Safe Deposit

'What does "white tie" mean?' asks a French lady in a recent Mrs Moneypenny column in the FT.
'It means you'll need to get the tiara out of the bank,' explains her English husband.
Just now, I am impressed they managed to get anything into the bank in the first place. I have spent the entire morning calling on quite possibly every branch of every bank between the Strand and the Royal Exchange, and not a single one is willing to offer me a safekeeping service.

'We're not a clearing bank,' says my branch manager for the second time this morning, as if that were an explanation.
'But everyone else seems to be able to offer the service to their existing customers,' I argue.
'Well I'm sorry, we can't. We don't have any vaults, and we're not insured to put customers' belongings in the safe.'
'There are others who would quite happily offer me the service if I bank with them,' I retort.
'Yes, well, you could always try Coutts just up the road,' she says, managing not to sound too patronising.

The avuncular chap at the old Midlands Bank headquarters in Poultry is more helpful, but even he can do nothing for me. We are standing next to the entrance to the vaults, and the subterranean warren of safes is everything I imagine a safe-deposit facility to be. The charges, however, are eye-wateringly high, and they're not accepting any new business until after the move.
'I'm sure I could do something for you if you were to come back in July. Right now, though, we're trying to transfer this lot over to our other branches, and there aren't that many which still have vaults.' The premises have the musty, imposing air of an old and trusted institution, and I feel a twinge of regret that they are moving out.

And my bank is now a trendy wine bar, I recall ruefully from the old ad.