Your details, and what we do with them.

This website, and the service it sells, belong to Jolora Ltd, a company registered in England and Wales (number 11216943), at coWorkz, Minerva Avenue, Chester, CH1 4QL. “We” and “us” on this page means Jolora Ltd. It decides what is collected here and why, which is what data protection law calls the controller.

For any question about your details, or to ask for anything further down this page, email hello@jolora.co.uk or ring Joe on 01244 955 270.

This part is for anyone at a business that Jolora Ltd has got in touch with about these website packages without being asked, whether by email, by post or by phone.

If we’ve never dealt with you, we hold your business’s name and address, what it does, the name of a director or owner where that’s public, and an email address, a postal address or a phone number to reach it on. They come from Companies House, from the lists of business rates that councils publish, from the business’s own website, or from seeing the business about: a van, a sign, an advert. If somebody passed your name on, we’ll have said who. If we ever use a list from another supplier, it will be named here. Whichever it was, the email, letter or card you had from us says where we found you. We also keep a note of what we’ve sent you and when, and of whether you replied. With it go a line of our own about the business, and a few words on what you said if you replied.

If you’ve been a client of Jolora’s, or asked us about a website before, we’ve used what you gave us then: your name, your business, how to reach you and what we talked about.

We use them for one thing: to tell businesses that might want a website about these packages. In the law’s terms, that’s our legitimate interests.

These details are kept on the website’s own server, with everything else it holds: Who else sees your details says whose server that is, and where. Cards sent by post are printed and posted for us by Intelliprint, which is given the business’s name and address for that and nothing else. Apart from those two, and the services that carry our emails and phone calls, nobody else is given these details. An email to you is one Joe has written himself, to you alone. It goes from his own mailbox, and a copy stays there. A computer of ours sends it, not the website, and the same computer looks in that mailbox for answers. That computer keeps a note of its own that it has written to your address, for twelve months. The note is a scrambled mark worked out from the address, not the address itself. It’s how it knows not to write to an address twice inside six days, or more than twice in a year, and knows an answer when one comes. It tells the website about an email from you only if we had emailed you first: that you replied, when, the subject, the start of what you wrote, the address it was really sent from, and what our mailbox’s own checks made of it. That’s so that we don’t write again to somebody who has answered or said no, and can tell an email that’s really from you from one that only says it is. Of what you wrote, the website keeps the first few words. It keeps what those checks found as well, and the address the email came from if that isn’t the one we wrote to. If an email to you can’t be delivered, the website is told that too, and marks the address as one that doesn’t work. We don’t email it while it’s marked. The mark comes off if we find that the address works after all, or if we change the address we hold for you. Nothing from any other email in that mailbox goes to the website, apart from a note of any that couldn’t be read: when each arrived, and nothing more about them.

If you’d rather we didn’t, tell us, at hello@jolora.co.uk or on 01244 955 270, and we’ll stop straight away. It costs nothing, and you needn’t give a reason. Your business is taken off our lists as soon as we’re told, and we keep just enough to be sure we don’t write to you again: its name, its company number if it has one and its email address if we had one, with when you asked, and how. Besides that, the website keeps a line for each email we sent you, saying when it went and what became of it, with no name or address in it. The computer that sent our email also has its own note that it wrote to your address, as a scrambled mark rather than the address itself, and that is removed twelve months after the email went. If what you wrote back only read to us like a no, we stop writing to you at once all the same, and Joe reads it to be sure. If it was a no, your business comes off our lists then, as above. If he never gets to it, the same happens when its twelve months are up. A business of exactly the same name as one that asked us to stop, or under the same email address, isn’t written to either, and a note of that is kept. One thing is different if you’re also a customer of ours, or have started a booking, and we’ve noted that the business is yours. We stop writing to it just the same, but what we hold about it is part of your account or your booking: it stays with that, and goes when that does.

