THE QUARREL

Amberley and his wife were walking towards the hospital entrance. Parking was always difficult there. Amberley noticed that a small woman and a female nurse were having to push a wheelchair up the road to another wing, because the footpath was blocked by parked cars parked on double-yellow lines and right on the kerb. Despite his advanced years, Amberley felt his hackles rise as he saw yet another car mount the pavement and park. The driver got out. He was a large, belligerent-looking middle-aged man with a fierce beak for a nose and a pair of wilful piggy eyes. Amberley walked up to him and said “You should be locked up, parking here. Look at that poor nurse having to push the wheelchair up the middle of the road. See how dangerous that is?” The big stranger clenched and unclenched his large gnarled fist and set his large jaw. “Are you talking to me?” “Of course, I’m talking to you. You’re the thoughtless one who is endangering people’s lives by parking there.” The big stranger paused to take all this in for a moment then replied, with some asperity, “Listen, Grandad. I’ve been driving round and round this bloody hospital for fifteen minutes and this is the only place I can park. My son’s lying in there and this is the only slot I can find. I’ve as much right as anyone to park there.” Amberley’s wife tugged at her husband’s sleeve. “Come away, George, we don’t want any trouble.” Amberley reluctantly walked away but, as he did so, yelled over his shoulder “Go and park in the main street over there, and get out of the car park.” “Go to Hell in a hand-cart, you wizened old berk,” was the sharp rejoinder. Nevertheless, when Amberley and his wife returned, they noticed that the big stranger’s car was parked precisely where Amberley had indicated.