Oh God. He "can" drive, in the sense that he learned at 17, failed a test then had a girlfriend (ho-hum some mug other than me) to drive him around. He took more lessons just before we got married and had a test booked a couple of weeks before the wedding. He then managed to break his shoulder whilst on his stag and had to cancel. I had just passed my test about a month before we got married and near enough shit myself on honeymoon when I hired a car in Tours to drive us to the chateau we were staying in on that part of the trip. Hmm, 7 weeks "actual" driving experience (I had passed my test on lessons only iyswim - I didn't have a car to practice in, hence it took 5 flippin' goes). Anyway, managed to drive us round the Loire without killing anyone (except the arsehole in charge of signposting in France if I could have got my hands on him.)
About a year later I decided I would risk my own driving licence (you have to have a licence three years to be qualified to take out a learner) and take DH out practicing in my car. What fun that was when he told me I was a bitch for shouting at him when I was nearly having a nervous breakdown when he drove straight onto the roundabout at the WHite City interchange of the A40 without "realising" it was a roundabout and then said "how was he supposed to know what 'filter left' meant" when we got to Kings Cross and he really did see that car that was about to carve us up on the inside becuase he'd been indicating left for so long that the man behind thought he mustn't be going left at all... until he did at the last minute.
My God. It's burned into my memory. DH is a man who doesn't like ANYONE telling him what to do. Not me, his boss, his driving instructor, the driving examiner... You see where I'm going with this.
Fcking hell. My heart is actually pounding at the thought. I'm not exaggerating here.
Anyway, I suggested to him that since he doesn't "do" buses, the nearest train station is 20 mins away and he likes to avoid public transport anyway and he has never had to fold a buggy and hold a baby at the same time; that it might be a good idea to actually pass a driving test or else any time he's left alone with the baby he'll be stuck in a half mile radius of the house, more or less. He agreed. No sign of any driving lessons though...
Do you know what makes it worse? He's a very nervous passenger. He's always telling me to slow down. ARRRRGHHHHHHH. Can you tell it's a bit of a bugbear? Fck it. If he doesn't fix the bonnet of the car by the morning then its his £50 down the toilet for parking. I should have just booked a cab anyway.
The only good thing in it all is that with him buying a moped, he now has some "road sense". You know the learned anticpation of dangers and awareness of what's going on, that you can only know when you've actually driven? I think he might be less of a liability in the driving seat now, although I'm not sure my nerves can stand it. Not when I'm this hormonal, that's for sure.
Am too tired to pack. Will have to get up early tomorrow and do it. DH isn't home yet, so I'll end up being the Oracle of All Things Which Cannot be Found in the morning anyway.
Dammit. Desperate housewives just came on. Bed with my new Dream Geeni pillow or watching DH? Hmm.
Oh, postman left my pillow package on the doorstep under an empty recycling box. Thought that was very nice of him. Saved me a trip to the post office. Sweetie.