Otherwise the website deletes what we hold by itself, 12 months after either of us last wrote to the other, whether or not you replied. If we never wrote to you at all, it goes 12 months after we last found your business in one of those places. If you go on to become a customer, or start a booking, it’s kept with your account or your booking instead, and for as long as that is. The same goes for a business on our lists under the email address you booked with: until we’ve checked whether it’s yours we treat it as yours, so we don’t write to it, and the website doesn’t delete it by itself for as long as we keep your account.

Everything under What you can ask for applies to you as well: you can see what we hold, have it put right or have it deleted. If another business shares your email address, the days we emailed that address are kept, with no name on them, so that we don’t write to it more often than we’ve said. Each goes 12 months after its email, or after your answer to it, or sooner if nobody else is under that address.

To complain about how we’ve used your details, write to the same address or ring the same number. We’ll acknowledge it within 30 days, look into it without hanging about, and tell you what we found and what we’ve done about it. You can also complain to the regulator, the Information Commission, which still goes by “the ICO”, at ico.org.uk/make-a-complaint.

You can read every page here without telling us who you are.

We count visits with Plausible, which uses no cookies. It notes the page, the website that sent you, roughly where in the world you are and what sort of device you’re on. It doesn’t keep your IP address, it can’t tell who you are, and it can’t recognise you from one day to the next. If you’d rather not be counted at all, switch it off here, and this browser won’t be.

We also count three things people do: a call being booked (and which package), a link with an offer in it being followed (and which offer), and the phone number being tapped. None of those says who did it, unless Joe made an offer for you alone, in which case he’ll know when its link was followed.

The pages you reach from a link in one of our emails, to stop them, to confirm your address or to answer a question, aren’t counted at all, because their addresses have a number in them that is yours.

The server keeps the usual record of requests for a fortnight, which includes the IP address each came from, and the website keeps a record of anything that goes wrong for the same time. That’s for keeping the website running and for spotting anyone up to no good. It also counts how often each address tries a form or a sign‑in, for an hour at most, to stop guessing.

The three sample websites are for made‑up businesses, and their forms don’t send or keep anything you type into them.

Near the foot of the front page you can leave an email address and have the prices and the three example websites sent to you. It asks for your email address, and a first name if you’d like to give one, and nothing else. There’s a box to tick, which says what you’ll be sent, and nothing happens unless you tick it. We keep what the box said and when you sent the form.

First we send an email to check the address is yours. (Send the form again and it comes again, three times at most.) It has a link to a page with one button, and nothing else is sent unless you press it. If you never do, what you gave us is deleted a week after you sent the form.

If you do, you get two emails from Joe: the three examples and the prices straight away, and a week later one about how it works and what to have ready. After those he may write now and then, when there’s something worth telling you. We send them because you asked for them, which in the law’s terms is your consent, and you can take it back whenever you like.

Every one of those emails has a link that stops them: follow it and press the button there, and they stop at once. Or tell Joe. From then on we keep your email address, with the day the emails stopped and whether it was you or Joe who stopped them, and nothing else, so that we don’t write to it again. If somebody puts it into the form afresh, it gets the one email that checks the address, and nothing more unless its button is pressed. Ask, and what we kept is deleted too.

If you book a call, these emails stop. You’re a customer then, and what we send you is about your project.

Booking asks for your name, your business’s name and your email address, and for a phone number if you’d like to give one. You also choose a password. We can’t book a call without the first three: we’d not know who we were talking to, or where to send the confirmation.

We keep those with the package and the time you picked, the offer you booked with if there was one, a note of when you agreed to the terms and which version of them, and whether you said you’d rather not be asked for a review. Together that’s your account.

Your call also goes into Joe’s own calendar, which is kept with Apple (iCloud). The entry has your name, your business’s name, your package, your phone number and email address, and when the call is. It’s taken out if the call is cancelled, and a call that’s still to come has its entry put right if you change your details.

Your account is made once your deposit is paid. While you’re paying, what you typed is kept so that your time can be held for you. If you don’t go through with it, the time is let go after about half an hour and nothing is booked.

