Another Day Driving

You will notice there is no instructor in this photo. I eventually got him back in the car with the help of two 'white van drivers' and a farmer. It was not easy I must say. Had we not gagged him his screams may have deafened me before I got past that village with the milk float in a shop window - well it was by the time I got through the village. Anyone can mistake the accelerator for the brake surely?

Anyhow I managed to make it back after two hours of country roads, small towns and some villages. The history buff may be one who is able to understand why roads bend in such a twisted way, but I was not able to work that out, especially at left hand turns of 90% on several occasions. However such bends, in spite of those who park just beyond them, are preferable to the small towns filled with heavy traffic and zebra crossings. I never appreciated just how many different directions needed to be observed when going downhill through a busy town centre. I did gleam that many of the country folks are into in breeding, either that or Halstead has been taken over by aliens. Why should so many folks look identical otherwise? It appears they all need to cross the road at the same time also!

Now I wonder just who decided we need to push down the clutch, change gear, brake, accelerate and turn right while avoiding a woman on the...bonnet, oops, she is off now, all at the one and the same time? Surely these people ought to be kept well away from the roads? Especially when I am passing! However I only stalled once today, after enduring a horrid one way system which he deliberately did not mention we would endure. Just as well!

However we survived, the man is now 'Comfortable' as the hospital nurse said, and I will do it all again next week, but I think we had better find a different route. The council up that way may not want any more of those bent road signs.......

Sat Staring at the Wall

Here I am sitting staring at the wall. Saturday afternoon has arrived and I have nothing to say and less to report. Where did the week go? Did anything happen? On Monday I noticed there was a long list written out awaiting my gentle touch, it is still there, waiting.

Actually some things have been done, attendance at the Dole to meet a bullying woman who attempted to give me a positive attitude. "Don't say 'Fail' when a job has turned you down, be positive!" she said. "OK," said I, "I am positive I failed there." She did not respond positively to this in my view. I also reported to the man who signs me on, and mentioned the bully. A somewhat vile grin crossed his face at this, he has known her for many years! His constant chuckling for the next twenty minutes were unnecessary in my view. Whether he accidentally mentioned 'Jackboots' I could not work out.

My main action was the second driving lesson that I undertook on Monday. In 1972 I almost took driving lessons as they were about to increase in price from £2 to £2:50. I did not have the cash, and then no cash and no time. In London I obtained a provisional licence and then discovered I could not afford lessons there although I did have a small Suzuki motorbike for a while. These Japanese things fall apart easily don't they? Anyway, as I could make Marble Arch in twenty mins walking at that time I decided against it. Learning to drive in London did not scare me much, it was just the other cars and those driving them that worried me. Now out here, where in some regards it is still 1964, I find cars are a necessary. Just to get away from the folks around me! It is also a requirement to drive in most jobs these days, merely to get to them. For reasons beyond my limited comprehension there are a vast number of small companies which have decided to base themselves miles from anybody else, either on disused airfields or farm buildings, or deliberately at a distance from human society. Possibly it is cheaper to rent the building but the cost of transport must equalise that!

So I drove along bendy country lanes, failing to work out how to change gear, push down the clutch and brake at the same time whenever a junction came upon us. Two hours of that and I was worn out for the day. The instructor muttered something about being tired out also from his position in the back seat. I should point out he did not intend to sit there but just outside of Thaxted I made a slight mistake and that's where he ended up. I hope that farmer and his tractor got out all right in the end. Do the 'AA' deal with farm machinery?

However, those small intrusions apart nowt else has occurred. I walked up to the far end of town and back down the old railway line passing occasional sweating joggers and lonely women with dogs and suspicious looks,the women not the dogs. I trailed through the shopping centre wondering why women find these places so entrancing. If there were shops selling worthwhile stuff it would be OK, but it is so mundane, and there are at least six charity shops. Now that is fine as that is where I look for books, although the cretins in this backwater tend to read vast quantities of empty headed wimmens fiction and little else. Occasionally I come across a beauty, the last was John van der Kiste's 'Kaiser Wilhelm II' which was a worth while read although a bit too concise I thought. Did he really start the Great War because he was an imperialist bully, or was he just a weak man easily led by his officer corps who, like the French, wanted war? I go for the latter as with or without the Kaiser war was inevitable with the imperial and patriotic pride that coursed through everyone's veins at that time. There are few books available usually, maybe I should try a Rosalind Pincher or a Margaret Atwood and see how I react? I suspect I will be inspired to get a Kalashnikov and run riot through the streets removing those who read such stuff from the world.

