By Simon Burchett - Whiff of Wilderness
Once upon a time, and I’m not making this up, Folkestone seafront was home to the greatest market in Kent. You parked. You wandered. You bought things you didn’t need. You went home happy. Nobody cried. Nobody needed a laminated flowchart.
Today, however, that same stretch of seafront has been transformed into a place where parking is no longer an activity, but a test of moral character.
Before you can leave your car, you are required to read a sign that appears to have been designed by a committee of people who don’t speak to one another, don’t like one another, and actively resent the concept of clarity.
From April to September, you may park, but only between certain hours, unless you have a permit, or you don’t, in which case you may pay, but only for five hours, and absolutely do not return within two, unless you enjoy funding the council Christmas party.
From October to March, the rules are almost identical, except they are written slightly differently, purely to make you question whether you understood the first bit, or indeed anything, ever.
Then, just as your confidence begins to return, the sign casually informs you that if your vehicle weighs more than 7.5 tonnes, you may not park at all.
Except on weekdays.
Except at night.
Except not at weekends.
Except at any time.
At this point, most people give up and simply stand there staring at the pole, hoping a man in a hi-viz vest appears to explain what year it is.
This isn’t parking regulation.
This is bureaucratic jazz.
It’s Britain’s modern approach in a nutshell: instead of welcoming people, we challenge them. Instead of common sense, we deploy signage. And instead of encouraging life, trade, and footfall, we create an environment where the boldest act on the seafront is committing to a parking decision.
And when you inevitably get it wrong, the council will say:
“Well, the sign was very clear.”
No.
It wasn’t.
It was a riddle wrapped in a calendar, inside a weight limit, buried beneath the corpse of a once-great market.
Welcome to Folkestone.
Please enjoy your stay — but don’t come back within two hours.