Proving I do exist

Which is great news, because presumably I no longer need to pay council tax, or any other sort of tax come to that. I probably won't need to go to the dentist, put the bins out or bother buying food. I might even get away with not turning up to work as I'm no longer here.

I certainly won't need to do any housework because, even if I cling on to a glimmer of existence, my house has certainly gone up in smoke.

I know this because Swindon Borough Council told me so.

It all started when a friend was visiting and was becoming increasingly disgruntled about playing musical cars - having to get up to move the motor before 8am to a car park, pay for a few hours, move again... and so on, over the course of several days.

"I'll get some visitor parking permits," I said.

"About bloody time," said the friend. Or words to that effect.

My first port of call was that newfangled mystery called the internet.

The council's website has one of those auto-fill forms for your address where you pop your house number and postcode in and, bingo bango, up pops your address.

Nope. My postcode is not recognised. It turns out my entire street has dropped off Swindon Council's radar.

Next port of call: the telephone. Much muzak and soothing tones of 'all our operators are busy...' later, I get through. Only the lady on the end of the line can't hear me and tells me to hang up and call back. Rinse and repeat.

Finally, when I get to speak to a human, she tells me my postcode is not on their system.

"But I live here!" I cry.

"How long for?" she says, with a tone in her voice which says she thinks I'm having her on.

"Ten years!" I cry, looking around my sitting room as if to reassure myself this really is my home and it really does exist because I'm standing in it.

"Mmmm," she says. "I don't think you're eligible for parking."

What?! I live in a parking zone and if I had a car I wouldn't be able to park? And if I have visitors with cars, they're not allowed to get out and park somewhere? Instead they have to do drive-by visits, in which they simply wave and shout 'hello!' as they whizz by me standing in the doorway of my imaginary house?

To make the situation even more unfathomable, I've bought visitors' permits before, about five or six years ago. And me, my house and my street definitely existed then, even in the Kafkaesque world of Swindon Council.

Also, I pay my council tax - for this address. And I receive a postal vote - at this address. So I can pay taxes and vote but I can't park.

I was told to email the parking department and announce my existence and someone would call me to take payment early this week.

The email I received back confirmed my address doesn't exist on their system and could I pop down to Wat Tyler House with proof of residency? And presumably a trial for witchcraft, since I'm clearly pulling off some sort of mystical coup by both existing and not existing simultaneously.

Dear people at the council - can you not just look in your records at my 10-year history of council tax payments and ballot papers and let me buy my permits? Left hand, may I introduce you to right hand?

• ON a cheerier note of inclusivity rather than the mood of the past couple of weeks which has largely been in-fighting, racism and resignations, have any of you seen the video of 10-year-old Daniel Boyers?

Daniel won a race at his school sports day and the video of his moment of triumph has gone viral.

This is because Daniel, from Ashton-in-Makerfield, has cerebral palsy and was in a plaster cast following recent surgery. He told his mum he didn't want to run in the race because he thought people would laugh at him.

His classmates were having none of it. They slowed down so Daniel could cross the line first and claim the gold medal.

Daniel, who also has learning difficulties, burst into tears and told his mum: "I am so happy I have come first - I have never done it before."

We often comment on how kids can be cruel. But what wonderful friends Daniel has - we could all learn a thing or two from them. Every one of their parents should be bursting with pride.