In the light of my desire to take my driving test sometime in the next 30 years, I must have persuaded my Mum to get up early so that she could take Dad to work in order that I could have some practise in the car. I really didn’t like having any form of in car practise with him you know. I was never quite sure whether or not it was my poor driving or his jumpiness that was the source of the constant sharp intaking of breath, followed closely by some ‘helpful’ piece of advice or another, but truth was I hated being behind the wheel with him in the passenger seat. Oh no. No siree.
As it happened today, we went to the supermarket (I drove); we went to Granny’s house (I drove). Later we went to the pub (I doubt very much that I drove). Then I went to bed (I slept). And that was about that. The half term was more then half over and I hadn’t taken up a pen in anger at all. Oh bugger.