Hello Hello,
Waiting in the reception of Cardington's Test centre it was safe to say I was anxious. Sitting there, early because I have to not because I wanted to. If I had it my way I would have turned up with enough time for a quick wee and smile at the receptionist, hoping she may influence he decision of the examiner, which of course, is silly. Moments later after I returned from the bathroom where I wished good luck to another lady also taking her test for the first time. Nervous, I watched as the examiner, a short man with an alternative look including ear tunnels and and tattoos. Calling my name I took a gulp and stepped forward. Shaking his hand I introduced myself as did he. Showing him my licence I was escorted to the car park where I was asked some questions. Getting into the drivers seat the examiner asked me to start the engine and so my test began.
Driving down the road, stopping occasionally for manoeuvres and traffic, I felt that the first half of my test was going well. Feeling confident I continued to show my instructor exactly what I had learnt since April. However I had stalled several times, mainly for being in either the wrong gear or simply for driving far too slowly in traffic, all which added toward my final score of seven minors. Also included in that was not stopping with enough distance to the car in front whilst in traffic as well as speed, although whether it was too slow or too fast I am not so sure.
Coming through a small village on the outskirts of Bedford I came up to a junction marked with a Give way sign. I stopped. I looked. I waited. I thought that since everywhere I looked was a red light that this might apply to me and my lane of traffic. I was wrong. I knew that after I had been sat there for a few moments. Saying out loud what I had done wrong I moved out into the direction I wanted to go, however with traffic now oncoming from the opposite direction on the crossroads I was unable to make the junction through safely. With the examiner pressing his foot on the brake gently I knew by that point I had failed. I was twelve-minutes from the test centre. Twelve-minutes. I was so close.
Pulling into the test centre again I heard the deepness of my examiners voice and I knew even before he offered his apologies that I had unfortunately failed. Thanking my examiner I courteously got out of the car and my instructor got into the drivers seat, silent as a mouse. As I walked around the car I heard crying. Deep, tearful, hysterical crying. Was it the women that I met in the toilets? I don't know. I could hear her, but I couldn't see, and in all fairness I didn't want to look at everyone else happy at passing.
Driving me to work my Instructor was quiet. He mentioned a few things including that it was a good drive other than my mishap at the crossroads. Honestly I think I knew it was going to happen. The odds were stacked against me and with only twenty to thirty percent of people passing first time it wasn't looking great from the outset. Nevertheless though I carried on and did my best. Besides all the best drivers pass second time right? Pulling into work, some of the lads were having a cigarette. Smiling I allowed my instructor to park the car safely to which I promised to book in more lessons after my birthday weekend and departed. Walking into reception I heard one of the lads congratulate me. The other one asked how it went and I could only shake my head in disappointment.
"Nooo!" One of them exclaimed "It cant be true, your instructor drove you back they always do that once you have passed. Your just joshing with us?!" he continued as I explained what had happened. Heading upstairs, not as late as I was anticipating I was greeted with the usual 'hellos' and 'mornings', But as I approached my desk Miss Hackney (Originally from the area and the most 'gangsta' person I know), one of my closest work colleagues, looked at me with longing eye and a wanting gaze. I shook my head and she cuddled me as a friend would, apologetic for my lack of drivers competence. Running through everything though I was honestly OK. I didn't cry or even have a tear up. I was fine. Glad in fact, relieved it was finally over. Besides I think if I had passed first time around I would have almost certainly been a cocky and arrogant driver, ergo second time around I will be better and more skilled than before. Continuing with life though I headed home to tell Mr. Warehouse and he cuddled me as Miss Hackney had. But there was no time to be glum. After all I was turning twenty-five in a matter of days!
Coming in the following morning I was in much of a better mood for Friday was my work birthday and Miss Hackney and Miss Gravy (She is from 'oop nooorth) had made me a big surprise on my desk. Glitter and confetti stars were everywhere. Cupcakes, party hats, nibble and treats all adorned my desk. Ten minutes later I finally have some order, but it need not matter much for it was my work birthday and it was nearly, oh so nearly the weekend. Finishing work I headed into town with Miss Hackney to meet Mr. Warehouse and pick up all the food for the party the following night, before heading home and hosting Miss Hackney for dinner. That night Mr. Warehouse and I anticipated the dramas tomorrow would bring, no real clue on what it would hold.
The following morning was going swimmingly, that was until the therapist called and explained my spa day had to be cancelled due to not having any therapists available. Annoyed, Mr. Warehouse and I headed into town to pick up a few last minute things and start decorating the venue. Speaking to Momma Warehouse the previous evening we knew that she would be busy in the morning moving houses so left her to it as we would see her in a few short hours since she was coming to help Mr. Warehouse to cook and prepare all the food. But as half-two rolled round we still had no communication from her and it wasn't until Mr. Warehouse got a call from his older brother to inform us that in actual fact she wasn't coming, or helping with the food, or giving us a lift with the food to the venue. In a right pickle we had depended on her to help us and now what were we going to do. Making the best of a bad situation we forked out for Taxi-Cabs to bring all the food and take everything back home at the end of the night. With Mr. Warehouse racing home and busting his balls to get all the food ready I was sat in the hairdressers getting a much needed cut.
Returning home a few hours later I cracked open the Prosecco and proceeded to get ready. Donning the same blush tonal gown I wore to the wedding in Newquay this summer I felt the part. Arriving at the venue I was pleased once all the food was laid out and it was finally time to relax with those that meant the most. As family and friend began to arrive I was delighted with the turn out, only a few guests didn't attend and I suppose they had good reasoning's. Even both side of my family turned up, my uncles from my mother and my fathers sides which, seeing them embrace each other in a way I thought I'd never see really choked me up and definatly brought a tear to my eye. I was saddened that my dearest Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb did not turn up until much later in the evening, even after a few people had left already. Looking at my clock I could see that it was gone half-eight. Where were they? Soon enough they turned up, although I could tell that they were annoyed for being late which was somewhat not their fault. Momma and Pappa Tweedle-Dee came as well, joining in with the drinks and the banter.
The evening was a massive success and the food? Well I am more than disappointed to say that after all of Mr. Warehouse's hard work, there was a huge amount of food that had simply not been touched. And now I was faced with a alcohol infused choice to make. The bar man wanted to start clearing up for the end of the night and that included clearing the food. I offered him and the other staff members to help themselves and encouraged my party-goers to tuck in also but it hardly made a dent. Mr. Warehouse was refusing to take the remainder home, despite paying for a cab back home with all my presents and the like. Suffice to say I was fuming at the prospect of throwing away more than sixty-quids worth of food. I am simmering now but for sure Mr. Warehouse will be taking me our for dinner when he gets paid to make up for it.
Heading into town after the party I partied until the wee-small hours, finally getting home at gone four-in-the-morning. I fell asleep that night with a subway sndwiched between my tits and a smile on my face. Haha, still got it!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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