DS: “Mum, I can drive at 15.”
Me: “No you bloody well can’t.”
DS: “I can. I’ll prove it to you.”
Quick Google later, and he shows me that you can get a license at 15 years and 9 months. Who knew that? Why so early? His excitement is already unbearable.
I learnt to drive in my parents’ diesel estate car. I took my driving test at rush hour in London. We sat in traffic most of the time, pulling into a side road to do the three point turn and emergency stop before rejoining the traffic jam. The most exciting part was the cyclist lurching across a pedestrian crossing. At the end the examiner asked if I knew where third gear was. I pointed it out to him. I passed.
I still remember the registration number of my first car, A764 CPH. A very sporty silver Metro City.
Anyway, whilst DS dreams of a sports car, I enjoyed this blog from Fraser’s Fun House
I realised recently that I rarely talk about the girls despite them accounting for two thirds of the Fraser clan – this is partly because they would most probably die of shame – so today I’m going to dedicate a whole post to them! A recurrent topic in our house lately is the length of […]
