I am very excited. Soon I will be driving a car. A CAR. Not in the next month, but soon. Of course, it will be my mothers car which stinks of dog and is filled with broken umbrellas and torn maps but this is not a problem. I plan to pimp it up big style. I've got my eye on a bobbing dog for the dashboard. Also, as my mother unceremoniously reminded me on the phone yesterday I am designated driver for the REST OF HER LIFE.
Of course, I cannot drive yet. If you remember, I failed my theory test about a year ago. Yes, failed. The notoriously simple Driver Theory Test. Let's not harp on about it, shall we? THIS is my time. I WILL pass that mother this time round. Unfortunately, as I discovered to my chagrin on consulting my diary on the bus with Aoife this morning, it is the day after Joanne's 'I'm-fucking-off-to-New-Zealand-for-a-year, come-and-mourn-my-passing-in-advance' party.
'How will I EVER manage to study?' I despaired.
Aoife roused from her early morning langour, sighed pitingly. 'You could just NOT leave all your studying till the day before the test...?'
Oh. THAT old chestnut. Yeah, right.