We do keep who you are, so that we can ask whether you’d like to finish: your name, your business’s name, your email address, your phone number if you gave one, the package and the time you’d picked, and the offer you came with. We don’t keep the password you chose. That’s deleted when your time is let go.

We may then email you about finishing your booking: three short emails from Joe at most, over about ten days. There are three ways to stop the emails. Tick “No reminders, thanks” beside the pay button, and none is sent. Follow the link in any of them and press the button there, and they stop at once. Or tell Joe. They also stop if you book.

If you stop them, we keep your email address and the fact that you asked, and nothing else, so that they don’t start again should you ever leave another booking half‑done. Ask, and that’s deleted too.

Your password is kept scrambled, so nobody can read it, us included. If you forget it, we send a link to choose a new one, and the link works for an hour.

As the work goes on, your account fills up with what passes between us: your calls, the designs we share with you, the notes you pin to them and Joe’s replies, and your invoices.

You can add billing details for those invoices: a name, an email address, a postal address and a VAT number. All of them are optional.

You can send your logo, your photos and any other files for your website from your account. They’re kept with your account as you sent them, which for a photo can include where and when it was taken. The website makes a small copy of a picture, to show you and Joe what was sent, and that copy has none of that in it. Joe sees what you send, and nobody else at Jolora does.

If we host your website and you change it in the editor, your changes are kept as a draft until you put them live or throw them away. Every version that has gone live is kept for two years from the day it went live, with who put it live and when and a line or two about what changed, so that you can go back to one. The version that’s live is kept for as long as it is, however old, and none is kept for longer than we host the website. If you make a private link to show somebody a draft, the link works for a week, and what’s kept of it is a scrambled copy that can’t be turned back into the link. A picture you send from the editor isn’t kept as you sent it: the website draws a copy of its own, which has nothing in it of where or when a photo was taken, and keeps that, with the name your file had, for as long as a version or a draft uses it and we host the website. Until you put it live, only you, Joe and anybody you send a private link to can see it. After that it’s on your website, where anybody can.

If we host your website and somebody fills in a form on it, what they sent is kept in your account, under Enquiries, and emailed to the address your account is in. It stays in your account until you delete it there, and goes when your account does. Those are your visitors’ details, sent to you: what you do with them is yours to decide and to answer for, and your own website should tell its visitors what that is. We keep them and pass them on for you, and use them for nothing else. The next part of this page says the same to the people who send them.

Your account has a Help page, and you can ask Joe a question from it. What you ask is kept with your account as you typed it, with his answer and which guide you were reading, and is emailed to him so that he sees it. His answer is emailed to you.

If you host your own website and connect a Plausible account of your own, we keep your website’s name and the key you give us. The key is stored encrypted, is only ever sent to Plausible, and is forgotten the moment you disconnect.

If something in your account isn’t working, Joe can look at your account as you see it, to find out why. He can only look: nothing can be changed, sent or paid for that way, and each time he looks is recorded with your account.

Your account also keeps three choices that are yours to make there, and to change whenever you like. One is whether your website carries a small line at its foot saying who made it. Another is whether you’d rather not be asked for a review. The third is whether we may show your website off: we ask when it’s nearly finished, in your account and by email, and unless you say yes, nothing is posted about it.

If you say yes, Joe posts about it on our pages on Facebook and Instagram, on his own LinkedIn and on Jolora’s Google Business Profile: who you are, what you do, where you are and a picture of your home page. That rests on your consent, which you can take back whenever you like, and a post that’s already up comes down if you ask.

Before the work starts we ask about your business: what you do, who your customers are, what you want the website to bring in and what you already have. You can answer the questions, or leave them and tell Joe yourself. None of it is compulsory, and any question can be skipped.

Your answers, and the brief written up from them, are kept with your account. They’re saved as you go, including whatever is in the box when you leave the page, so that it’s there when you come back. If you’ve already written a brief, you can send it as a document instead, and that’s kept with your account in the same way.

