Monday 27th May, Reading, UK. I'd gone to visit my youngest daughter who is at university there, taking my middle daughter with me. We'd had the usual kind of journey, playing our favourite game of queuing on the M25 for what seems like forever and for no apparent reason. On this particular occasion I think it was due to everyone having the same idea as us - stop for coffee at the Clackett Lane Costa to get away from the interminable roadworks for a short time - which resulted in lots of traffic trying to get back into the reduced speed, reduced lanes all at the same time. Anyway, we managed to make it to Reading around lunch time after a second traffic jam experience, this time on the M4. I empathised profusely as we eventually managed to speed past all those family saloons trying to leave the motorway at Windsor, presumably heading for Legoland, probably full of over excited children continuously asking if they were nearly there yet. But back to my story, so we picked up daughter number three and headed to town, negotiated the one way system and joined the queue for parking at the Oracle. We didn't have to wait too long before getting through the ticket barrier and setting off towards the higher floors - altitude practice for my forthcoming skydive! There were some empty spaces available on the fifth floor (I think, I have to admit I wasn't really counting), so we drove round that level to find one. The first empty space we came to was not far from the lifts, stairs and pay point so seemed ideal, the only problem being that the diver of the black car in the next door bay, had parked over the white line, in fact considerably over the white line. Granted there was a concrete wall on the other side of their bay, but the car was approximately two foot away from the wall, that's how far off centre the driver was when reversing into the bay. Still, not to worry I thought, as the driver of the car on the other side of the empty bay had also parked slightly off centre towards the left of his/her bay, but within the lines. Also, my Peugeot isn't very big, so I had a go and managed to fit nicely in the bay, within the demarcation lines and with enough room for us to be able to open the doors and get out. Okay, so my daughters both got out on the other side of the car, where there was slightly more room, but I got out the driver's door, which opened about 6 - 8 inches and luckily there's not much of me, so it was fine - my door made no contact with the other vehicle and I felt quite proud of myself. Job done!
We had a lovely lunch in the Slug and Lettuce and then headed back to the car to go to Silchester for a look around, as my youngest daughter is studying ancient history and archaeology and excavating the Roman town of Silchester is part of the course. The first thing we noticed on returning to the car was that the black car next door had gone and someone else was parked in that bay, this time well within the lines. As I opened the car door I noticed a piece of paper stuck under my windscreen wiper, which I retrieved as I got in. Shutting the door, I looked at the note, for indeed that's what it was, presumably left by the lovely driver of the car I'd originally parked next to. By way of a thank you to me for my skill and courteousness at parking within the white lines of the parking bay despite the difficulty caused to me by him or her not being quite so skilful at manoeuvring, the driver had written in large capital letters, one word - T**T. Obviously there weren't any asterisks, but I'm sure you can work out what the missing letters were. I was speechless. Absolutely speechless! Not to mention completely staggered that someone would do that when they were the one who had parked incorrectly, not me. So there you have it, my unplanned fifty first - I've never had a rude note left on my windscreen before. Technically I suppose I could count it as two fifty firsts, because I've also never had a rude note left on my windscreen for being the person who didn't make a driving/parking faux pas by the person who actually did make the driving/parking faux pas. But that's way too confusing, so I'll just happily accept it as one fifty first and in a strange way, I have to thank the inconsiderate T**T, to use their words not mine, for helping me one more step towards my goal!
If you want to see the photographic proof visit Alison's Fifty Firsts on either Facebook or Twitter.
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