LAST WEEK it was my mum and myself, Monday morning it’s Barbara’s mum I’m taking
to the doctor’s. The most inspiring thing I can find to draw is the pile of magazines,
although they keep moving as people riffle through them. A couple of women come in
behind us. The first coughs over our shoulders (waiting rooms are great places for
catching up on the latest germs).
“Would you like a Yorkshire Life?” she says to her bored companion, “Or a People’s
“Now you are joking,” comes the glum reply, “I’d rather read a sex magazine than
People’s Friend!” in a tone of voice indicating that reading a sex magazine would
be tedious in the extreme.
It’s a glum Monday for me too. After a second failed appeal, I’m jolly well going
to have to accept that I’ll have to pay my parking fine. We were dashing to the town
hall with some Rhubarb books for the NEC show a month ago and I was delighted to
find a parking space nearby. I misread the sign partly because we were in such a
hurry but also because the only place you can read it is from the centre lane on
Wood Street (left) and consequently I was worried that traffic was about to hurtle
around the corner when the lights changed.
It’s a one-sided sign so I couldn’t double-check it from the safety of the pavement.
“You’d have to a contortionist to read it.” says my local councillor. So that’s a
£45 fine. At least it’s paid now.
You can comfortably read the sign only from the yellow area I’ve marked in the middle
of Wood Street.