In the computer game series Grand Theft Auto, there’s an element where you can kill pedestrians in different ways. For example, by running them over with a car. I didn’t get to do that yesterday when, for the first time, Auntie and I braved the roads for a practise session with our car.

Should I exaggerate and say that Auntie stumbled out of the car after, tripping on the seat belt as she scrambled to the safety of her own car, breathing hot and heavy from the ordeal, and then racing to the full bottle of vodka that waited for her at home?

Okay. I won’t do that, but it would have been funny if it had been true. Mostly what happened was quite boring. It was not that bad. The only bad thing was a tense moment when Auntie told me to mind the speed, and I realised I was going too fast on a winding country road.

Had we met a police car, I’m sure I would have got a few points against me on my first day ever in the driver’s seat. I can’t remember which speed I was up to, but Auntie did tell me to slow down, quite sharply too. I put the break on before I remembered to check my speedometer.

We spent most of the day in an empty enclosed field where Auntie taught me how to handle the car, and I did a lot of starting and stopping, turning and breaking, and gearing up and down. She was very thorough. It was only after that when Auntie suggested that we could take a drive on a desolate country road she knew, and after she had taken the wheel through the traffic of the town, and spent far too long ensuring that there were nothing and nobody nearby, I had my first taste of driving a car.

It was awesome. I could learn to like it. Abbie fetched me from the High Street after we were finished, and that’s where he told me about the gap year which I wrote about yesterday. Since this is a new day and a new dawn and a new mood, I don’t plan to worry about my friends futures.

I have enough with fantasising about my own, and remembering how awesome it was to speed down the road too fast in our own car. I can’t wait until I get the proper license, and then I’ll fight Mark for driving the car. I think he’s had it long enough as his own personal vehicle. It’s time I had my share of it, don’t you think?

Today we’re going to London to see that Ice age exhibition I wrote about earlier. We decided to go in yesterday evening after dinner, and I had to promise to endure a visit to a sports shop because Mark wants to up his stock of Crystal Palace things. His team shirt is falling apart, and that shirt appear to be a necessary item to wear when Mark’s team is playing. What is with sports fanatics and their need for icons like that?

No, I’m not driving. Pedestrians are safe, for now. But I’m installing GTA 4 for some extra practise…