For those of you who don’t get the reference in the title listen to the song above, because I assume most of you won’t have.Anyway, today’s blog is about all things automotive; don’t worry I’m not a mechaphile who does things with cars. At work today I was reliably informed that today is the 75th anniversary of the driving test, and probably another 75 years before I will pass, I suppose it could be worse, I could be one of those people who has passed, and is an awful driver. Not one to call the kettle black, but there was a girl in my year who once confused the accelerator for the break, and drove straight into her garage; also my form tutor was yet to pass his test after taking it 13 times, and that was 2 years ago. For the time being I am happy imagining I have car, and making vroom vroom noises in my head. If I did have a car sopmething like a Delorean from ‘Back to the Future’ would be my first choice, zooming around like Marty McFly, getting up to 88mph and going back in time. If not, then I think I would make a good candidate for ‘Back to the Future 4…..Time to quit.’ The way I see it the only problem with a Delorean is parking, tight Sainsbury’s spaces don’t leave much room for doors that open upwards and outwards. I’ve already found one online for $25,000, and don’t pretend it wouldn’t look cool.
I took my test once, and failed miserably; you can tell when you have failed your driving test, there is that awful moment when the examiner has to slam on the emergency break, and the realisation slams you in the chest like a Swedish airbag. When I failed I sat there in the box junction, inches away from a truck and spent a good minute trying to compose myself, knowing the long drive back to the centre would just have cost me £100, with nothing to show. It has been 2 years since I was behind the wheel of a car, ‘good’ some of you may say, but for the moment as my overdraft grows, my desire to waste money on lessons shrinks. The lack of a car can become an annoyance when you become chained to public transport, the ammount I spend on trains could quite easily pay for a car, maybe not a Delorean, but atleast a Reliant Robin; I could use this to set up my business ‘Chapman’s Independent Traders.’ This weekend I made a short visit home, forking out £10 to sit in a heated carriage, underground, without even being able to put my feet on the seats. I looked around, sure that ‘Big Brother’ was watching me, so I daren’t defy the sign; you aren’t even allowed to put your feet on the plastic bits in the middle, as far as I was aware there aren’t many people fat enough to sit on those areas of the seats!
My trip home to Chester was just that though, a trip; I managed to weasel an extra week at the BBC, with the added bonus of Monday off, so once again I buttoned my top and returned to the newsroom. One editor said that I must be a glutton for punishment, and it certainly seemed that way as I trudged around in the rain asking for people’s driving experiences. My favourite was a *ahem* delightful gentleman who refused to answer my question, but continued to tell me how much he hated the BBC, I half wanted to direct him down the road to the newsroom and confront the staff himself, then watch the outcome. However, this man was not the only one hating the BBC, as today we prepared for a possible protest to do with the Israeli/Palestine conflict, which is apparently caused by the BBC. I became quite excited at the thought of people storming the building like a scene from ‘Die Hard,’ we would have to call in Bruce Willis to negotiate, and then get released one by one; some would make it out, some would not. The protest allowed me to get off early, as all non essential staff were advised to go home before any trouble began; luckily this meant I wasn’t running the risk of getting mobbed as I left the building; I imagined myself shouting “I’M JUST A WORK EXPERIENCE BOY” as the protesters would wrestle me to the floor, or pelt me with eggs.
This is my final week sitting in Abbey’s flat, gathering filth around me and spending my evenings sad and alone on the internet. I hop between the same few websites, and constantly check my Ebay in the hope someone has bought my spare Leeds Festival Ticket….. any takers? Since I finished at 4pm I have now been sat in the same position for 4 hours and counting, I can feel the bed sores forming already. But after this week I must leave the safety of the work experience next, and it is back to Leeds to wait it out until a job comes out of hiding, or I resort to prostitution. Have a fun week everyone and I hope the weather improves, well it is national ice cream, and BBQ week!