I'M the person you walk into who apologises.

I am the person who will cancel her plans and babysit so you can go out. I will cat sit, house sit and granny sit. I am the person who will swap shifts with you even if it's an inconvenience. I am the most amenable lady you'll come across.

I'm also a leaver of angry, anonymous notes.

Sarah Metcalfe, a student from York, parked in a disabled bay at her local Tesco, despite not having a disabled parking badge. She returned to her vehicle to find a note attached to the windscreen: "Being fat and ugly doesn't count as disabled. (Park elsewhere)." Now, then.

While I might not agree with the delivery - a polite "Where's your disabled badge?" would have sufficed - I agree with the method. Ms Metcalfe has a chronic pain condition, fibromyalgia, and decided a disabled bay was best for her. Without the presence of a blue badge a casual eye would see a driver abusing a disabled space. One such casual eye decided to call her out on it.

I should feel more sympathy for Ms Metcalfe. I once parked at Easterhouse train station and returned to my car to find a note jotted off by workmen in the employ of a well-kent housebuilder: "Park somewhere else STUPID WOMAN." Frustratingly, they were wrong and I was parked just fine.

The memory of that impotent fury is what makes me always ensure I'm in the right before note writing.

On the rare occasion I take my car into the public car park near my office there's always a bit of satisfying correcting to be done. Sometimes it's been done for me. Example: on a low slung sports car abandoned across two spaces, "Learn how to park your sh*tey go-kart."

Drivers very often park across the entrance barrier to our office car park. Those drivers will always return to a stern note. Ditto drivers who park so close to your car that you have to climb in through the passenger side.

There is a great satisfaction to explaining the flaws of others in a witty manner, picturing them finding the note, feeling ashamed yet grateful at having their misdeeds explained to them and vowing never to repeat their sin. I'm pretty sure that's how it plays out once the driver returns to their vehicle. I've never stuck around to find out.

I admire the quality of stationery used in the York note attack. It was proper notebook paper with purple trim and a pair of swanky, stripey high heels nestled at the bottom. I tend to use whatever scrap paper I have handy in my car or bits torn from magazines. If there is to be a lesson learned from Ms Metcalfe's tale it is to have a dedicated notebook to hand and a sharp pen ready.

I am an angry anonymous note leaver and I am not ashamed.