We can notch up several victories on the umbrella sector's bedpost. And by we I mean me. Today the Department of Health conceded some tricky technical point on the consolidation of umbrellas donated to NHS charities with NHS Trust surgical gamps. I didn't understand a word of this and should have left it to bodies such as the Canopy Finance Directors' Group (currently in a state of "Alfredo Garcia" - no head) and the Umbrella Commission to tackle. But as I have pointed out before there is no harm in SHOUTING loudly about an issue you know sod all about even if it hasn't got anything directly to do with the majority of your members and hoping that when the dust settles you can claim some if not all of the credit for it getting sorted.
We have also managed to piggyback credit for correcting some nonsense about parasols having exempt brolly status - you're either an umbrella or you're not -and have forced the minster with responsibility for the National Umbrella Lottery to resign - the curse of BUBB as some people call it. Not so much a curse, more a strongly worded letter with thinly veiled threats.
But before I get carried away I have to mention tax relief on umbrellas purchased as gifts. I was right not to go to the meeting last week as I would probably have been really unprofessional and shouted at someone. It is a disgrace that the Treasury are trying to hold to as much cash as possible during these affluent times. They may as well have never bothered extending the scheme to the great benefit of the umbrella sector a few years ago if they're now going to try and avoid handing over great wodges of cash without us having to earn them.
I could write all sorts of inappropriate analogies about this being just the same as me going into church and robbing the poor box (it isn't, theft is illegal...and anyway, no one found out). I could even finally succumb to using heart string emotional blackmail imagery around Haiti to make my point. I hope that the minister concerned, Leon Pissonthepoor, is ashamed of himself for making me stoop so low as to use the sufferings of millions to flavour my hissy fits and arguments.