*and if not can someone tell the taxi driver we got back from the supermarket yesterday?
I was going to say something much more interesting and informative, but I have had a little collapse of the over-exhausted and slightly poorly kind, and have therefore been asleep for about 24 of the last 36 hours.
When awake, I have mainly been answering questions of a complex and automotive nature as I have experienced several taxi drivers I didn’t like at all over the last few days, and the only way to avoid them AND get to everywhere we would like to be able to get to, apparently, is to do it ourselves.
Yes! I will become a taxi driver!
No, well, I might just try driving around for a bit first, and besides, my visa means I can’t actually take paid employment within these shores, so I’d have to drive people around for free. So maybe I’ll just drive.
Neither of us drive. It isn’t a big environmental or lifestyle statement (although it is a small one, maybe) I just like public transport and have always lived in cities where the need to drive hasn’t been as pressing. However, here it would be useful to drive. So we will.
First, though, we both have to pass the theory test thing before we can take lessons, so I have been practising by taking sample tests all day.
I have discovered some very interesting and enlightening things. When approaching a rail crossing with the barriers coming down, it is better to stop and wait for the train to pass rather than speed up and hope you beat it, for example. Also, when turning left across an intersection into a road where a pedestrian is crossing, you should let them get to the other side before driving straight at them.
I am becoming an expert in all manner of lines, broken and unbroken and of various different colours, and can cheerfully tell you all manner of things about which way your wheels should be facing when parking on a hill, although not what the speed limit is, because no one seems to want me to know that.
My favourite thing I have learnt today, however, is the correct level of anxiety when approaching the top of a hill:
I’m not sure which I prefer, the idea of someone receiving a call at police headquarters from some kind of loon parked up on the side of a slope crying and wailing that there’s a hill and god only KNOWS what might be on the other side but they refuse to carry on over there without a police escort; or the idea of riding roughshod over the hill, beeping your horn like crazy and flashing your hi-beams like a mid-80s laser show. And possibly shouting “Yee ha!”
I chose the latter, obviously.