Peter Rhodes on insurance traps, a premium-bond surprise and how old folk become invisible

TWO years ago my car-insurance premium was just over £300. The renewal notice has just arrived and they want £495. That's a rise of more than 30 per cent per year. I drive less than 7,000 miles a year in a cheap, sensible car with no speeding tickets or licence points and a 10-year no claims bonus. So why are they hammering me? Because they think they can.

THE Financial Conduct Authority is investigating the alleged milking of loyal customers by insurance companies. and I bet they uncover all sorts of nastiness. In the meantime I shopped around and got the cover I wanted, not at £495 but at £229.

HERE'S a thought. If we can buy insurance against car thieves, burglars and careless drivers, why can't we buy insurance against insurers?

SOME years ago I met one of the leaders of the Mujahideen fighting the Russian invaders of Afghanistan. Walid shook hands warmly with me, my wife and several of our friends. But when I introduced him to my father he did not shake hands. Instead, Walid stepped back, placed his right hand over his heart and bowed. He was making the point that the old are to be revered and that it was a special honour for him to be introduced to my father. The Old Man was chuffed.

THAT little brush with Islam shapes two of my views today. The first is disdain for those politicians, here and in Europe, who would force Muslims to shake hands, in the Western manner, with everyone they meet. There are all sorts of ways of saying hello and the best is the one that comes from the heart.

THE second echo from that introduction is how the status of the elderly has diminished. There was a time when young people needed old people because the folk with grey hair possessed much wisdom. Old people were also rare. These days, the world is swarming with pensioners and the kids have rumbled that you can discover more knowledge on Google in five minutes than the average pensioner has accumulated in a lifetime. We are becoming longer-lived but also less useful, less valued. Worse, we are becoming invisible.

IT'S just happened to me for the first time. I recently spent ten minutes discussing a training course with the twentysomething organiser. Three days later I dropped in at his office to finalise the details. I recognised him but he could barely remember me. He may just have a bad memory but other old 'uns tell me this sort of thing happens all the time. It is as though you reach 60 and, having turned grey, become invisible. And I suspect it's worse for women.

ONE evening last week we discussed selling my Premium Bonds which had produced damn-all for ages. Over the next two days four £25 wins arrived. How do they know?