In the kitchen, I searched the cupboards looking for food with a high-energy content, but settled eventually on two pieces of toast, smothered in butter and strawberry jam. The usual ritual was to sit down at the table and consume it, however I found myself aimlessly wandering around, taking large bites as I pace.
I was counting down the minutes until my driving instructor would pick me up and run through the final procedures with me. Every passing minute felt like a decade, yet I still had thirty minutes to go.
I went into the living room and strategically placed myself in the cosy leather armchair and began to fill my head with the rules of going round a roundabout and how to do an emergency stop.
The time had eventually passed and thoughts of failure came into my head. What if I didn’t pass, all that money that would have been wasted on me, together with the sheer embarrassment of announcing to my entire circle of friends, that I had failed another major exam in my life!
I could hear a car horn, so I peered out of the window and spotted my instructor’s duster yellow Toyota. The horn hooted for a second time, he sounded harassed. I grabbed my sheepskin coat off the wooden hook and proceeded to the front door and found myself slamming it shut.
I climbed into the car and John, my instructor, drove me to the test centre. I got there and found that it was exactly as my friend who had preceded me, had described: dark, dingy and very daunting.
I walked up to the grubby desk, and announced myself. I was then asked to sit down and wait for somebody to call out my name. The chairs were all stained and ripped and were in need of urgent replacement. I nervously waited for the examiner to approach me. Within minutes the door that had a placard saying ‘staff only’ opened and out emerged six examiners, accompanied by clipboards that were placed officiously in their hands. They headed towards the six awaiting learners. We all looked like lost lambs ready for the slaughterhouse. They called out our names one by one. At the mention of my name, I eagerly stood up but found myself flat on my face having tripped over my dreaded shoelaces. I got up feeling terribly humiliated and preceded towards the car.
My examiner began by making me read a number plate in the distance. Thank goodness I had remembered to put my contacts in! I thought to myself. I then slid into the car and suddenly felt terribly threatened by this strange-looking passenger who appeared incredibly miserable. His face seemed so severe that if looks could kill, I felt I would have already been dead. I drove around and was given the usual instructions ‘turn right, second left, third exit off the round about, please do a turn in the road hill start’ and all the things I had learned during my previous lessons. The fatal one was still to come though. Maybe he’s forgotten I thought, but just as the dreaded words echoed through the car.
“ When I slam my clipboard onto the dash board, I want you to do an emergency stop”. I anxiously waited, trying hard to remain focused on the driving and felt that I could have easily been ejected. Did the car stop automatically or had I swerved. My thoughts became vague as my head started to throb.
More driving followed as I realised we were making our way back to the test centre.
The examiner asked me to park in a suitable spot outside the centre and cut the engine. He then turned his head towards me and for the first time showed some eye contact. “Miss Green”, he said, “ I am pleased to inform you that you have passed your test”.
“YES! YES! YES” I bellowed and then realised that he was not impressed with my sudden outburst. “Oh I am sorry”, I said, as I got out the car clutching my certificate as if I had won the lottery.
I felt totally elated with my achievements and felt that this was indeed a day to remember.
