At a ripe old age, I get my first parking ticket. Ever. And it’s unfair (of course)

I had to be in London early this morning. The trains being what the trains are at the moment here south of London means that to be sure of arriving early means I need to leave very early. I wanted to catch the 6:24, not from my local station, but from the one on the more direct line to London.

I drove to the station. This is something I probably do about once every two years. I was pleased to see that the station car park was relatively empty and I managed to park easily close to one of the pay and display machines.

I was less pleased by the fact that there was only one tariff: £6:50 for the whole day. I didn’t plan on staying in London for the whole day but at least I didn’t have to worry about rushing back — and relying on unreliable trains — to meet a deadline for an expiring ticket.

So I had my day in London. Half a day, anyway. I arrived back in the middle of the afternoon to find I had been given a parking ticket.

Had I paid an incorrect amount? No.

Had I parked in a disabled bay or something similar? No.

Had my ticket dropped from view, so that an inspector could not see it? No.

What I had done was to take an early train. And dared to use the car park. Seriously.

I was fined because, before 9am, only season ticket holders are allowed to use the station car park. I had intruded on some sort of privilege. Despite the fact that the machine was happy to take my money and to print me a ticket, that wasn’t good enough. To catch an early train and use the car park I need to purchase at the very least a weekly parking ticket.

Obviously, the ploy is to reduce capacity on the trains. Cancelling 134 services recently was not enough for Southern: they really want to cancel passengers. Casual passengers, at least.

My trip to London was expensive enough at £29.80 for a peak travel card. Adding £66.50 (if I pay within 14 days) for parking is taking the piss.

It is the little things that start to grind you down. The petty fines for honest and seemingly harmless mistakes (or what might be called common sense expectations) that cause seeping despair.

Right. Tomorrow, as the owner of a recently destroyed southern mansion once said, is another day.