My first outing after passing my driving test

Passing my driving test was a bit of a task to start with. I had been getting loads of lessons and had a date booked and was as ready as I’d ever be.

My driving instructor and I drove to the test centre, signed in and were told to sit and wait. While we waited, a lady came over and asked to see my certificate to prove I’d passed my theory test. You’re not allowed to take your practical test until you’ve passed your theory test. And you’ll never guess what. I didn’t have my certificate with me. I had no idea I was supposed to bring it. There were 20 minutes until the test, it would take more than that to rush home, get my certificate and come back.

So I couldn’t take the test and went home quite annoyed. It cost quite a lot of money to book a test. I booked another one at the next available date, three months away. I didn’t get anymore driving lessons in those three months as they were expensive and I was already ready for the test. I just drove with a qualified driver, every so often, so as not to forget how to do things.

Inevitably, my second test came up, I hadn’t been driving enough, I did an awful job and failed it.

I booked myself in for a third time. This time, I got some driving lessons aswell, to keep it up properly. And I took test number three and I passed. Woop woop!

I got home, all excited, and decided to drive to my friend, Ruth’s house, by myself, to celebrate passing my test. She only lived a few minutes away so I was there pretty quickly. She lived on a hill so as I found a spot to park in, I needed to be doing a hill start in reverse to get into the space.

I focussed on the car behind and making sure I didn’t hit it and I pressed on the gas pedal quite hard.

Up, up, up, gently, don’t hit the car, turn in, in, but not too far, don’t hit the curb, a bit more gas, up, up, up, don’t hit the car….

CRUNCH.

No. I had not hit the car. How stupid do you think I am?!

I had hit the massive great lamppost, which was in front of the car.

So there’s a lamppost in front of the car. I’ve reversed into the lamppost. That’s the first thing I have achieved as a fully qualified driver.

I looked around, hoping no-one had seen. My friend, Ruth, was walking toward me. She had been watching me the whole time, admiring her new driving-license-wielding friend, thinking of the adventures we would have, escaping in a car. She had seen the ridiculous avoid-the-car-but-hit-the-lamppost manoeuvre.

We inspected the back and, to be honest, there were quite a few scrapes and scratches already there. So what looked like the one I had probably done just kind of blended in. Kind of.

And that is the first thing I did after passing my driving test. Maybe it’s a good job I don’t drive anymore…?

Fun with eggs

I can just imagine the search terms people will enter today and end up here. Things like, ‘how to bake a cake with eggs’ or ‘how many eggs should I use in a quiche’ or something. And do you know what they’ll get? They’ll get a silly story about my first year of living in halls at university.

There were five of us girls, all sitting around, day in, day out, being all free and away from home. Actually, we started as a six-peice but one of us, we’ll call her Smelly, opted for a life of not washing or being present. We’d find old unwashed pots and pans hidden in her wardrobe when we entered to find all our stuff she had borrowed and never returned. It was like entering a dungeon.

Anyway, I procrastinate, as usual. So we were a five-peice. We spent a lot of time dancematting. I think I have skated over this issue briefly. Now is the time to explain what was really going on. I would play dance mat every day. Every single day. For hours. Hours and hours and hours. I would shower two, sometimes three, times a day following yet another sweat-filled session jumping around in front of the tv. I often had a bit of a limp when I walked. I had blisters on my big toes and my calves were so tight, I couldn’t walk down stairs properly. I had to turn sideways and step gingerly down, both feet on one stair, before being able to move to the next one. As I lived on the first floor and my walk to work took an hour, this became quite a problem.

Another thing we did to pass the time was to play The Egg Game. I don’t know who came up with it. I think it was the product of one of those discussions about wierd facts that surely can’t be true. Do eggs really cook in the microwave, was the discussion at hand.

We took eggs from the fridge, as clearly, the theory must be tested. We each had one. We each drew a face on our egg. We each placed our egg on the glass plate inside the microwave. We closed the door. We set the time going. And we watched. And we sang. And we sang louder in excitement until the singing was screams. We watched. And we screamed.

And nothing happened.

We stopped screaming. We watched. We got bored.

BANG!!

The door of the microwave was thrown open violently and cooked egg nonsense hurled itself out at us all. We SCREAMED and ran as though under attack. Then we laughed nervously, pretending we hadn’t been scared.

Were you scared? No, I wasn’t! Haha! Were you? Was I? No, of course not. No. I wasn’t. Not me…. Definitely not me…. Noooo… Nope.

We approached the eggy microwave and peered in. Only one had gone. Another was squealing threateningly and another had leaked a little and the leakage had cooked white.

There was only one thing for it. We removed the suicide bomber, closed the door and continued the experiment, gripping each other, nervously. One after another, each went. Some barely making a noise. Some throwing their entire contents against the walls of the microwave.

A brief clean up and breather got our heart rates back to normal and now we knew. The next time we were bored, we had a game to play. The Egg Game.

One time, we found a egg which has become legendary in the history of our friendship. The Long Egg. As the name suggests, it was an egg which was longer than your average. I forget exactly how the egg went, but I’m sure that, during it’s time on the battlefields of The Egg Game, it fought valiantly and with great courage. It left a little of itself forever ingrained into the nooks and crannies on the ceiling of it’s fighting arena, the bits you can’t get to with the cleaning wipes, you know.

We salute you, Long Egg. You have a special place in our hearts. Love from the inhabitants of Flat D.

(P.S. We also tried testing another rumour, that if you put a carrot in the microwave for ages then take it out and snap it in half, flames shoot out! This one, sadly, did not work.)