Yesterday we went to the beach, in Greystones.
There's a handy carpark, next to the beach, and a playground. It's been there a long time, and it's a couple minutes walk outside the town itself.
It seems I haven't been there in a while, as a friend came down to warn us the warden was giving out tickets - oddly he got me, and the friend parked beyond, but not the friend parked in the middle of us.
I was a bit irate as I hadn't seen a sign, the meter had been out of my view. And it's forty bloody euro. I could swallow twenty euro, maybe, with better grace, but forty feels like a rip off to me.
Of course he said he couldn't take them back, though we're told that's only the gardai, the private guys can., Feckers.
However, when I came back to the car and loaded in my tantrumming psycho daughter, I shut the door on the screaming for a second and looked up.
I'd parked right under the giant pay parking sign.
That's why I didn't see it.
You have to laugh, I suppose.