Don't be illl (sic)

The danger of lapsing into sickness.

We think one small affliction will do us no harm, and maybe even some good - but then we find it becomes habit forming and we can hardly manage to get well again.

Consider the virtue of procrastination. Why get sick today if you can be sick tomorrow - or even next week!

Even better, make it a new years resolution and put it off for years. If you can procrastinate sickness, then maybe try to put off that final exit from life!

You know it makes sense!

Parking Charge Notice

A Parking Charge Notice arrived in the post last week for parking for more than two hours in an empty car park after the shops had closed, near Dewsbury Sports centre; charging £100, reduced to £60 if paid quickly enough that there is no time to think about it.

I thought about it.

First, there are a few flaws with the original notice:

1. It does not properly identify the car park; only a 1 line car park name with no mention of town or county.
2. It states that signage showing the terms and conditions is clearly displayed at the entrance - it was not, or it would have been noticed.
3. That by parking, the driver has agreed to be bound by the terms and conditions - not so! Not being aware of the sign, one could not know that parking there would bind one by the terms and conditions. (Even if one was aware it is still possible to park there without agreeing to the terms and conditions though this might constitute trespass instead of breach of contract).

And then the usual misleading characteristics of such threatening demands, the letter is so designed with the sole narrative of having the reader pay some money now, because the letter tells them to.

The letter states that as the keeper one should identify the driver, and comments here http://www.honestjohn.co.uk/faq/private-parking-penalties/ suggest that one must identify the driver.

The British Parking Association in 2011 lobbied Parliament for a clause in the Protection of Freedoms Bill (Chapter 2, Clause 56) to make vehicle keepers liable for private parking penalties in the same way they can be held liable for road traffic offences and street parking offences if they do not identify the driver of the car at the time of the offence

and

Two comments from Nev Metson who knows more about this issue than anyone else:

...

The Achilles heel in this legislation for the private parking company is that once the registered keeper has named the driver then the registered keeper can no longer be held liable, irrespective of whether or not the private parking company gets it's money or not from the driver.

but their letter does not state how to do this. of course not, they would rather that one just paid.

One might think that you could notify them of the driver by writing to the registered office address in small print at the bottom of page 2. The only large and obvious contact details are for paying. I did this by registered post, thus discharging the only legal liability as I understand it.

And in true cheapskate fashion it asks the reader to do their dirty work for them, stating

If you were not the driver at the time, you should tell us the name and current postal address of the driver and pass this notice to them. 

Well, actually, no, I don't think I have to do your delivery work for you, you can send a notice to the driver yourself. (Which they then did).

The appeals procedure is interesting, but to follow such a procedure would imply that one agreed with the original assertion that one had entered into a contract with them. They can have an appeals procedure if they like, but I don't need to use it.

£100

The size of the claim is interesting.  At http://www.honestjohn.co.uk/faq/private-parking-penalties/ we read:

Unfair Private Parking Penalties

(With thanks to Alan Salsbury)

Ticketed car parking in a car park or on private land is a contract between the car driver and the owner of the land or the company managing paring on the land. If an unfair penalty for parking in an off road car park is imposed by a parking enforcement company due to a breach, often due to circumstances beyond the car owner's control, there is a remedy. (Thinking in particular of the driver who, having purchased a train station parking ticket for two days, arrived back at the car 11 minutes late.)

The law covers this situation adequately with the Unfair Contract Terms Act 1977 which clearly provides under group 5 para 1(e)** that "Terms may be unfair if they have the object or effect requiring any consumer who fails to fulfil his obligation to pay a disproportionate high sum in compensation". In other words, the company owning or managing the parking space can only charge a penalty which accurately reflects the loss of income they suffered arising from that breach. Insofar as the driver arrived 11 minutes late the penalty, if any, should be the cost of an 11 minute ticket. If there were several other parking spaces available, then no loss was suffered.

"I have quoted this act several times to such organisations and in each case they have cancelled the ticket, albeit without prejudice to future decisions to avoid creating a precedent. It has worked every time. However, anybody thinking of using this law to avoid buying a ticket. beware. You have to purchase a ticket to establish a contract."

(** Amended by Schedule 2 under regulation 5 (5) of the Unfair Terms in Consumer Contracts Regulations 1999.) 

So what was the actual loss by my parking in an almost empty car park after the shops were closed? Nothing!

I also learn that although the car park is managed by ParkingEye, I do not need to deal with ParkingEye I can deal with the land owner (in the same way that I can deal with BBC instead of TV Licensing).

