I was walking up a long hill in Nottingham (to the pub, actually) a while ago, a few yards behind two of Nottingham's Finest Traffic Wardens (even the name reminds you of prison...). I presume they hunt in pairs because one is good at letters and the other at numbers...
Anyway, one stopped beside a parked car, took out his ticket gizmo and slapped a ticket onto the windscreen. The car belonged to my friend Brian, who was a resident of the street and had a valid resident's permit. I checked to confirm this was up to date and on show as I passed the car, then caught up with the pair and asked why the car had been ticketed.
"It's a Resident's space" came the reply.
"But he lives just there and he has a parking permit on display" I said.
The man turned to his cohort and they both laughed - "Too effing late, mate! I've issued the ticket now so he'll have to take it up with the Police HQ people".
Makes you feel proud, doesn't it?
As a tale in favour of car parking people, wife #1 and I had driven non-stop from Derby to Sherringham, in Norfolk, despite the outside temperature being around 75° and my little HC Viva not having anything as luxurious as aircon. We pulled into the car park on Morris Street to be greeted by an old gaffer with a real broad Norfolk accent.
"Boy" he says " You look haaaat! Where you come from?"
"Derby" I said.
"Whaaaat? All in one go? You be maaaad! Now, if you paaaaark your caaaar over there in that space (pointing) then that tree'll shade it from the sun"
I thanked him and parked up.
As we passed the entrance on foot he said "I suppose you'll be hungry and need a drink, eh? Well, you go down there and cross the bridge - don't go in (Name of pub omitted) - but carry on to The (Can't remember!). You can get a noice point and a bootiful craaab sandwich there".
And what do you know? He was dead right!
DM
