Today I took the plunge and booked my learner’s licence test. It was exciting, and nearly didn’t happen - the grim-faced woman behind the desk informed me that my tenancy agreement was insufficient proof of address, and I sulked for a bit and contemplated going home before realising in a fit of (by my standards) brilliance that I could pop to the bank and get a proof of address form there. So I did. On my return the grim woman loosened up considerably - clearly realising I was not, after all, a lightweight but committed to the task, as a convert to Judaism who must be turned away three times by the rabbis - and paid several compliments to the snortlepig.
Unfortunately my calculated gamble of doing my hair in a hurry did not pay off. It turns out they take the photo before you take your test, not after. So my learner’s licence will feature me will a severely pulled-back librarian bun and a somewhat grim expression, the latter occasioned by the snortlepig trying to climb on my knee and saying “Milks!” as the flash went off. Ah well. Maybe it will impress the police.
My test is at 11:15 next Wednesday. Sadly they have just switched to computerised tests, not scratchies. I like scratchies. Scratch and sniff would be even better, but probably frivolous under the circumstances. At any rate, if I fail to blog about it you must assume the worst and be appropriately sympathetic.
Tomorrow my practically only small sister is coming over to make ravioli, and we will have Pumpkin and Brown Sugar Creme Brulee for dessert. Doesn’t it look luscious?