D'you know what I find intriguing? Apart from things like people who only respond to emails when they've got something to complain about, or a 'concern', but send them a direct request for information and there's tumbleweed cartwheeling through the ether... or the fact that all the judges on The Voice think all the acts are 'Amaaaazing' and they're 'so proud'... Are they deaf?
...or even that community spirit in my home village of Monton has all but disappeared behind the roll-down shutters now enhancing every establishment, said lack of 'community spirit' personified by the eyebrow-studded traffic warden who strolled past my car as I pulled up, three minutes before the no parking restriction lifted for the day, nonchalantly strolled a further couple of hundred yards on and across the road as I sat hesitantly in the car wondering whether I should actually park yet, but assuming that hey! anyone with any COMMUNITY spirit would have said, 'I'm terribly sorry Madam, but you can't actually park there at the moment, but give it another three minutes and you'll be fine, so how about you drive round the block a bit... or maybe I'll just turn a blind eye, on this occasion as I can see you're only nipping to the bank to pay a cheque in, but please don't let it happen again'... instead of loitering, on the other side of the road, a good two hundred yards or so away, until I've got out of the car and nipped in the bank for the time it takes to pay one single cheque in across the counter, before she sprints (I do hope she's made the squad) back across the road to give me a ticket.
'I suggest you appeal,' she says, as I remonstrate with her and a bloke in a van shouts obscenities at her as he drives past, causing her studded eyebrow to rise, ever so slightly. Water and ducks spring to mind. Save your breath Van Man, this girl is Teflon.
So I do. I appeal. But I send the cheque for the half-price fine anyway (buy half, get away scot free) because deep in my soul I know the Traffic Enforcement Officer who reads my very articulate letter is probably an arse. With a capital A. Who hides behind that very title. And quotes traffic rules and regulations and laws and stuff when he/she replies by return of post. And graciously accepts my cheque for thirty-five quid. Whilst completely missing my point about community spirit.
And that's why Monton is all but dead. Especially at night, when all the shutters are down. And thanks to now having to pay £1.50 to park on the (now usually) empty car park, just to nip to the post office or pop to the bank. Which is why people now vie for spots in the parking bays. Which aren't available till after 9.30 am, so if you want to nip there first thing, before you get on with an honest day's work, you're b**ggered. Or you want to support the local shops: the florists, say, or the newsagents, or the pharmacy (God help you if you need a prescription!) or even the newly instituted Tesco Express (another triumph of local councilling). And let me tell you, no amount of 'Monton in Bloom' style flower arrangements are going to make it any better.
No... what really intrigues me is that since my last post, I have had three page views - two of those today. One of them is in Germany and the others, I think, are somewhere in that huge, huge, huge mass of land that is Russia. I like to think these people enjoy my ramblings. But why? Why would they? And how do they even know I'm here, blogging away into the stratosphere? The internet eh? Scary. Bit like that traffic warden.