Joe reads them, because he builds your website from them, and nobody else at Jolora does. Of the companies listed under “Who else sees your details”, Anthropic’s AI works on them, as that part says, and the rest only carry or store them. When you say your brief is right, it’s emailed to Joe, which goes through Postmark like the website’s other emails.

Please don’t put passwords, card numbers or bank details in your answers. We never ask for them. The website takes out what it recognises as a card number or a password before it’s kept or passed on, but it can’t recognise them all. It doesn’t read a document you send, beyond checking what kind of file it is, so take them out of one first.

Someone whose finished brief has an answer to each of the main questions is offered the choice of skipping their first call. That’s a rule in ordinary code, the same for everyone, and no AI has any say in it.

The questions can be answered in a conversation with our brief assistant, which is an AI. It’s built on Claude, an AI service from Anthropic in the United States, and what you type in the conversation is sent to Anthropic to be worked on: each answer as you give it, with the question it answers, so that the assistant can say a line back and perhaps ask one more question, and your answers again at the end, so that it can write them up for you to check and correct. Nothing else about you goes with them: not your name, your email address or your business’s name, unless you type them into an answer. Anthropic doesn’t use it to train its models, and deletes it within 30 days, with a few exceptions such as anything flagged as misuse.

The conversation itself, with the assistant’s side of it, is deleted from our own records 90 days after you last added to it. Your answers and your brief stay with your account.

The same questions are there as a plain form, which doesn’t use the assistant at all. Nothing typed into the form is sent to Anthropic by the assistant, unless you switch to it afterwards: it then writes up your answers, whichever way you gave them.

However you give it, your finished brief is what Joe builds your website from, and he uses AI services for that. Who else sees your details says whose.

Some of the websites we make for small businesses are kept on our server, and answer at the business’s own address. If you fill in a form on one of them, to ask for a call back or a quote, say, what you send goes to that business. It decides what’s asked for and what’s done with it, and it’s the one to ask about that. We keep it and pass it on for them, which is what data protection law calls a processor.

What you put in the form is kept in the business’s account with us, where they read it, and is emailed to them. We don’t use it for anything else: you aren’t added to any list of ours, and we don’t write to you. Joe, who looks after the server, is able to see it, and looks only when the business asks him to, or when something has gone wrong that he can’t put right without.

Sending a form sets no cookie. To keep rubbish out, the website counts how many forms have come from the same internet address in the last day, using a scrambled copy of the address, which is no use to anything once the day is up. The address isn’t kept with what you sent.

It stays in the business’s account until they delete it, or until their account with us is deleted, and has gone from our backups 30 days after that. If something goes wrong as it’s being kept, the website’s record of errors notes that it did, and nothing of what you sent. The email is theirs, in their own mailbox, and Postmark, which carries it, keeps its copy for 45 days. To see what a business holds about you, or to have it deleted, ask the business. If you can’t reach them, tell us and we’ll pass it on.

To do what you’ve asked us to do: hold your calls, build your website, invoice you and keep you posted. In the law’s terms, that’s carrying out our contract with you. If you’re booking for a company, the contract is the company’s, and our footing for using your own details is our legitimate interest in dealing with whoever speaks for it.

If you start booking and don’t finish, we use what you typed to ask whether you’d like to. In the law’s terms, that’s our legitimate interests, and you can stop it whenever you like.

If you ask for the prices, we use your email address to send them, and what follows them. That rests on your consent, which you can take back whenever you like. And a week after your website is finished we ask, once, whether you’d leave a review: that’s our legitimate interests again, and you can tell us you’d rather not be asked, as you book or at any time after. Posting about your website, if you’ve said we may, rests on your consent too.

We keep invoices and the records behind them because tax law says we must. We keep the website secure and count its visitors because we have a legitimate interest in a website that works and in knowing whether anyone reads it.

