By James Nally

In the 2001 census Egham’s population was declared at 5274, a number increasingly overwhelmed by the daily migration of students, shoppers and office workers. The survival of Egham and its character thrives on the highly competitive desire and necessity for parking.

The High Street presents a wobbly approach to bay parking. With the unsympathetic watches of Traffic Wardens, the twittering cacophonies of Tesco-Pigeons meandering through available bays and the nauseating realization of encountering a volatile curb, fuelling distaste. Any flick of the indicator provokes a carnal scramble, more commonplace in the Savannah, with every passing car encompassing stares of avarice as the merry-go-round persists.

The hypnotizing web of backstreets and the dizzy, adolescent temptation to swiftly defy the one way system soon induces a manic and sweaty hysteria. A suspect trail of debris from a mangled mirror issues a territorial message of residential exile, now popularly conveyed by the subtle repositioning of an abducted road cone.

An attempted breach of the private car parks is met with a resolute and unabashed slam and the pursuing entanglement of college wheel-spinners and suit-clad permit holders condemns efforts to the dun grey complexion of the pay and display. The shambolic parking of ‘everyone else’ reserves a grubby spot in the corner, complete with rusted trolley.

Although the shortcomings of parking in Egham may provide some irritation, perhaps a small contribution of loose change to a town which provides so much in education, employment and commercial convenience is a price, ultimately, worth paying.