I rang my boy. He was in the supermarket with Oscar, my 15-month-old grandson, spending his last 50p on four ‘basics’ toilet rolls, he said. The toilet rolls cost 48p. It was a good job, he said, that he had nine cigarettes left in his packet to last him until his partner’s pay cheque from the government arrived.
Ten minutes later, I received a text from him. The usual one — ‘can u ring me pls’. He’s never got any credit on his phone so he texts me and I call him right back. I called him. He and Oscar were in the back of a police car, he said. He was being cautioned and fined for having no car insurance. Could I come and give them a lift home? He was outside the school, he said.
When I got there, it was as though a major incident had occurred. In front of the school entrance two police cars were parked askew, their blue lights still revolving, as though they’d arrived in a hurry, and three cops in flak jackets were standing around looking important. My boy was standing beside the kerb holding the baby, and two of his partner’s three kids, solemn with excitement, were standing beside him.
The pushchair and the economy toilet rolls went in the boot of my car, the kids piled on to the back seat. My boy’s cheeks were red with embarrassment. He’d been cautioned right in front of the headmaster — he was supervising the bus queue — and all the waiting mums, he said.
An officer had handed him a fixed-penalty ticket for £200 and said he was going to take the car away. It would be stored at a cost of £50 per day, until my boy could present them with a valid insurance document and the £200 fine.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in