You’d have thought that a three-way confrontation in a West London housing estate on a sultry summer evening would be sparked over something important, like racist community action, or something. But not a blimmin’ parking space.
First of all, some background. I’ve part-owned my flat for about a decade – but the parking space is not outside my flat, it’s further down the estate opposite someone else’s house. Since I don’t own a car any more, I rent out said parking space to whoever wants it, for about £5 a day. So far, there’s been no troubles …
until today. Some building company wanted to park their Transit van there for a month, and offered me a lump sum which I accepted. When they finally arrived at said parking space, they pointed out that there was already a scooter there. So I suggested they just park in the space next to the scooter.
Oh no. These numbnuts MOVE the scooter to the pavement.
Cue three of today’s finest yoof angrily coming out of the house opposite, (understandably) asking what on earth is going on. So now I have to prove my ownership of said space – which comes as a surprise to the evil Curly Watts lookalike (complete with bottles for glasses) who owns the house opposite.
Unfortunately, I’ve never been very good at confronting the thieving yoof of today, so while I’m trying to remain calm, I’m probably slightly stuttering and quietly spoken. But the leader of the yoof gang gleefully informs me that I’m shouting, but then of course everyone else is shouting at each other. Oh, and for bonus points, he says I stink – which is as close as you can get to a racist insult without it actually being a racist insult. Hell, he might as well have said I stank of curry powder.
So all this took the wind out of my sails, but at the same time, the kids withdrew back into the house, with the Curly Watts lookalike threatening to beat us up. The owners of said Transit van are no longer sure that the parking space is safe, and thus leave.
So I’m left with a house at the end of the street that hates me, a parking space that I can’t really use for fear that one of them will vandalise anything that’s put there, and a reminder of my utter ineptness at dealing with the arrogant yoof of today. Just like the time in Cardiff when I confronted someone trying to steal my bike and HE CARRIED ON BREAKING THE LOCK WHILE I WAS THERE.
Just another random muggy spring night on my housing estate.