Anyway, I am telling you this because I thought it would be a simple affair. Even the thwarting of my cunning plan to transfer the money straight across from my internet account wasn't enough to deter me. Ok, so I have to transfer it from the first account to a different account and then use the debit card linked to that account to pay the money in. No problem, I can do that.
But then I had to chose a password. And not just any password, oh no, this one had to be between six and eight characters long and include at least one capital letter, one small letter, one number and one symbol. Basically I had to think up some kind of code that I'm never going to remember unless I write it down somewhere, which of course you're not supposed to do because then people break into your house and steal your stuff and find the passwords that you've kept well documented in your password notebook and use them to steal all your money and post dirty pictures on your facebook account.
Next I had to give the answer to five security questions that they may need to ask me if they ever want to check that I am who I say I am. Questions like "What is your eldest child's birthday?" and "What is the name of the first street you lived on, not including your parents' house?" You know, questions designed to make you feel like a failure for being 26, unmarried and still living in the same house you grew up in. Of course you could choose from a selection of other questions but a lot of them rely on things that not all people have, such as a university degree, siblings or the knowledge of where their mother was born.
But that's not the really ridiculous part. No, the really ridiculous part is that after that I had to select a picture that will always show up every time I log in to reassure me that I'm on the real website (assuming that I can remember which picture I chose, of course) and I had to write a phrase that would also show up every time I logged in, so I would know I was really on the real site. I don't think "This is bollocks" was quite what they were thinking of, but whatever.
Finally, after about a million pages of things to fill in, I got to the part where I... will be sent a form in the next 14 days to sign and return and maybe after that they'll let me have an ISA if I'm really good and pick out more pretty pictures and answer questions about my favourite secondary school teacher's first name.
Saving is hard.