Wrote this a couple of years ago but never got any response so I had to pay the fine

Dear Parking Services

I’m writing to contest a recent parking fine/attack on civil liberties. My PCN Number is ————— and my Motor Vehicle Registration is ———-.

It was Monday the 23rd of January 2012, and I was a younger more naïve man. I was driving around for a space and saw a sign that read, “Permit holders only OR 2 hours No return.”

“Hmm,” I said to myself. “I may not be a permit holder but I could do with two hours. A man can do a lot with two hours.” I actually said this out loud – I had left my voice recorder running as I was in the process of dictating my memoirs. I only discovered this later that evening when I was playing it for the scrutiny of my dinner guests.

Terry was baffled by the interruption and even spilled some of his port into his beef gravy. On hearing the “A man can do a lot with two hours” line, Delilah squeezed my shoulder and said suggestively, “Yes he can.” She said this as a dramatic whisper, as if it were meant for my ears only but she actually said it loud enough for the whole party to enjoy. The table collectively raised their eyebrows.

Delilah’s a doll, and between you and me, Parking Services, she makes for a great romp in the hay, but there isn’t enough between her ears to fill a sandwich. I give it another two months before I make for the South of France, leaving only a bedside note for a goodbye. She’ll cry for maybe a fortnight then move on, she’s an attractive girl.

I parked the car up expertly, rechecking the sign for peace of mind. “Two hours,” I said to myself. “Two hours.” I was situated on the corner of Desborough and Wells Place, opposite a Nail Salon. I waved to the owner, George, through the window and he came out to meet me. I was only being polite, but what could I do?

He was two steps out the door before his foot caught on some uneven tarmac, a sloppily finished job, left without consideration for falls such as these. And oh how he fell! His beautifully manicured hands reached out to save himself, his elaborate nails breaking on impact.

I rushed over to meet him and turned him over, holding him in my arms. “George!” I said uselessly. “Oh George!” I said again. His lips moved but no words were issued.

I brought his face up to meet mine, and this time I heard him, “Permit holders only Or two hours No return.” He repeated the sign exactly, capital letters and all, one of his uncanny talents. I smelt Satsuma on his breath, and knew that he couldn’t have fallen from any kind of Vitamin C deficiency. He was going to be OK.

I returned an hour and forty-five minutes later, with a caffeinated spring in my step and my right arm laden with secondhand books from Oxfam, bought at full price. My pace slowed when I approached my car, something was amiss.

I fell into a run, my legs, two pistons of fury pumped like mechanical horse legs until I arrived at my car. Awaiting me was an envelope of forbidding green. If only it were red and I were a little unmarried Chinese boy on New Year, then I would be happy. But it was not red and I was not Chinese. It was the green of Eastleigh Borough Council Parking Services.

“No!” I screamed, holding the envelope aloft. “NOOOOOO!”

Based on the evidence given, is there any way you could reconsider the fine?

Thanks in advance

In Your Service

Khyan Mansley

glitteryhighway asked:

Do you have any tips for kicking the shit out of writer's block?

I can only speak from my own experience, but I find Writer’s Block tends to arise from one of two things: 1. Too much pressure on self to write something good. 2. Not actually enjoying what I’m writing. 

If I were writing a short story or article or whatever, and I realise 1. is happening, which sort of feels like a psychic constipation, then I’ll often open a fresh document and focus on the paragraph that’s giving me grief. I might try and write it again from scratch, and just give myself permission to express it however it comes, without trying to make it good, and thinking that I probably won’t use it. What often happens is that it will be better than expected, or I can take some element of it. I often end up writing each paragraph in separate documents, so that I can give my full attention to them, and not get distracted by constantly rereading what I’ve already written. 

I’m often quite slow to identify when 2 is occurring. For me, if I’m going to write every day, then I have to enjoy it, and I think when you’re finding the experience very dull, it’s probably not going to be very good, either. For me it’s a sign to start again with a fresh approach. 

There is only one inborn error, and that is the notion that we exist in order to be happy. So long as we persist in this inborn error, the world seems to us full of contradictions. For at every step, in great things and small, we are bound to experience that the world and life are certainly not arranged for the purpose of maintaining happiness. So much would be gained if through timely advice and instruction all young people could have eradicated from their minds once and for all the foolish notion that the world has a great deal to offer them.
The World as Will and Representation [1844] - Arthur Schopenhauer
humansofnewyork
humansofnewyork:

"I’ve been a deep believer my whole life. 18 years as a Southern Baptist. More than 40 years as a mainline Protestant. I’m an ordained pastor. But it’s just stopped making sense to me. You see people doing terrible things in the name of religion, and you think: ‘Those people believe just as strongly as I do. They’re just as convinced as I am.’ And it just doesn’t make sense anymore. It doesn’t make sense to believe in a God that dabbles in people’s lives. If a plane crashes, and one person survives, everyone thanks God. They say: ‘God had a purpose for that person. God saved her for a reason!’ Do we not realize how cruel that is? Do we not realize how cruel it is to say that if God had a purpose for that person, he also had a purpose in killing everyone else on that plane? And a purpose in starving millions of children? A purpose in slavery and genocide? For every time you say that there’s a purpose behind one person’s success, you invalidate billions of people. You say there is a purpose to their suffering. And that’s just cruel."

humansofnewyork:

"I’ve been a deep believer my whole life. 18 years as a Southern Baptist. More than 40 years as a mainline Protestant. I’m an ordained pastor. But it’s just stopped making sense to me. You see people doing terrible things in the name of religion, and you think: ‘Those people believe just as strongly as I do. They’re just as convinced as I am.’ And it just doesn’t make sense anymore. It doesn’t make sense to believe in a God that dabbles in people’s lives. If a plane crashes, and one person survives, everyone thanks God. They say: ‘God had a purpose for that person. God saved her for a reason!’ Do we not realize how cruel that is? Do we not realize how cruel it is to say that if God had a purpose for that person, he also had a purpose in killing everyone else on that plane? And a purpose in starving millions of children? A purpose in slavery and genocide? For every time you say that there’s a purpose behind one person’s success, you invalidate billions of people. You say there is a purpose to their suffering. And that’s just cruel."