PARKING MAD

There are some things that can instantly inflame one’s brain causing an internal mini volcano to erupt forth leaving a verbal trail of devastation in its wake.  And once it’s out, you can’t take it back.  That ticking time-bomb is ‘parking’.  I know because I’m the first to rush to my front window with an imaginary flame-thrower at the slightest rev of an engine to torch any vehicle overhanging the dropped kerbs next to my driveway.  (I wish)

Parking issues are the bane of most people’s life. The end of free parking at work has been a more hotly debated topic than the Trump election.  Ah, if only my colleagues would take as much interest in the more important things in life but sadly it seems that parking is top of everyone’s agenda.  The closer you live to the office, the more vocal the protester.  Many workers could easily walk to work but choose not to then wonder why they’re at the bottom of the parking permit food chain.  If I wasn’t already grey, the never-ending tirade of verbal diarrhoea I’ve had to endure over the past few weeks about paying to park at work would have left me looking like Gandalf.  Sheesh!

I have 3 words to say to all you lazy buggers out there who have the opportunity to save yourself a small fortune and not use public transport – WALK TO WORK!!  

Or cycle.  Two wheels good: four wheels bad.  But for God’s sake and mine just do something other than whinge.  If not to save the planet then to save yourself because next time I hear even the slightest mention of the P word, I’m going to come round to your desk and force a pen pot of paperclips down your throat.