On the eve of 2014 my list of New Year's Resolutions included DRIVING LICENSE. I didn't elaborate and had I robbed someone else's I might have considered ticking that one off as done.
But I didn't steal one, or fake one, and at the age of 32 I still can't drive. However, living on an island without the wonders of the London Underground, I have finally given my money over to the local driving school.
Move aside novels, I have a new piece of literature to read, the excitingly titled "Manual del Alumno- Permiso B". It's fast paced in some areas, like the motorway, and fraught with potential danger, SLOW DOWN, Cattle Crossing!
Even though I'm pretty fluent at Spanish, I could never write a book in my second language, which means I feel I have tons of room for improvement. At one point I entertained the idea of joining a Spanish literature class. NO NEED for that now! My Theory class is a perfect substitute, being choc full of strange, new vocabulary I'll probably never use...
EG. Luces de galibo - end outline marker lights (Que?)
The teacher is as passionate about her subject as any literature professors might be about Shakespeare. Sometimes I get lost as she scribbles frantically on the black board in an alphabet that may not be of this planet, but usually discover that I'm not the only one.
Classes for theory? You ask. Don't you just memorise the book?
Perhaps I could. But I quite enjoy the routine of walking to my 5.30pm class Monday to Thursday, and hearing the book come to life! It forces me to leave the writing cave. If I have food in the fridge, I'm quite capable of not leaving the house all week, which is not good for my sanity.
I'm apprehensive of the practical classes to come. But I was also nervous about going to my first theory class once too, and that was a complete waste of energy as it's not scary in the slightest. I'm just going to take it one step at a time. I keep telling myself, Even idiots can drive, so how hard can it be?