The “new” car is the fifth I have owned. A lot has changed in the nineteen years since I last bought one.
I switched the insurance policy over the telephone and got the new documentation by e mail in less than an hour. I bought road tax for the new car online. I got a refund on the unexpired road tax for the old car online. I paid for the car online. Now all I had to do was replace the parking permit and this had not changed in nineteen years. First I paid for parking time at a machine. Next I walked to Hammersmith Town Hall where supplicants line up at 9.00 am. We nervously clutched our papers as if we were hoping to get bread coupons in Albania circa 1950. I was 9th in the queue. While I waited I could hear the people ahead of me being processed. I became increasingly anxious as applications were refused. One supplicant had a schedule of motor insurance but not an insurance certificate; another did not have proof of residence; another had made the mistake of selling his car for scrap without retaining the old parking permit; another did not have proof of ownership of the vehicle. To be fair the staff were friendly, efficient but very strict. After half an hour I was at a counter and, to my surprise, I was given a replacement permit without any fault being found with my documentation. I had with me passport, council tax statement, driving licence, insurance documents and a slip confirming me as keeper of the vehicle pending the arrival of the log book.
When I came back from Cranford Park yesterday I couldn’t find my ‘phone. I was certain it had fallen out of my pocket in the park. When I called my number it rang but I couldn’t hear it in the house. Robert suggested I used an app I had forgotten I had: Find My iPhone. It located the ‘phone towards the back of the house but I still couldn’t find it. Then Robert found a way of making the ‘phone squeak and there it was, lying like a chameleon on the black leather seat of a chair in the study with the ringer switched off.