Cheques

Cheques were a pain in the backside, weren't they? I think it was worse once debit cards came along and you'd be in a queue and then, to a muted chorus of barely suppressed groans, some Luddite at the front would pull out a cheque book, thereby adding another minute to your wait.

The only upside was that when my first wife and I were very skint, we could cash a cheque for fifty quid at Gateway in Kendal a couple of days before payday and by the time the cheque reached the bank, the cash would be there to cover it. (And we'd start the month fifty quid worse off.)

I can't remember the last time I wrote a cheque to be honest. I do know that the last people I regularly wrote cheques for were the kids' music teachers, who, as a demographic, seemed to have a particular aversion to bank transfers.

Even HMRC have lurched into the new century, with the 'make tax digital' campaign, meaning that they now take the VAT money straight out of our account. But WAIT! What's this? When you get a tax rebate, do they pop the money back into your account? Do they heck. They send you a cheque.

Once upon a time there were four different banks in Kirkby Lonsdale but now we are down to two. Fortunately, one of them is a NatWest, which is where my VAT rebate cheque needed to go. I did take a photo of the NatWest bank but it's nowhere near as grand as this, which is on the square and used to be the Lloyds bank.

When the bank sold it, I had a client who rented it for a while, so I still had the opportunity to see its splendid interior. These days it's a private residence, which must be rather nice.

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Reading: 'Mayflies' Andrew O'Hagan