The Past Recedes.
Thanks to an unexpected windfall, I now no longer need to worry about not being able to afford driving lessons. This is a good thing, because after last night’s shameful effort at a turn in the road (aka a three point turn for all you seasoned drivers out there), I need all the lessons I can get. Seriously, I read up about the difference manouvers, I master the reverse park in one attempt (even remembering my observations and turning the wheel one revolution etc) but the second the turn in the road is mentioned, I freeze. In my head, I know what I need to do, I know all the steps I need to take to get from one side to the other, but there’s some part of my brain that isn’t clicking into gear (haha, see what I did there?) and I end up either overshooting the kerb or almost zooming away onto the pavement. Needless to say, I’ve pushed doing my test back - the original plan had been to do it in April, but to be honest I don’t think there’s much chance of me being ready then. Bah.
I haven’t blogged in a while - I’ve been trying to save up posts so I could write one good one, but now I’m here I’ve pretty much forgotten anything important that I had wanted to write. What is the point? My memory is like a sieve since having Beepbeep; my pockets are filled with notes and reminders, the kitchen table strewn with little leaflets, scribbles and scraps yet still even the simplest of things (such as my neighbour’s name) escapes me. I can usually get away with the traditional “oh, that’s so-and-so’s Mum/Dad”, but still there are occassions when I’m stood infront of someone with a vacant expression, mouth agape and a flock of question marks hovering above my head. Add to that the creak in my knee, the cocktail (well, two) of tablets I take each day and the fact that I cannot stay up past eleven o’clock without dozing off on the sofa and I think I should just give up now. It would be more humane to take me outside and shoot me now, put me out of my misery.
I jest, I jest…
I half-watched the Brit Awards last night after my driving nightmare, and was again utterly unimpressed by the proceedings. Honestly, if Mika duetting with Beth effing Ditto on a two year old track is the best we can muster up to open the supposedly biggest and best music show of the year, we really should give up now. Rihanna and Klaxons… *sigh* Rihanna has a face I’d never tire of punching and Klaxons are really far better in a sweaty club somewhere, so that was a bit blah. I missed Kylie, but after watching half of her “performance” on Youtube I switched off and realised I hadn’t missed much at all. I shouldn’t be surprised that the ceremony has turned into a nasty little industry backslapping event (when was it not such a thing, really?), but I suppose a little more originality wouldn’t go amiss. Ah bugger it, what do I know, I’m just a humble viewer!
In other news, my obsession with John Frusciante’s music gets deeper by the day. I intend on hunting round some record shops at the weekend to try and get some more of his albums, it has been ages (months, if not a year or so) since I bought a CD (as opposed to downloading from itunes).
