Sooooo….

I passed my driving test. Hurrah! And first time, too! (The time I failed when I was 17 doesn’t count. It doesn’t.) I was so convinced that I’d failed (I started to cry during my third attempt to reverse round a corner) that I replied “That’s not funny or appropriate” when the man told me I’d passed. He asked me if I’d like him to reconsider. I almost said yes, such a hash had been made. Still, no-one was killed or even seriously injured, and looking back, I did handle the Pramface walking out in front of me with plenty of skill. And considering we took the only one of the twelve test routes that I had never driven on, through some very busy areas on a Saturday, I can’t say I’m displeased with my performance. Crying might have been a bit much, like. Especially with half an hour left of the test.  Can’t drive anywhere till June 24^th, like because The Mam is insured with Saga, and they won’t insure me because I’ve still got my own teeth, or something. But still, phase one of Operation Lifestyle is complete. Operation Lifestyle is broken into several important phases. I wrote it on the back of someone’s parking ticket one day at work and it reads as follows:

1) Pass driving test.

2) Find meaningful career.

3) Stop being fat.

4) Make effort with appearance.

5) Read some classics and not just Hornblower novels.

As you can see, I am charging down the Lifestyle Highway in my Positivitymobile. I’m even joining the gym tomorrow (hereafter to be known as “The James” because that’s what I like to call it – go figure).

It’s nice to have a plan.

I’m also going LARPing with BFEmma (oh yeah, there goes our cool Emma, I just went public) in June. We accepted the invite on the basis that it is being organised by our good friend Sarah, and will not involve corsets, but will involve gore. And corpses. I am anticipating a fine weekend. And hopefully lots of lovely pictures of me dressed up like a mental patient.

Work is still wack, although I was given the opportunity to step into my manager’s shoes the other day, which says more about how desperate they were than how good I am. I spent the entire day, admittedly in “The Big Chair”, but with the heater going up me keks and subsequently ended the afternoon sweating like a fat lass. A problem made infinitely worse with the realisation that everything was going wrong. I mean, who would give me fourteen thousand quid to cash up and not think that something wouldn’t balance? Seriously? I was more than glad to resume pleb status in the morning. If my career track in the Civil Service is going to involve counting, it’ll be even longer than previously anticipated before I get on the ladder. The future of such a position is sitting here, watching Chelsea lose in a Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles (original) T-shirt and drinking orange pop from a Carry on Doctor mug, having previously been reading Bizarre magazine which this month features an amputee fetish model on the cover. I had, as Olivia Newton John is wont to say, better shape up if I’m to do any better in this life.

I’m off to attempt to put the cat’s feet in the sink and feel all warm inside about Ronaldo missing his penalty. Even if I was supporting Man U.

Laters.

xx