The Escher car park

Last Friday, we went with Pascoe and Sophie to see Chekov’s The Seagull at the Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh.

Running low on time, we decided to use a disastrously expensive carpark nearby.  For the price we paid we expected the full service – we should be able to:-

1.      Park the car

2.      Find it still there when we returned

3.      Drive away

The play was excellent – strong performances, atmospheric setting.  We didn’t worry about the car - not with the amount that carpark was costing!

We came out and found the carpark had indeed fulfilled the first two of its three functions. We paid at the machine, emitting a communal gasp as we read the tariff.

But the way we had come in was now shut off with a temporary barrier.  ‘Use other exit.’

‘Where is other exit?’

Pascoe set off on a drive round the carpark, only to arrive back again at the temporary barrier.  He set off once more and after following exit signs more attentively, we still arrived there again. 

We began to wonder if the carpark had been designed by Escher.

Or whether Kafka had written the signage.

We must be missing something in the rain and darkness.

Pascoe set off again, with us all chipping in whenever we spotted a sign, and eventually, by a very circuitous route, we reached the barrier.

But it wouldn’t let us out.  It gave the error message ‘No payment possible.’

‘But we already paid.  Oh boy, did we already pay!’

Pascoe backed out and drove towards the other barrier. This one charged us a further £8 before it would let us out, no doubt a charge racked up for the pleasure of driving round and round a dark wet carpark when all we wanted was to get home.

‘I shall never use that carpark again,’ said Pascoe.

And let us hope he never does!