Living in the Real World

Politicians have to make decisions that affect the lives of others every day.  That's part of their job.  And sometimes such decisions will be unpopular.  But at the very least, those affected by the decisions have the right to expect that those making them will have some idea what they are doing.  Not so with cuts to disability benefits however.

Today in the Daily Mail we read how Mr Cameron is hiring a personal trainer to help him deal with stiff muscles and joints.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1394417/Keep-fit-Dave-calls-250-hour-physio-tummy-trim.html

This trainer is apparently costing our intrepid leader £250 per hour.  PER HOUR.  That's pretty close to the amount paid per month to someone claiming DLA at the highest rate for mobility (and you need more than stiff muscles and joints to qualify for that) and the lowest level of care.  Imagine.... one hour against a whole month.  Better still, take time to do some maths here.  If that trainer worked just 8 hours a day, five days a week for four weeks it would be £10,000!  Staggering stuff, eh?

Yet this government has presided over - and encouraged with all its 'government sources' leaks - the most shameful villification of the sick and disabled in living history.  Even though DLA is given to those who can work (as well as those who cannot) it is to be replaced by a personal independence payment.

Think about it.  Personal Independence Payment.  Well, it all depends what you mean by independence, really, doesn't it?  Because the sort of independence one can buy on £275 per month is quite different from the sort of independence you might expect for £250 per hour.

We're all in it together?  Live in the real world, Dave.

An update of sorts

I haven't blogged here in a while.  Partly because so much else has been going on.  Partly because I am feeling too rotten and just turning over in bed is all I can cope with.  But my brain is still active, rest assured of that. 

Anyway... to update on the shower.  They win.  I cannot keep it up any longer.  At one point I thought I had won, only to encounter workmen who believed I had concrete floors upstairs (any fool can see they're made of wood) and that it would be okay to saw through a few joists.  It won't .  Trust me.  I don't want to find one side of the house down in the garden.  

But I did have a win of sorts, with the DWP.  I finally won an  appeal for DLA that has been rumbling on for YEARS.  After several tribunals, I finally got what I wanted, which is great.  I wish I could say that I've been celebrating, but I haven't.  Because although I've 'won' in some respects, it isn't over....

Let me explain.  Firstly, the DWP now appear to have lost the entire appeal.  They have no record of my first claim, nor the appeals that followed,and they certainly have no record whatsoever of me winning anything.  So actually getting some back-pay is a long way off.

Also, I now have to tackle HMRC to get my tax credits amended for the appropriate period.  After all, if I was entitled to DLA for that period, I was also entitled to slightly higher tax credits.  But no.  The leviathon that is HMRC says it is only obliged to refund back to the start of the present financial year.  And my claim - thanks to inept tribunals and the idiots at the DWP rumbled on for years in spite of all the evidence. 

'Well,' I said, trying to sound reasonable, although in truth I was tearing my hair out, 'Surely there's something I can do?  I must be able to appeal?'
'Oh yes,' they said, 'but.... you might have to attend a tribunal.'
I took a deep breath and counted to ten.  'Fine,' I said.  'I'm used to those.  Put me down for a tribunal then.'