September 20, 2009Posted by on
It’s been a relatively quiet weekend. Yesterday we did not much during the day, although we went to the garden centre late afternoon and bought Huffle her new parsley pot. Actually we bought three pots and planted two of them with cat grass, catnip and cat mint. The other one has no plants in it so she can sit in it and not kill anything.
Then we decided to go to the movies. We saw the new Quentin Tarantino movie, Inglourious Basterds. It was a typical Tarantino movie, full of blood and violence, and a jumpy story, but I enjoyed it. Maybe it was a bit too long though, at just over two hours. I thought Brad Pitt was quite good as Lt Raine, but the boy did not like his character at all. I did like the fact that I recognised Harvey Keitel’s voice in one scene (he has been in every single Tarantino film, as far as I know).
Today we went out for breakfast, that was a pleasant enough outing. I spent the afternoon planting out the companion parsley pots, then baked some brownies, then did the laundry, then the grocery shopping. Such excitement.
Oh I forgot to tell you about my Friday! I went to work as usual in the morning but the airconditioning vent above my desk was doing weird things and sounded like a jet engine was roaring above my head, so I came home again to do some work in peace. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before but there is a very big mosque on the corner of the street I live in. Ramadan has been going for the past month, and every day at sundown approximately 1,563,289 muslims arrived to pray. Usually it doesn’t bother us in the slightest.
Anyhow Friday is the big holy day for muslims and at lunchtime you cannot move in our street for all the cars and people. Again, not usually a problem because we’re generally at work at lunchtime on Fridays. Except this week. Around 12.45pm, I heard a car pull up in our drive way. I decided it was way to early to expect the boy home, so I opened the front door to see who it was.
There was a car parked in our driveway. Not my car. Not the boy’s car. Not the car of anyone I know. A random car. Tucked right in up against the garage door. What?
As I’m standing out the front, trying to work out what was going on, the annoying young man who lives across the street (he was out there smoking) told me he saw the driver run off into the mosque. So some random person thinks he can just park his car in MY driveway, assuming no-one is going to notice?
A couple of minutes later, the local council parking inspectors arrived. One side of our street is permit parking only, but some people attending the mosque don’t seem to be too bothered by that fact. I called them over to ask if they could do anything about the strange car in my driveway. The more senior one called the office to see if there was any law that would allow them to at least give this person a ticket, if not get the car removed. Remember they were blocking the garage, so if I had some sort of emergency I would not have been able to get my car out.
Turns out the person was not breaking any council by-laws, which was a shame. The nice parking inspectors (bet you never thought you’d hear all those words in the same sentence) told me my only option would be to call the police, which I didn’t want to do because it would be a waste of their time. By this time prayer time seemed to be over and people were coming out of the mosque. So I asked the inspectors to wait with me until the owner of the car showed up. With his two small children, both of whom tried to run across the garden (I told them off for that). When the man who owned the car showed up, I think he was a bit surprised to find me and two men in uniform standing in front of his car. Actually he looked petrified. I asked him if it was his car (yes) and then if it was his house (no). So then I asked who he thought he was to be parking in my driveway. His excuse was that it was his first time in this country and he didn’t know.
Whatever country you’re from, you do NOT park in someone else’s driveway. That was the most pathetic excuse I’ve ever heard. I told him I wasn’t interested in his excuses and if I ever saw his car in my driveway again I would call the police, and to get his car off my property now. No, don’t talk to me, just get out of here. Now.
I was so angry I was shaking. But I didn’t yell, and I didn’t call him all the nasty names that were going around in my head. The parking inspectors told me I handled it very well. I thanked them for staying with me.
The nerve of some people!
(sorry this is such a long post)