
Anyway, it's encouraging to know that Wyatt and his son can be trusted not to aid any local gazumpers. Or maybe it's just my Mum they don't want to talk to. But either way, it was good to see that sold sign when I drove Lisa to work this morning. Even if the excitement nearly made me hit a bus.
In other news, I had visual confirmation yesterday of the sterling work being done by local people to assist those unlucky enough to receive a parking ticket. Sitting on the wall outside Lisa's place of work at lunchtime, I chose to pass the time by looking at a nearby car with the numberplate P491 GRD, and trying to convince myself that if I squinted hard enough, I could make it say 'Phil Gardner'. I'm easily entertained. Anyhoo, the car was parked on double yellow lines, and had a parking ticket tucked under the windscreen wiper. At least it did for a little while...
As I sat there squinting, three teenage girls, one of whom was wearing a pink tracksuit top and looked suspiciously like Vicki Pollard, came strolling down the road, and as they passed the car with the personalised numberplate, the Pollard girl snatched up the parking ticket, read it as they walked down the hill, then screwed it up, put it in her pocket, and disappeared into the Jobcentre. Presumably to check for any vacancies at the local Chavs R Us.
Clearly the girl's intention was to save the car's owner from the stress and trauma of finding out he'd been fined. It's a form of community service (and let's face it, I'm sure she's no stranger to that). Of course, she was also saving him from the chance of getting a £30 reduction for paying promptly, but hey, ignorance is bliss, and besides, what's £30 compared to the joy of returning to your car and finding you've got away scot free with your illegal parking? It's a small price to pay for happiness, and I'm sure he'll thank her for it in the long run.
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