation won't be good for Willy.
"He's not going to last long down there," she said.
Sitting on the Legion stoop, Willy sipped a Pepsi. His bike was parked at the curb, a sepia-toned picture of his nephew as a young boy rested in the basket.
"You put in the paper what they're doing to me in 2004. They're throwing me out," he said.
Jon Fox, a Times Leader staff writer, may be reached at 829-7219.
TIMES LEADER STAFF PHOTO/CLARK VAN ORDEN
Bicycle Willy, 83, has 60 days to clean out an apartment full of 30 years of memories for a move to a downtown housing authority high rise. "I might be here in 2005 by the time I get everything cleaned up," he said.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Posted on Thu, May. 27, 2004
A painful downsizing
Nanticoke's Bicycle Willy being forced out of home
By JON FOX
jfox@leader.net
NANTICOKE - Most people just know him as Bicycle Willy.
There's little mystery in the nickname; for as long as many can remember, William Vincent has pedaled his bike through the city's streets.
"I always ride the bike. I never drive a car," he said, sitting in a rocking chair outside his apartment on Apollo Circle, a Nanticoke Housing Authority complex he's lived in for more than 30 years.
Getting up, he carried a pair of small statuary angels from his apartment and put them in the basket on his red, single-speed cruiser.
Vincent, 83, is in the midst of paring down three decades worth of stuff, preparing for a mandatory move to a smaller apartment in Oplinger Towers, a high rise owned by the housing authority.
Vincent has just 60 days to clean out a two-bedroom apartment crammed with radios, TVs, photographs and whatever else he's added to his collection.
A single man in an apartment designed for families, Vincent is being relocated to a one-bedroom apartment by the housing authority.
"Anybody with no children and two and a half rooms, they have to go," he said. "I just can't help it. I wish I could sue the buggers, but there's nothing I can do."
It's not the distance of the move - his new digs are only about six blocks away - but the smaller space on the sixth floor that's tough to take.
"I don't like it," he said. "It's like a jail house. There's a bunch of people in there."
Living alone since his mother died in 1975, Vincent has accumulated enough bicycles, lawn mowers, photographs and clothing to jam most of his home and an outdoor shed he calls his "shanty."
"I got two and a half rooms loaded," he said.
At one point he owned 200 bicycles, a collection that's been thinned to about 14. He's not entirely sure of the precise number.
"I couldn't find the right kind of bicycle so I just kept buying them," he said.
William Michael Vincent, 57, Bicycle Willy's nephew and only living relative nearby, is helping his uncle winnow down his possessions.
Bicycle Willy's collection contains a little bit of everything, but is mostly comprised of Willy's two passions.
"All his life he liked grass cutters and bicycles," his nephew said. "His life was riding a bicycle and his life was cutting grass."
Getting up abruptly, Vincent walked back into his house, then returned with a special hat.
"I got my picture on a hat from Atlantic City," he said. "I only go down there for french fries and soda. I don't spend a lot of money, but when I see something good I buy it."
The hat is emblazoned with the seal of the City of Nanticoke. Pinned to one side is a round button that is a picture of Vincent wearing the same hat on his head.
Sort of a hat within a hat.
He settled back into the rocking chair and put the cap on. The hat's OK, it's going with him.
"I got a lot of junk in the shanty I've got to get rid of," he said. "I've got pictures on the walls for memories and I got to take 'em down."
William Michael Vincent says his uncle has always been a "pack rat."
"Everything was not one but two, you had to have two to make a pair. If you were to give him one ink pen he'd want two."
The move may sting, but Vincent's nephew thinks it'll be good for his uncle to be downtown and around people closer to his age.
"He wanted to stay there until he died, but I said to him 'Willy, nothing's permanent.'"
The process of getting rid of what most people would think is junk has been hard for his uncle. Even seemingly trivial items carry sentimental freight.
"He calls them his memories and it's hard for him to break away from that stuff," William Michael Vincent said.
Housing authority officials declined to discuss Vincent's case, but said a recent Department of Housing and Urban Development audit found many tenants were living in apartments with space that exceeded their needs.
HUD regulations and housing authority lease agreements mandate that tenants be "appropriately housed," authority lawyer Vito Deluca said. As many as a dozen residents are being relocated.
Inside American Legion Post 350, a group of veterans hunkered down around the horseshoe-shaped bar, glancing up occasionally at a horror movie on the bar TV.
Vincent, a regular visitor, had just made an appearance about 20 minutes ago.
"Oh everybody knows him," said bartender Thelma Chernowski.
"We all call him Bicycle Willy," said John Karpinski from behind his beer.
"He likes to pedal his ass all around town," another patron chimed in.
"Eighty-three and strong as a bull," Karpinski added.
Almost mid-comment, Willy strode into the barroom in a black satin jacket, another Atlantic City acquisition. Paying no attention to the afternoon crowd, he walked toward a back room.
Chernowski, who had heard about the forced move, thinks the relocation won't be good for Willy.
"He's not going to last long down there," she said.
Sitting on the Legion stoop, Willy sipped a Pepsi. His bike was parked at the curb, a sepia-toned picture of his nephew as a young boy rested in the basket.
"You put in the paper what they're doing to me in 2004. They're throwing me out," he said.
Jon Fox, a Times Leader staff writer, may be reached at 829-7219.
TIMES LEADER STAFF PHOTO/CLARK VAN ORDEN
Bicycle Willy, 83, has 60 days to clean out an apartment full of 30 years of memories for a move to a downtown housing authority high rise. "I might be here in 2005 by the time I get everything cleaned up," he said.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)