“Ah… Postbank… is it a Dutch card?”
“Erm… yes, I am Dutch.”
“Nice. Which part of the Netherlands are you from?”

And so we exchanged some small talk a week ago, me and the bloke from Reading station’s ticket office. That was the last time I saw my credit card. I wonder whether it was the same person who shredded my card and wrote my name on the Shredded Credit Card List they keep at the station, following First Great Western’s official How And When To Destroy Customers’ Credit Cards procedure.

(It’s not so bad, actually, and it was a good reason to go to the bank in Exeter on Saturday to apply for a British credit card. So I had to go through the same boring procedure of giving them all my personal details, including my previous address, that I have been through so many times since we’ve moved to England. And each of these times, I regretted my last Dutch address being one in the unspellable Hellevoetsluis…)