Since we didn’t have to spend any money on separate accommodation at University, we decided today that it was my turn to start to learn how to drive, so today I started the paper-work to get a temporary driver’s permit. I also provisionally signed up for traffic school, and will start that in a few months time once the application for the license goes through. It’s going to take three months after the provisional license application before I can drive.
I have to say I am of two minds about it; obviously I need to be able to drive. At the moment Mark does all our driving, and it would be useful for us if both of us could. Auntie has already said that she’d let me practise with her. Mark is not allowed to teach me to drive because he’s not 21 and he’s not had his license for three years or more. So, he can’t train me.
Unlike him, I think that I’m going to have to rely more on professional driving instructors. He had his dad to drive with, but with his dad in Wiltshire it’s too far away for me. Auntie is a busy woman, and won’t have as much time. So, I’m looking at a fairly expensive process. But it’s now decided, so the die is cast.
Should I put out public notice, or warnings, in advance?
We spent most of the day on the road today, and this was what led to our talk about my driving, and this was what led to finally making the decision. We visited his parents over in Wiltshire; we drove there this morning, and then drove back again in the afternoon.
It was nice to get out of the house, although our morning started with Watson spraying mud all over the house when he ran out, dove into a mud puddle, and then ran inside and shook the mud all over the lounge. There was mud everywhere. Usually we just have to clean paw marks and things, but now we had drops of mud on the walls.
Watson was the most miserable creature after because he certainly did not intend to bathe in the mud, and he certainly did not like the bath that this resulted in. He spent about an hour protesting against the indignity after the bath, while I had to waste half an hour doing the floors once again, and removing stains from the lounge walls.
This weekend I’m going to try and write a story, as Mark is off to his side-job. I’ll have two days to hash something out, and I may have an idea worth pursuing. It’s been so long since I write fiction that I’m almost afraid I won’t have the knack for it any longer.