Rob's Driving License

Well, once upon a time, not so very long ago, and not so very far away from here (11 years ago in Essex, to be precise), Rob's auntie bought for him a course of driving lessons, as an 18th birthday present, to help him become fully initiated as an adult.

He last failed his test on Christmas Eve 1998. I bleive that he was too polite to a horse, and the examiner didn't like that.

The license, as you may know, was an old-fashioned paper-only one. So for the past few years, he has been intending to renew it - get his new address on it, get a photocard, that kind of thing.

Yesterday, I picked up another form so that he could achieve this laudable ambition. And yesterday evening he filled it in. The forms he picked up last time we had this conversation - before I applied for my provisional license - were no longer useful, as they have changed the format since 2001. He filled it in incorrectly, but apart from that everything was fine.

So today we traipsed into town to the main post office, where he collected another form, filled it in correctly, and handed it over at the counter. He then signed it wrong (you have to confine your signature to a really quite miniscule box, and he let one L slip a fraction too freely) and had to sign yet another form. But eventually he showed the nice lady his passport and she put it all in an envelope and apparently he'll have the new license in two weeks' time.

Then I can book him driving lessons. He knows how to drive; all he needs to do is pass the test. Then we can go and visit people! I have two sisters who live in remote outposts, unreachable by public transport (Irish public transport is very spotty outside Dublin; it's just mildly pimpled within the Pale) and he has aunts and cousins in Sweden who need to be reached by car unless one has two or three days to go to see them. Hire cars await!

I'll become an SUV-driving Mum yet - just you wait and see! I can feel my principles crumbling...