The driver will be identified (to ParkingEye) and after that I will have fun drawing the other points to them one at a time. I will leave the legal capacity of the actual driver in being able to enter into a contract till the very end. I will post updates on my blog.

A repeat demand addressed the actual driver was received today. The driver has no business relationship with ParkingEye and has elected to ignore the notice.

Tricky

An answer to Dicky, by Robert Graves is Tricky, by Sam Liddicott

First the original poem, and then the answer.

DICKY by ROBERT GRAVES

Mother:
Oh, what a heavy sigh!
Dicky, are you ailing?

Dicky:
Even by this fireside, mother,
My heart is failing.

To-night, across the down,
   Whistling and jolly,
I sauntered out from town
   With my stick of holly.

Bounteous and cool from sea
   The wind was blowing,
Cloud shadows under the moon
   Coming and going.

I sang old roaring songs,
   Ran and leaped quick,
And turned home by St. Swithin's
   Twirling my stick.

And there as I was passing
   The churchyard gate,
An old man stopped me, 'Dicky,
   You're walking late.'

I did not know the man,
   I grew afeared
At his lean, lolling jaw,
   His spreading beard,

His garments old and musty,
   Of antique cut,
His body very lean and bony,
   His eyes tight shut.

Oh, even to tell it now
   My courage ebbs...
His face was clay, mother,
   His beard, cobwebs.

In that long horrid pause
   'Good-night,' he said,
Entered and clicked the gate,
   'Each to his bed.'

Mother:
Do not sigh or fear, Dicky.
   How is it right
To grudge the dead their ghostly dark
   And wan moonlight?

We have the glorious sun,
   Lamp and fireside.
Grudge not the dead their moon-beams
   When abroad they ride.

In my poem, I wished to tell the other side of a perhaps less fearful story.
Thinks aren't always what they seem, and sometimes, not even that.

Tricky, by Sam Liddicott

Uncle:
Oh, what a merry sound!
Ricky, are you chuckling?

Ricky:
This evening by this fire,
Uncle, My heart is laughing.

To-night, across the down,
   Whistling and jolly,
From town young Dicky sauntered
   With a stick of holly.

Bounteous and cool from sea
   The wind was blowing,
Cloud shadows under the moon
   Coming and going.

He sang old roaring songs,
   Ran, and leaping quick,
He turned home by St. Swithin's
   Twirling his stick.

And there as he was passing
   The churchyard gate,
Greeting him, I said: 'Dicky,
   You're walking late.'

I think he did not know me,
   He looked afeared
And my jaw, open fell,
   My theatre beard!

This outfit old and musty,
   Of antique cut!
I rocked in silent laugher,
   My eyes tight shut.

Oh, even to tell it now
   My humour rises...
His face was petrified,
   by costume trousers!

After an awkward pause
   'Good-night,' I said,
Passing through the churchyard gate,
   'Each to his bed.'

Uncle:
Do not laugh at fear, Ricky.
   How is it right
To terrify a little lad
   in the moonlight?

When by the glorious sun,
   Lamp and fireside.
 He knows you as a friend; so:
   Do not deride.

The Witness

© 2012 Sam Liddicott

The assistant administrator was roaming the gardens looking for witnesses, so I thought I had better oblige. I was taken to an interview room that seemed to be serving as a sort of pre-filing room (though it may have been the other way around).

The assistant offered to fetch me a cup of tea and his secretary quickly returned with a warm milky concoction with too much sugar which must have been prepared for someone else earlier. There was a little lipstick around the rim so I suspected it had been used. I did not touch it.

Paying no attention, the assistant flipped open a pad and retrieved a silver ball point pen from his inside pocket. It was then that I realised he was only the assistant administrator. The administrator had a gold pen.

"I will take down your statement" he declared with as little interest as he could muster.

"Name?"

I gave my name

"Occupation?"

"Author"

"I've never heard of you!" he said triumphantly (and little too confidently, I thought).

"I write fiction." I countered, which seemed to satisfy him. I mentioned politely that had never heard of him, but he did not give me his name.

"Address?"

"Flat 6, 24 Bolsanger Place, Prate"

"Surely you mean Bolsanger Square, Prest?" glared the assistant. Bolsanger Square was in a run down district which he perhaps felt was more suited to an author he had never heard of.

"If you prefer" I responded. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it.

