A tale of two insurance claims

At first sight they looked like the extras in Shaun of the Dead as they moved with exaggerated slowness and all in step with each other. If it had not been for one of the two disasters that beset us before Christmas we would probably never have set foot inside the Wild Stallion Country Music and Line Dance Club to watch a group of people performing intricate steps to the music of Ian Highland and the Twilight Band.

It was one of the good outcomes of the well-managed insurance claim. Here now is the tale of two insurance claims (not the most thrilling title, but remember that law is a calm vocation and it would not be good for me to give you too much excitement all at once).

On 24 October last year our guests banged on our window shouting that there was a fire. Next to our house we have a converted thatched barn. It is a long story but our house and land are in trust for a member of the family disabled by a medical accident, and the barn (until fairly recently derelict) was converted into a holiday cottage to buffer her from the fickle ways of the equity market.

We had dashed across to see what the problem was '“ half hoping that it was some kind of hoax. We found flames coming through the door of a built-in wardrobe in a downstairs bedroom.

No time to crank up our ancient fire engine. Seconds, not minutes, now counted if we were to stop the fire spreading to the thatch. My wife and I grabbed a fire extinguisher and plunged in through the acrid smoke and darkness (the lights were all out). We opened the door gingerly. The flames spat out at us. We reduced the flames to smouldering smoke, then shut the door, and joined the shivering huddle of our guests as we waited for the firemen who arrived in force a few minutes later and swarmed in with breathing apparatus, hoses, heat detecting camera, the lot.

It was a grim night. Our poor guests were homeless. One couple had lost their clothes and were traumatised by what did happen and, worse, what might have happened if the fire had broken out a few hours later when they were asleep.

The cause, it turns out, was a fault in an almost brand new electrical consumer unit which did the reverse of what it was supposed to do: caused rather than prevented a fire. In the days afterwards we discovered that the manufacturer of that unit had issued a product recall because of the risk of fire. We also discovered that the fire had tracked up inside the wall to within inches of the thatch '“ we had come very close to a real disaster.

No time to dwell on these things. There was a further disaster in the offing. At the approach of Christmas, the car went in for its MOT. Part of the testing involves revving up the engine and then taking measurements. Suddenly the car shot back into a pillar, almost ripping off the driver's door and causing several thousand pounds of damage, fortunately only bruising the mechanic who had an unexpected (if brief) reverse journey. It was of course only a car, but it was specially required for our disabled family member and we needed a similar car as a replacement. Enter Ian Highland, but not just yet.