I have looked at houses on the web as this is the time to buy one. It's not that I have any money but I foolishly bought a Lottery ticket and am now indulging in those dreams of what it would be like to possess things again. Now I am not claiming to worship Mammon or anything like that but think of the good you could do with all that money - from that island in the Mediterranean that I would buy with it - would be a blessing to many folks. It would of course also be nice not to live off the nation, and be able to pay back what I take out, and that is a guilt trip for some of us, it would of course be good to be rich rather than handsome for a change. What did you say at the back there?

Ah money, that reminds me I had better wander round to the market, it will be closing now and the left overs will be getting sold of cheap and other greedy folk will be picking up all the damaged veg and fruit before I get there. Selfish I calls them! Then I can come back and stare at the wall and try and think of something worth writing.

I Want One!

Oh yes I do! What better way to travel around than on a beauty like this? In the sunshine of course, absolutely no good whatsoever in the rain! What a lovely looking motor bike! Doesn't it make your heart beat faster, your desire for the open road increase, your delusion that you are still twenty return and the East Rider theme tune for Steppenwolf crash through the mind? Woohoo!

Naturally there is a downer. For one, there is no money. Buy a motor bike? I canny afford a bus ticket. The running costs, the servicing, the petrol is more than I could imagine, let alone the insurance. Another small problem is the licence, not having one I mean. I did have a provisional licence - I think, in 1976 when I then possessed a Suzuki GT185, which quickly fell apart under my engineering skills. Another one of my many failures is technical ability, there is none! The summer of '76 was of course 'the year of the drought.' A time when some Christians were talking of Gods judgement on us, and others were taking this to heart by stretching themselves all over the parks around us and attempting to develop skin cancer. Being from Edinburgh I stayed in the shade fearful of this new development in my life, three passing days with no rain - wow! The time spent running about London on the bike delivering overpriced photos to a variety of dour staffed companies showed to me that driving was not enjoyable, especially in London. This was made clear when that man knocked me off the bike when turning a corner. It was his fault, he should have seen me overtaking on the inside before he moved! "What? Oh..." For this reason I never took it up, and when the bike fell apart I let it all drop. Most of it is still lying there. However, I obtained another provisional in 1989 as I had a chance of free driving instructions at work, which happily fell through. Having moved out here I really must consider driving, even without cash, as the transport system since the days of Maggie Thatchers money grabbing has collapsed. I actually took some lessons before and gave up in disgust at the result. A mistake I fear, although the driving instructor at the time was keen for me to continue.

Of course as a Spurs fan he was usually found with his hands over his face anyway, as the scores would be heard over the radio and his despair grew as the lesson progressed. Approaching the roundabout on the busy road from Chelmsford I asked "Which lane?" but obtained no reply, Spurs had lost another goal and his head was banging on the dashboard while he agonised loudly.
"Which lane should I be in?" I asked timidly.
'Beep Beeeeep.' 'Beeeeep.'
"No noooo, not agaaiiiiin."
'Squeeeaaaaaaaal.' 'Beeeep' "@*&$:@%."
"It's OK, I got there."
"Four nil, four nilllll."
They have got worse since then, and I am not sure he does that job anymore. Whether it was the money or his team that changed his mind I would not like to say. I can say that as this was coming up to Christmas he was working seven days a week, from seven thirty in the morning till seven thirty at night. His wife, who only worked four days a week, complained he did not do enough around the house, and she had to do all the housework and look after the toddler! She then went into a huff when he indicated the reality of the situation. Women eh? The good book asks "A good wife who can find?" It does not give an answer....

It is a risk in many ways, spending money I really don't have on lessons to attempt something I am not keen on cannot make me feel good. However, maybe I might get a job out of it, although that seems unlikely. Other drivers in my position have struggled. It is useful, but with no cash there is no vehicle anyway. On top of this there will be the travelling to the sanatorium to visit the next instructor which takes a lot of time and trouble, let alone all the forms the police must fill in these days. However we will see. But every so often I see a picture like that, especially when the sun is shining through the frozen air, and think to myself, I want one of those!
One day maybe.