Victor Meldrew has nothing on me.....

I don't believe it.... my bit of cyberspace to engage in anger therapy - no, make that Irritation therapy. Oh wonders, I can moan, groan and generally offload all those pissy little things that literally ruin one's day, you know, the day that began really well until you stepped out of the front door.

I have this over the road neighbour, the type that looks the other way when anyone is in his line of vision. Well, we seem to have a little competition thing going on, actually, HE has a little competition thing going on - whereas I just hate him. Anyway, he seems to wait for me to get in my car, put the car in reverse then quick as lightning he slams into reverse and makes me wait while he painstakingly backs out into the road. I could swear the guy would just happily back into me if I didn't graciously wait for him. I am eyeing my potatoes quietly....wonder if there is one just the right size for his exhaust....

Anyway, today I had a mundane appointment in town, being 18 miles away, I set off (after hating my over the road neighbour for the mandatory 4 minutes) in good timing. Would you believe every tractor had to be on the main road at the same time as I? Do these farmers (bless you - hard working lot) get a thrill from regulating everyone down to 30mph?? Maybe they have some sort of 'drive to stay alive' club going on and think they are doing us all a wonderful service... Arriving in town, now late due to my self appointed traffic guardians, I attempt to find somewhere to park the car, hopefully within a mile or two of my meeting. Oh God, I feel another paragraph coming on.

Parking? More like organised crime. Once upon a time most of the parking lots that ajoined each other could be accessed from the same gate. Oh no, that makes peoples lives far too eay... now they have kindly put bollards between them. Drive in one, fruitlessly search for a space, leave again and then try to find the craftily hidden entrance to the one that used to be part of the first. Find out that you cannot reverse back up a one way, so have to leave town and re-enter town to find that you have come back to the wrong gate again.. This would delight Mr Bean I am sure...

Eventually, one internal temper, 20 minutes of contained road rage and a few more gray hairs no doubt, I am parked. Strangely I feel excited like I have just achieved something?? Late for the meeting and still have to cross town on foot I run to the parking pay machine. Parking inspector - or more like the Parking Don, makes a large game of eyeballing my car, when he can see me by the pay station - he grunts when I return with the sticker - which I cannot get off the paper and ambles off. I fight the urge to stick theparking sticker on his forehead. I would put it elsewhere but the time wouldn't be able to be read..