I currently have a -recommended builder gutting and replacing my kitchen, so on Saturday I had to forge several documents and signatures in order to get him some parking permits from the local council. They run a series of parking shops across the borough, but my local one has recently closed, presumably after a massive parking slump in the area. So back up to Balham High Road, where I waved to the bear (see below) and went into the parking shop, to be confronted by a big sign saying “Motorists are liable to receive a fine if they park illegally whilst visiting the Parking Shop”, which must rank as one of the smuggest public notices I've ever seen.

Sunday lunch was taken at Jenny's mum's, where the traditional roast was enlivened by the presence of a racist friend of the family, whose bigotry was particularly evident by his repeated uttering of the phrase “I'm not racist, but…” After we'd polished off a particularly tasty lemon tart, he came out with a classic of the genre: “So this chap came up to me, enormous he was, about 6'6″ – and the only way I could possibly describe him is some kind of half-breed.” Previous encounters with this chap have taught us just to look down at the floor while he gets this kind of thing out of his system, so we dutifully did just that. His punishment was to be deprived of our company while we crowded into the kitchen to wash up, insisting that he stayed in the next room to ponder the fact that he's “the only white face in Palmers Green these days.”

Monday saw an impromptu trip to Teddington Lock, where we watched people fishing next to No Fishing signs, and children playing on grass next to Please Keep Off The Grass Signs. After making the requisite citizens arrests, we considered the advanced firefighting systems of Teddington Lock:

and then walked the few miles up to Richmond, where the tide had come in rather hurriedly, causing someone's car to become partially submerged. People flocked from miles around, taking particular delight in the swankiness of the car and the immense cost of potential repair, while the owner stood, forlornly toting a carrier bag, unwilling to swim across 8 feet of muddy water – no matter how loud the cheers might have been.