Yellow Car

And it was bright yellow. You couldn't miss it. Unless you were a big lorry trying to get round the Three Tuns corner from the bridge, in which case it was exactly in the way. When I passed it on my way to lunch, there were two notes under the windscreen wipers saying that the car was parked dangerously and illegally, and that it had already brought Hay to a standstill. The third note under the windscreen wipers was the parking ticket, and the traffic warden was hanging around waiting to talk to the driver.
He was still hanging around an hour later when I walked back up the road, and I was told that the car had been there at least an hour when I first passed it. I noticed one or two people up and down the street who were looking out to see what happened when the driver finally turned up. I know I wasn't the only person who walked past, saw the notes, and said "Oh, Good." Watching lorries, and coaches and tractors with trailers and all the other big vehicles that have to come across the bridge into Hay as they struggle round the corner may be a spectator sport along Broad Street, but it's one where we're all on the side of the lorry drivers and against the selfish, inconsiderate people who park on double yellow lines.