The Curate's Egg V

Egg of the Day: Random

I haven't grumbled too much recently, so the pills must be working.

Until today.

Mrs Acular, the Twin Aculae and I wandered into Mothercare today, for we had a need, a need for more bloody car seats (do kids keep on growing or is there a way of Bonsai-ing them?) Minding my own business as I was, I noticed a four-wheel-drive Little Johnny carrier haul in and park in the space reserved for those with a disability - more especially, a Blue Badge. Did the oversized Chelsea Tractor have such a badge. No, of course not - don't be silly. The ample lady that poured out of the driving seat looked quite able bodied as she lollopped into the Mothercare. As you might imagine, that riled me - and riled me quite a lot. In fact, ever since I worked in and managed retail tin-cans, the misappropriation of disabled-parking has become my bete noir! Worse still when you stop at most Comet superstores - it is often their own staff in the 'disabled' bays, and that's a concrete fact for you!

I have tried to get to the bottom of why I might feel as I do about something that doesn't directly affect me (unless we move the subject on to Parent & Sprog parking spots, then I am apt to explode). I think that part of it is the laziness of it, part of it the sheer arrogance, and the other is that it feels like cheating. Like queue-jumping, it is just not acceptable. No! So I am not overly fond of lazy arrogant cheats - I will have to make my confession and seek absolution later. 

So, people who concieve the notion in their own minds that they are the one exemption to the rules about driving in Bus Lanes, those folks cited above, those who will flash you in the fast lane of a motorway so that you get out of their way (when you yourself are splintering the speed limit already) - to you all I say this:  .....

...I'd better not, I'd get in trubble.

Still, off to Lincoln with the good folk of the Parish - back Monday, possibly. Happy days!