Gloom in the car park

Nicola, Pete, Lola and Nell want to travel the world with a difference. We hope to get a taste of many countries without adding to climate change (with needless emissions from aeroplanes) or having to waste hours of holiday time in airport terminals. We hope our adventures inspire you to take a Grand Tour of your neighbourhood whatever the weather. This post is from Nicola

Borrowing and renting cars seems to be making my already poor parking skills far worse. Every car is a different size, obviously, and every county seems to have a different approach to parking though from the Borders south paying for use is pretty much obligatory. Switching bikes is just as complicated on the gear front, but parking is a doddle.

And so it is at a South Hams car park after a day on a Devon beach that I am ashamed to find a #70 fine on my rental car. I have failed to park its wheels within the white lines of one box. Bustards. It’s a punishment that reminds me we are now in the over-crowded south east (well south west) where every bit of space has a bigger value than you’d think.

Lola’s always asking what it’s like to be a grown-up and now I can tell her. It’s about knowing sets of invisible rules that must be obeyed (or you are fined) whilst carrying out tonnes of shockingly dull and monotonous tasks (eg, cleaning). As this makes being an adult so unattractive I tend to focus on the good bits like making your own decisions about when to go to bed and what food to eat. But Lola knows that’s not much more exciting than a bit after her, and pasta.