I worry too much. Yesterday we went to the seaside. As my mother was with us, I was able to park in a disabled bay in the multistory behind the winter gardens. As we walked away, I saw the sign written on the tarmac "Reserved for wheelchair users." My mother uses a walker, not a wheelchair God forbid, so now I was thinking 'OMG I'm going to be clamped when I get back.'
Stupid isn't it. How could they tell? We have a blue disabled badge in the car.
As we walked towards Weston's Grand Pier, we passed a beach toyshop on the front. Clare saw an enormous beach ball which would make a great present. She spoke to the shopkeeper and he agreed to keep it for us till our return. I paid the four pounds.
As we walked onto the pier, with the crowds enjoying the sun, the gulls wheeling overhead and assorted Star Wars characters being photographed at the entrance, I was thinking this. What, if on our return, the shopkeeper has sold Clare's beachball to someone else, or just denies the transaction ever took place? It was all very informal and I had no receipt. My mind advanced scenarios: arguments, the involvement of the police, throwing the toys out of the shop.
Eventually we returned to the shop where Clare retrieved her purchase without any fuss, then we returned to the car and drove away unscathed.
Is worrying a survival trait, I wonder?
