Craic On

My garden shed has been gently dissolving into the ground for some time now. In every cost there is an opportunity. Having sat down with the Right Hand Neighbour to consider our shed options, I settled on a modest affair just right to stuff old ironing boards in. Yvonne (not her real name) adjusted her head set because she was having a bit of trouble hearing what I was saying but we got there in the end. It was time to part with the long number on the front of my credit card. Yvonne instructed me to punch the number into my keypad. I said I’d rather tell her the number as I would find it tricky blah blah because blah blah.  The previously composed Yvonne exploded. “You cannot speak the number. It’s GDPR. It’s the law.” She was incandescent. “If you can’t see an exception…” “It’s the law’, she bellowed. “It’s illegal for you to tell me your card number.” She was very loud. “I am absolutely certain it’s not…” “And I’m telling you it is. You have to punch it in to your keypad,” she barked. I