We don’t pass your details to anyone for advertising, and we don’t sell them. The only marketing you’ll get from us is what this page describes: the reminders about a booking you didn’t finish, the emails you asked for if you asked for the prices, and one request for a review once your website is finished. Each of them can be stopped.

No decision that matters about you is left to a machine. The website settles two small things by itself: whether to offer you the choice of skipping your first call, which is under Your brief, and whether a form was sent by a person, which is under Who else sees your details.

What happens to what you tell us about your business is under Your brief. We use AI to help write and build your website: whose it is, and what it’s sent, is under Who else sees your details, and how we use it is in the terms.

The website sends emails about your booking and your project: a confirmation, a link if you’ve forgotten your password, a note when your brief has been written up, a note when your looks or a design are ready, or Joe has replied or opened your choice of look again, his answer to a question you asked from the Help page, your invoices, a note if a payment doesn’t go through, and one if your deposit is refunded in full and the project called off. When your website is nearly finished it asks whether we may show it off, and asks once more a week later if you haven’t answered. After that Joe may ask again himself. If you’ve said we may but asked to see each post first, Joe emails you the words. If you start booking and don’t finish, it also sends the reminders described under “When you book a call”.

A week after your website is finished, it sends one email from Joe asking whether you’d leave a Google review. It’s sent once and never again, it says you needn’t, and it has a link for telling us you’d rather not be asked.

There’s one mailing list, and you’re only on it if you put yourself there: the one described under “If you ask for the prices”. Booking a call, or having an account, doesn’t add you to it.

They’re delivered by Postmark, an email service in the United States, which handles your address and the message in order to send it, and keeps a copy of each message for 45 days before deleting it.

The website also emails Joe when there’s something he needs to know: a booking, a note on a design, a question from the Help page, a finished brief, somebody who stopped at the payment page. Those go through Postmark too, and stay in Jolora’s own mailbox afterwards.

If you email or ring Joe instead, your message stays in Jolora’s own mailbox and call list. He uses it to answer you and to do what you’ve asked, and everything on this page about your rights applies to it too.

When you pay online, it’s on Stripe’s page and not ours: you give your card or bank details to Stripe, so we never see or keep your card number or its security code. What Stripe shows us is the kind of card, its last four digits and when it runs out.

To open the payment page we send Stripe your business’s name, your email address and what you’re paying for: for a deposit, that’s your package and the time of your call. When it’s an invoice from your account, your own name goes too. Stripe has those whether or not you go on to pay.

Stripe tells us whether the payment went through, how it was made (by card, say, or by bank transfer) and its own reference for it, and for you, and we keep those with the invoice and with your account. If a payment is refunded, Stripe tells us that too. If it’s your deposit, refunded in full, your project is marked as called off, with the day. Your account is kept, for as long as this page says. Stripe holds your name, email address and payment details under its own privacy policy, and its page sets cookies of its own.

If you pay an invoice by bank transfer instead, we see what your bank sends with it: the name on the account and the reference.

Your invoices, and the names and addresses on them, are also entered in FreeAgent, the accounts software Jolora uses.

Only the companies we need in order to run the website and the business, and each only what its job requires. These are they, with where each keeps what it’s given.

DigitalOcean hosts the website and its database, on a server in London. It also keeps the nightly backups of both, in its data centre in Amsterdam, so that a copy is somewhere other than the server: each is encrypted on the server before it’s sent, with a key DigitalOcean doesn’t have. It’s an American company. It says it leaves what’s on a server in the place its customer chose, though its terms would let it move it.

Postmark delivers the website’s emails. It belongs to ActiveCampaign, an American company, and its servers are in the United States. It keeps a copy of each email for 45 days and then deletes it.

Stripe takes the payments. We deal with its British company, and it handles payments in the United States and other countries as well as here.

Apple keeps Joe’s calendar, in iCloud. Its Irish company looks after people in the UK, and the calendar is stored in the United States and elsewhere.

