Estating the obvious

"Hello. I'd like a parking space in my estate for my new car please. Is there a waiting list?" asked I, to the able estate parking department of Tower Hamlets.

"Where do you live?" she asked, quite reasonably. I told her, but I won't tell you, for fear you will stalk me, thus giving me a taste of my own well-deserved medicine. Ha! You lose.

"That shouldn't be a problem," she told me.

"Great," I said. "Is there a waiting list?"

"Yes," she replied.

"How long is it?" I asked.

"I don't know; I don't have it in front of me."

"I kind of meant in terms of time - are we talking a few weeks, or a month, or six months?" I asked.

"Oh, well you won't get a space immediately."

"OK," I said. "But do you have a rough idea how long it generally takes?"

"We've just had some back," she said.

"Sorry?" I asked.

"Yes. We've just had some back. It's unusual."

"How do you mean?"

"Some spaces have been returned. There are lots at the minute. You can have one. But you'll have to join the waiting list."

I was confused. I gave up. "Can you send me the forms?"

"Oh, that takes ages. It has to be issued by us, then go in our internal mail, and it'll go out second class to you."

"How long will it take?" I asked.

"Ages. About eight days."

"That's fine," I said. "My car isn't due until mid-December."

"You've got ages," she said. "When you get the car, you can join the waiting list."

"But where shall I park it in the meantime? I was hoping to join the list now, so the space would be ready for when the car arrives."

"If it comes on a Friday," the parking woman continued, "you should be OK until Monday. But don't quote me on that."

Great. Clear. As. Mud. Is everyone's life as confusing as mine?