I watched as the assistant administrator struggled with the spelling of Bolsanger. In a country with a complicated history, a few obscure names always remain to point the way for the historians.

"I could write it for you?" I offered.

The assistant handed me the pad. "Please press firmly" he directed, offering me his pen. He paused for a moment and thought the better of it, calling for the secretary to fetch me a pen. It took some moments to find one that worked. At last a working pen was found, although there was a little lipstick - as a sort of garnish around the thoughtful little tooth marks and the end. I tried not to notice.

"Try to remember to press firmly" urged the assistant, quite unnecessarily I thought. But I didn't want to cause trouble, so I went back re-writing the entire address "Flat 6, 24 Bolsanger Place, Prate" very firmly.

I returned the pad to the assistant. He noted my disagreement with his opinion of my address, but said nothing.

"What was the first thing you observed?" he demanded?

I thought for a moment. "When I was five," I said, "I recall a hanging decoration in my bedroom window. They were birds, I don't recall which."

"After the noise!" he cried in exasperation.

"There was no noise," I said, "we lived in the country you see, and although there was a horse that rather suffered from indigestion..."

The assistant sighed at me as if I were being troublesome on purpose. He began to exert his professional patience. I could see why he had been made an official.

"The noise which startled the gardener," he said, "on which you are here to make a statement - causing him to..."

I looked at him. Why hadn't he said so before?

"Yes, the noise," I said, "that noise. Causing the gardener to..." - I paused.

"To lose control of the automatic mower!" cried the assistant in an pained voice.  (I could see why he was only an assistant).

"Yes, yes!" I said (why hadn't he mentioned this before?) "Causing him to loose control of the mower!" Now I had something to go on. "Rising from the seat of the automatic mower..."

"Not while it was still moving?" queried the assistant.

"Oh yes," I replied, "it was still moving - he was startled, you see?"

The assistant nodded and started making notes. I paused and after he had caught up he looked at me expectantly.

"He stood up," I repeated, "and struck his head upon a tree branch as the mower passed beneath it"

"Go on" signalled the assistant.

"This knocked him from his seat"

"You said he was standing!" cautioned the assistant. I could see he would soon hold a gold pen in his pocket.

"Yes yes," I said, "he was standing, and knocked from the mower onto the ground." I could see the excitement in his eyes as he continued with his notes. "The mower continued its' direction," - here the assistant looked at me doubtfully - "because the gardeners shoe had caught between the pedal and the steering rod."

"The gardeners foot was no longer in the shoe." I added, seeing the look of worry on the assistants face.

"Of course." he said in a relived tone, "the mower continued on its course"

"And rebounded off the mayors leg." I had meant to say the statue of the mayor before I had been distracted by the assistants interruption, and the assistant had got as far as writing down "the mayors leg" before I realised my error, and so could not correct myself.

"What was the mayor doing there?" the assistant queried.

"How should I know? He doesn't confide in me," I responded, "and never has". At this the assistant regarded me with a look of prematurely terminated respect.

"This is quite serious." the assistant pronounced after some thought. "Go on. The mayor was not injured?"

"The mayor was not injured," I assured, "the mower merely glanced off his leg"

"How could it do that," asked the assistant, "if it were headed towards him? It would surely cause some serious injury from the blades."

I rather wished he would make his mind up. First he wants an uninjured mayor and then he wants the mayor to suffer a some serious injury inflicted by an uncontrolled automatic cutting machine. It was difficult to satisfy him on account of the mayor no longer standing on a stone pedastal, but I had the answer. "It was because of the knee length riding boots." I said.

"Riding boots!" - this clearly shocked the assistant. "The mayor does not ride! He cannot ride - and will not, ever since the incident - I was present - at which he..."

Here I interrupted. I was not interested in the incident at which the assistant administrator was present, and his promptings were beginning to prove more than a little difficult. "The mayor does not confide in me!" I repeated, "How should I know why he was wearing knee length riding boots." I paused. "It may have been for the photograph"

"Photograph?" the assistant queried with interest.

"There was a photographer present. Did I not mention that?" I asked.

"You did not" responded the assistant with slight annoyance, and resumed taking notes more fervently.

"He was from a national newspaper," I continued, "at least I think he may have been. It's hard to tell."

The assistant paled slightly, and his writing continued at a furious pace. "Who else was there?" he asked.

"The mayors wife," I said, and after some thought, "and I think the regional commissioner." but after seeing the effect this last statement had on the assistant I quickly added "but I could not be sure about that. He may have only been the deputy regional commissioner after all". (One doesn't want to over do things with an assistant administrator).