Proton keeps Jolora’s own mailbox, which is where an email to hello@jolora.co.uk arrives and where Joe answers it from, and the mailbox Joe writes from when he gets in touch with a business about these packages: those emails are sent from it and kept in it, and replies to them arrive there. It’s a Swiss company, Proton AG, and it says its servers are in Switzerland, Germany and Norway and nowhere else.

Cloudflare, an American company, checks that a person is sending the booking form, or the form for asking for the prices, and not a program. Its script is only fetched once you reach the last step of booking, or start on the form for the prices. It sees your browser’s details and your internet address while it runs, and tells us only whether you passed. When you send the form, we hand its answer back to Cloudflare to be checked, with your internet address.

FreeAgent, the accounts software, is a British company in Edinburgh. The companies it uses to hold its customers’ books have servers in the UK, the European Union and the United States.

Plausible counts visits. It’s an Estonian company, and keeps what it counts in the European Union.

Anthropic, whose AI, Claude, we use to help write and build websites. It’s sent what you’ve told us for your website: your brief, and the words and pictures that are going on the pages. Our contract is with its Irish company, Anthropic Ireland Limited, and the company behind it is American. What we send goes to the United States, and may be worked on there or in another country where Anthropic has computers, under the standard contract terms the UK approves for sending personal details abroad. It doesn’t use what we send to train its models.

Our accountant sees the invoices, and HMRC can ask to.

The UK has ruled that the European Union looks after people’s details well enough, so nothing more is needed for what goes there. It has ruled the same of American companies that have signed up to a scheme called the Data Privacy Framework, with its UK extension, which DigitalOcean, Stripe, Cloudflare and Postmark’s owner each say they have. Where that doesn’t apply, the company relies on standard contract terms written for the purpose, as Anthropic does and as Apple says it does. Ask Joe and he’ll tell you which applies to what, and send you a copy.

The UK has ruled the same of Switzerland and Norway as of the European Union, which between them are where Proton keeps mail.

Postmark, FreeAgent, Plausible and DigitalOcean work only on our instructions. Stripe, Cloudflare and Apple also use what they see for purposes of their own, such as spotting fraud and improving their own services, and each says how in its own privacy policy: Stripe’s, Cloudflare’s and Apple’s. Anthropic also checks what it’s sent against its own rules on misuse, and may keep what that flags for longer; its privacy policy says how.

The website sets a few small cookies of its own. There are no advertising or tracking cookies, which is why there’s no banner asking you to accept them.

shopbell_session keeps your visit together: that you’re signed in, and that a form you send came from this website. It lasts two hours from the last page you opened.

XSRF-TOKEN goes with it, and stops other websites sending forms in your name. It lasts the same two hours.

A cookie whose name starts remember_customer is only set if you tick “Keep me signed in on this device”. It signs you back in when you return, and lasts 400 days or until you sign out.

offer is only set if you follow a link from Joe with an offer in it. It holds that offer’s code and nothing else, lasts thirty days, and is there so the offer is still waiting when you come back. It’s cleared when you book. Nobody else is given it.

Nobody else’s cookies are set on these pages, with one possible exception. Cloudflare’s check on the two forms runs in a frame of Cloudflare’s own, and Cloudflare says the check uses cookies and the browser’s storage to do its job. It isn’t fetched unless you reach one of those forms. Stripe’s payment page is Stripe’s own, and sets cookies of its own.

Your account stays for as long as we’re working together or hosting your website, and for six years after that, in case you come back or something needs putting right. Then it’s deleted: the website tells Joe when an account’s six years are up, and he deletes it, unless there’s a reason to keep it longer, which he writes down. Signing in to your account counts as working together, and so does anything else that passes between us, so the six years only start once all of that has stopped.

