Car parking and other hazards

Saturday 20 March 2021


She took it pretty well.

“I’m really sorry, that was me,“ I ventured when she returned to her car. “I’ll pay for the damage, no problem.”

Her name was Vicky. She was dark haired, probably late twenties and had a soft Irish accent. We inspected the scrape I had inflicted on her vehicle, a red Honda Jazz, in the B&Q car park. I explained that the parking space was very tight and I had damaged her car when reversing out to find a bigger space. But that wasn’t an excuse. The fault was mine, pure and simple.

I gave her my details so that she could send me the bill in due course. On closer inspection there seemed to be damage only to the paintwork – a handsome streak down the back of her car – but no dent to the bodywork, so hopefully not too expensive. I apologised again before leaving.

It’s been a long time, perhaps twenty years, since I had any sort of accident or incident in a car that was my fault. I believe it’s Parkinson’s that made the difference: hands trembling on the steering wheel today, and not paying proper attention.

It’s not just car parking that I find increasingly challenging. There are lots of little day to day things that are frustrating. Like frequently dropping things in the kitchen. Or needing to use a spoon to eat when previously a knife and fork would have been sufficient. Or fumbling with my food shopping at the self-service checkout whilst the queue grows behind me. Or being late for my first meeting of the day because it took ages to button my shirt.

But it’s cognitive decline I worry about the most. I had gone to B&Q to get some lightbulbs. After the car parking incident, I got home to discover that I had bought the wrong ones: screwcap instead of bayonet cap. An easy enough mistake, but one I suspect I wouldn’t have made if I didn’t have Parkinson’s. 

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