"What occurred next?" prompted the assistant once he had caught up in the notes.  "After the mower..." here he paused to read the notes "rebounded from the mayors riding boots"

"He said: You silly ass!" I replied.

"The regional commissioner called the mayor a silly ass..." the assistant repeated to himself as he wrote.

"No no," I said, "you have it wrong. The mayor is the one that said: You silly ass!"

"What? To the regional commissioner?" asked the assistant in a horrified voice, hands raised.

"No, to the gardener-" I replied, "but he was behind the commissioner, and so the commissioner thought the mayor was talking to him and took great offence."

"The regional commissioner... This is very serious indeed" the assistant said again. I could see he was struggling to control his emotion.

"Yes," I said, "the commissioner thought it was very serious too. He said: This is very serious, do you not realise I have a position of highest authority?"

"Did he? Is that what he said?" asked the assistant.

I assured him that it was. "What else could he say?" I asked. The assistant agreed.

When he had caught up again, he asked: "How did the mayor respond?"

"He was very embarrassed, when he realised the mistake. He said: No, no, not you!" The assistant wrote this down.

"And the regional commissioner?" - he paused, unable to go on.

"The commissioner," I added, "said: I do, I assure you, I report directly to the national policy office. You see he thought the mayor was questioning his authority..." I explained.

The assistant paused with his hands over his eyes and took a deep breath. "And what did the mayor do?"

"He apologised in a most humble manner, explaining that he was referring to the gardener, on account of being struck in the sides of the leg by the rotating blades of an automatic mowing machine."

"How did the regional commissioner take this?"

"He accepted the explanation," I said, "he was very moved by it. He laughed until tears came to his eyes, and he slapped the mayor on the back. The commissioner is known for his sense of humour, is he not?" I asked the assistant.

The assistant said that he thought he was - but without conviction. "What of the mower?" he asked.

"It rebounded from the leg of the mayor"

"Yes yes," interrupted the assistant, "what then?"

I resented the interruption, so I continued as fast as I could and waited for the assistant to catch up. "It carved a path through the main memorial flower bed" (I had actually seen the path which it had taken) "and continued through the annual picnic for sick orphans and then out into the road where it caused a minor accident or two, one of which involved an empty green grocers cart before coming to a halt outside the post office. The gardener was found to be unhurt after being revived by two or three restorative drinks."

After reviewing the notes, the assistant asked "Did you notice the source of the noise that startled the gardener?".

The waiting for the assistant to catch up had restored my calm, so I went on: "I think it was the guns".

"The guns!" exclaimed the assistant. He had stopped writing so I provided more information to stimulate him to continue.

"They were directed at the gardener," I responded with magnificent aplomb. "when the were fired."

The assistant sat back in his seat and stared at me. I looked towards the pad of paper and he quickly resumed his writing.

"They were firing blanks" I responded - before he could asked his next question - "for the photograph."

The assistant looked at me with reluctantly diminished excitement, and continued writing. I think I detected a glint of admiration in his expression.

"In summary," said the assistant, once he had finished his notes, "While the regional commissioner, the mayor and his wife were firing guns for a photograph in front of the city hall, they startled the gardener who fell from the municipal automatic mowing machine which struck the mayor in the leg causing no injury and the regional commissioner found the whole thing very funny."

I said that he had got the gist of it correctly but that I thought that the mayors wife was not carrying a gun. The assistant administrator seemed very pleased, and I signed the statement with great satisfaction.

The administrator then entered the room carrying his gold pen.  "Good, good," he said, looking over at the assistant, "we have found two other witnesses who are also giving statements about the ...".

I immediately arose and tore the page from off the top of the pad and fled the room as quickly as I could.

Why hadn't they told me they had found other witnesses? I would not have been so anxious to help. I used my statement rather unsuccessfully to light my pipe before leaving by the back gates.

It was only later that I learned that the witness pad was in triplicate, and that I had only torn out the top copy. As I had been so helpful to override the assistant with my correct address they were pleased to find and inform me that by signing the statement the charges were raised from the nuisance of wasting official time, to making a false statement - which I think is rather unfair as I did warn them from the start that I was an author.

I heard later that the gardener had been drinking a concoction that he brews in an old petrol cannister, and when ordered to immediately remove the recently renewed memorial flowerbed in preparation for an inspection by the new regional administrator he was so inebriated that the lawn mower was his tool of choice.