What’s deleted is your details, your brief, the files you sent for your website, the designs and the notes on them, what you asked from the Help page, and your calls. If you’d like it gone sooner, ask, and we’ll remove everything except what the law makes us keep, and two things besides. If you’ve asked us not to write to you, we keep your email address and the fact that you asked, and your business’s name, and its company number if we had it, so that nothing is posted to it either, because that’s what stops us. And for up to 30 days we keep a note with no name in it, which Joe goes by to clear up the places the website can’t reach: the address of your website, the references you went by at Stripe and in the accounts software, the code of any offer you booked with, and when your calls were. Joe is also emailed your customer number and the day your account was deleted, and nothing else, so that if the website ever had to be put back from a backup he’d know to delete your account again.

Invoices, and the names and addresses on them, are kept for six years after the end of the financial year they belong to, because that’s what tax law asks of us. Then they’re deleted too, in the same way: the website tells Joe when their six years are up, and he deletes them, unless your account is still open, or the law makes us keep them longer.

A call that has happened stays in Joe’s calendar for as long as your account is kept, and is taken out when the account is deleted, or Joe is told which he has to take out himself. Ask, and it’s taken out sooner.

If you send the booking form and don’t pay, what we keep about you is deleted 60 days after the last email we send you about it, or 60 days after you sent the form if we send none. Ask, and it’s deleted sooner. If you stopped the reminders, your email address and the fact that you asked are kept until you ask us to delete those too. A link to choose a new password stops working after an hour, and the cookies run out as described above.

If we wrote to your business first, without being asked, the website deletes what it holds about the business 12 months after either of us last wrote to the other, or 12 months after we last found it in a list if we never wrote at all. If you ask us to stop, it’s deleted as soon as we’re told, apart from what stops us writing to you again: the business’s name, and its company number and email address if we had them, with when you asked, and how, which we keep until you ask us to delete those too. The computer that sent our email keeps its own mark of having written to your address for twelve months from the day the email went, whatever happens in between. A business we’ve noted as a customer’s, or as belonging to somebody who has started a booking, isn’t written to either once it asks, and stays with that account or booking until that goes.

If you asked for the prices and never confirmed your address, it’s deleted a week after you sent the form. Once you’re on the list, your address stays on it until you stop the emails, and it’s deleted anyway if two years go by without our writing to you. Once you’ve stopped them we keep the address, and the note that they were stopped, so as not to write to it again, until you ask us to delete that too.

Postmark keeps its copy of each email for 45 days. The server’s record of requests and the website’s own record of errors are kept for a fortnight, and backups for 30 days, so anything deleted from the website has gone from the backups by then.

Some of what’s in your account is also kept where deleting it from the website doesn’t reach: Stripe’s record of your payments, the invoices in the accounts software, and the emails in Jolora’s own mailbox. When an account is deleted Joe sees to those by hand, and keeps only what the law says he must.

Joe’s working sessions with the AI about your website are another. They have your brief and your words in them, and they’re kept on his computer and in his account with Anthropic for as long as your account is. When it’s deleted, he deletes them too, and Anthropic then removes them from its own systems within 30 days, with a few exceptions such as anything flagged as misuse.

You can ask to see what we hold about you, have a mistake put right, have it deleted, have a copy to take elsewhere, or ask us to stop or limit what we do with it. Much of it you can change yourself, under “Your details” and “Invoices” in your account. For the rest, ask Joe. It costs nothing, and you’ll have an answer within a month. If another business shares your email address, the days we emailed that address are kept, with no name on them, so that we don’t write to it more often than we’ve said. Each goes 12 months after its email, or after your answer to it, or sooner if nobody else is under that address.

And you can always tell us to stop using your details to sell you anything. We stop, and you needn’t say why.

If you think we’ve handled your details badly, tell Joe, by email or by phone. We’ll acknowledge a complaint within 30 days, look into it without hanging about, and tell you what we found and what we’ve done about it. You can also complain to the regulator, the Information Commission, which still goes by “the ICO”, at ico.org.uk/make-a-complaint.

When what the website does with your details changes, so will this page, and the date at the top says when it last did. If the change matters to you as a customer, we’ll email you about it.