There's no known cure for the fear of losing your parking space

If not, there should be… and everyone who displays the symptoms of this condition should seek help immediately. I recommend the application of a hand, at great speed, across the top of the head. But then I’m no medical expert.

Working from my living room, I witnessed the neighbours across the road move from early onset parking space dysmorphia to the full blown lunacy of advanced stage PSD.

Off they’d pootle, only to return and find ‘their’ space taken. Of course, there’s no allocated parking - just the usual first-come, first-served chaos. No big deal. We all do it.

As soon as that space became free, they would pop out and move their car back into the space. Fine? Erm, not really.

After a while I noticed that they’d begun to obsess about the space. Even if they were two car parking spaces along, they’d still jump out of the front door and manoeuvre the car into ‘their’ spot when it became available. ‘What! You can’t walk the lengths of two cars?’ I’d think to myself.

The nadir of this obsessive compulsive parking disorder (OCPD, I’m determined to give it a name) was when I saw them park next to a car outside their front door and then, when that car left, reversed their vehicle about 12ft back into the space!

They were obsessed - but then, so was I. Whenever they left their house in the car, I found myself desperately wishing someone would park in their space. Oh the joy when someone did. Back the neighbours would return. Park further up the street and return home, but not without stopping and giving this ‘rogue’ vehicle evil eyes, scanning up and down the street in the hope of spotting the offender. What they were going to do to them, I don’t know. Skin them? Mount their head on a stick as a warning to others? Wouldn’t put it past them.

My moment of awakening was when one day, still giggling manically at ‘their’ parking spot being taken during a particularly busy day, they had no choice but to… park outside my front door! Which, of course, they are perfectly entitled to do. The cheeky buggers.

I’ve since moved out (not because of the parking I hasten to add) and into my current life-partner’s abode. Same parking rules, same parking lunacy. My partner is equally possessive of the oblong patch of tarmac outside her front door.

I suggested we drive into town to do some shopping. She gave my idea some considerable thought before exclaiming: ‘But we’ll lose our parking space, I mean, we’re parked right outside the front door.’

Whatever the medical name for this condition might be, it’s clearly contagious. And possibly terminal.