A number of replies were received on the subject of teaching money in schools, and I'll run some of them next week. For now, I want to tell you about an experience I had this week, because it's appropriate in the holiday season and I suspect it's happened to many of us, at one time or another.

Having been in England for a while, I stopped over in Bermuda before heading off to New York City for a week. For one reason or another - entirely my own fault - I ran up the balance on my credit card to, and then beyond, the limit. I have never done such a thing before, but I did it this time in spades. I thus found myself in New York City with about $50 in cash and a busted credit card. In financial terms, this kind of behaviour is technically known as "very dumb".

I have mentioned before that two is the correct number of credit cards to own, and boy was I right. Having exhausted my Butterfield Bank credit card, I was able to check into the hotel with my American Express card and a red face when the Butterfield card was declined. I'm not sure if the Amex card is good for cash withdrawals - I suspect you need a cheque to pay for it, and Bermuda cheques don't go down well in the real world.

I could have stayed in the hotel all week and eaten from room service, but you don't go the Big Apple to sit in a hotel room, and I had a shopping list of considerable proportions.

I e-mailed Denise Penton, a Butterfield Bank employee who has only ever done wonderful financial things for me when the need arose. I can't sing her praises highly enough, and I was certain she would find a way to bail me out. Imagine how my heart sank when I discovered she was on vacation. Generally, I don't think people who can help me should ever be allowed to take vacations, but in Ms Penton's case, I make an exception.

A colleague of hers, Sarah Jordan, sprang into action and sent me the forms necessary to regularise my financial situation. I also wrote to a good friend at the bank, an efficient, charming and helpful fellow called Alex Werther, and asked him to help if he could. This was Monday night.

When I woke up on Tuesday morning, Ms Jordan and Mr. Werther, and a colleague of theirs, Lynne Holmes, had solved my problem. I won't go into how, because I don't want to tie the bank's hands in case you get into a jam and need a different kind of help, but I will say this: the problem was solved, without delay or question, and with great despatch. I couldn't be happier with Butterfield Bank if they'd paid me to tell you this, which they didn't.

Of all the organisations in the world, banks are often among the least popular. As much as anything, I suspect that's due to fear, because of the economic power they wield. But I want to tell you this. I have had bank accounts in England and the States, and not one of them was ever operated with a fraction of the understanding or efficiency applied to my Butterfield account. I expect the same is true of Bermuda's other three banks, and I mean them no disrespect, but, speaking as a man who was facing imminent jail time for fraud, or at the very least a seven-day fast in New York, I value my Butterfield people more highly than I can tell you.

All financial institutions, and most non-financial businesses, talk about customer service, but not all of them deliver. Butterfield does.

The lesson, of course, is to take great care with your spending. I usually do. In fact, I can't quite work out how I could have been as stupid as I was, but it had something to do with a feeling I get when I travel that, come what may, if I want it, I can have it, and I'll sort it all out when I get back to Bermuda. Clearly, that's wrong-headed and downright dim-witted, but it's the power of the little plastic card, and of having a job that means I can afford to go where I am sent and do what I am told.

I could claim old age and a senior moment, but there is no excuse for what I did. I just spent my brains out and only stopped when I'd spent all the money available. It was fun, I will admit, and if I were rich, I'd do it all the time. Instead, I will revert to my standard practice of knowing where I stand financially, and walking less frequently on the fiscal wild side.

I tell you all this not just to show you what a fool I am - mission accomplished - but as a cautionary tale. Don't let your spending get out of control. If I had run into this problem on last Thursday, for example, there'd have been no one at the bank to bail me out for four days.

Look after the pennies, they say, and never was a truer word spoken. But it was enormously heart-warming to know that, when I got into trouble, there were people at Butterfield Bank who would go out of their way to help. Thank you, oh thank you.