The Notebook? More like I'd rather Not-Book.

Part 2

I park as close to Connor’s house as I can - which actually turns out to not be that close as it’s already chaos down this road. Further up the road would be even more hopeless thanks to all the cheapskates who don’t want to pay the £2.50 for the funfair car park. They just drive around the cul-de-sacs and dump their cars in any space that’s just big enough for their car and within walking distance of the fields. I do not envy anyone who lives within a 2-mile radius of here, especially not when the funfair or circus is in town.
As soon as I climb out of the car I hear my name being shouted and four neon, glowing arms frantically waving at me from down the road. Rachel has definitely gone overboard with the glow-sticks again this year. I put my car key in the lock and for a split second I consider getting back in and driving home. I know I can’t because they’ve already seen me, and my dad doesn’t want me home for the next 2 hours. I have no choice but to lock the doors and wander towards the yellow and pink blurs with voices.

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“Dad, can you please just park in their car park? I have come very well prepared with the £2.50 and you know that the parking is going to be better there than anywhere else because no one else parks there, probably because they don’t all have brilliant kids like me who are willing to use their own, hard earned cash to pay for parking!” I have been debating the parking issue with my father all evening and I think this final statement (and the free parking on his behalf) has finally worn him down enough to allow me win. I hand mum the coins from my pocket and she hands it to the giant, florescent coat out of her window. The coat is stood by a traffic cone and is holding a tub of money. They mumble a few directions, which are barely audible, but dad seems to know where he wants to go anyway.
We pull into a space right underneath a floodlight that must be about 12 feet high. I think dad chose this space because he doesn’t trust the people who work here and he knows that if the car is well lit then there won’t be any ‘funny business’ as he puts it. Either that, or he’s worried that he’s not going to remember where he parked so he’s chosen an easy spot to find at the end of the night.
Either way I’m just really glad  we’re finally here.