failing

My driving test, that is, though it’s just another thing to add to my long, long list of recent failures. Or rather, things that have gone terribly wrong since moving up here. I swear, I’m cursed.

Maybe it’s Fate’s not so subtle kick in the ass. I’m finally heeding her call, and have started applying for jobs in Glasgow. Think I’d make a good spokesperson for the refugee council?

Back to the test. ANNOYING. The guy failed me for not getting up to speed on a few residential streets. Seriously. I was failed for driving 25 in a 30mph speed limit zone. It’s not like I was holding up traffic on a main road or anything. Christ. I’ve heard horror stories about insane reasons for failure, but that’s just ridiculous. And to think, I was all worried about my maneuvers.

So I’ve booked another test, but the earliest opening they had was for May, a whole month away! It’s bad enough not being able to drive until then, and having to depend on Tommy for a ride each day, but even worse is the fact that my former flatmate in Greece, Kate, is coming to visit in a few weeks. What the hell can I do with her without a car? It’ll be fine in the cities, but we can’t exactly explore much up here.

When I told her this last night, she wasn’t exactly pleased. Sympathy at failing my test? Out the window, replaced by disdain and anxiety about her perfect holiday ruined. I finally convinced her to try her hand at driving my car, though she was terrified at the prospect. In the end, she was getting a bit excited at the novelty of it all. Hopefully I won’t have white knuckles the entire journey, like I did when dear old Dad was behind the wheel.

I also made a big compromise. She had her heart set on visiting Skye, and I’m quite keen on visiting the island too, but with only four days in the country, I didn’t think it possible. Eventually I acquiesced, and presented her with a programme that had her squealing with glee. Now all that’s left to do is book hotels, which I’ve left to her, with a few steers toward suggested B&Bs. Hopefully we’ll have fun, and I won’t have to spend much money. She’s offered to pay for most of it, but I’m not good with hand-outs. Maybe I should just see it as payment for my invaluable services as tour guide. Ha!

I’ve had my grumpy pants on in the last few days. Can you blame me? Monday was terrible! Seriously, one of my worst days at work. Tommy was off, Raymond spent the entire day in court, leaving me, alone, in the office, where I had to field every phone call and take any story that came my way. In addition to the two photo stories already scheduled, there were police press releases, a car accident, and several briefs to follow up on.

Then there was the big story. A couple who once lived in the area were found dead in bed in the new Yorkshire home in an apparent double suicide. To make the story even more juicy, it turns out police had gone down there days earlier to question the guy about rape allegations. So they wanted me to go to his old house and start knocking on neighbours’ doors, trying to get any gossip I could about the couple. My worst nightmare, with a few added bonuses - the guy had lived on the other end of town, and since I couldn’t drive and no one else was around, I had to walk. It was raining. And cold. And twenty minutes each way. ARGH! I didn’t exactly have a minute to spare either. But eventually I sucked it up and went. Got some good stuff too, and no one slammed the door in my face, which is always good.

When I got back and told my editor what I had learned, they wanted me to try to get photos. I had found out where they got married, a silly useless fact I thought, but they seized upon it as a golden opportunity, and wanted me to phone the local registrar there to find out who the local wedding photographer is. Of course, there were about 15 wedding photographers in the town, which is famous for its quickie weddings. I had also learned that he had an ex-wife who lived in my village, but got no name for her. No matter. My editor somehow found a few potential addresses for a woman who might have been his ex, and he wanted me to go out and start knocking on more doors.

“And if you come back to me and say you’ve interviewed the lass who’s made the rape allegation, it would be a dream come true,” he said.

Yeah, right. I drew the line there, which was easy to do because of lack of car and 4 mile distance to ex wifey’s house. I waited for Raymond to get back and sent him to track her down. As expected, she declined to comment. Uh huh. I wrote the story with what I had, and got no complaints, amazingly enough, but still had other stories to write and didn’t leave the office till 6. Grrr.

Yesterday wasn’t as bad by comparison, except for the whole failing the driving test thing, which put a damper on everything. Tommy was off sick, something I was going to harass him about, until I discovered he broke up with his live-in girlfriend of four years on Friday night. Ouch. Really bad. I don’t think he was even going to tell anyone, it just slipped out when I asked if he had received a bit of mail. Poor thing. I still don’t know what happened, but he’s moved in with his parents and seems to be taking it really badly. Not surprising, since there was no indications of anything wrong. I’m dying to know… but I’ll be good and give him space.

I can’t tell you how glad I am to be leaving tomorrow for a long weekend away in Glasgow. It’ll be really hard to come back. My mom has been all weird and emotional lately sending me messages of encouragement, telling me it breaks her heart to think of me alone up here, and how she admires me for sticking it out this long. Aw. Nice, but it also makes me feel a bit sad and pathetic for being so pitied.

I should go pack. Woo hoo! Escape!

Happy bunny day all.