Sean Moore
20
July 16:34
How not to write off a Jag
Parallel parking isn't actually as hard as it looks. First attempt, granted, I didn't manage to get the car quite parallel to the kerb, but I did make a good job of manoeuvring the rear left wheel close to it without hitting anything. Apart from the kerb, that is.Later on I happily parked behind a rather nice-looking new Jag, fortunately managing to avoid causing thousands of pounds worth of damage, to the relief of my instructor.
2
July 20:33
...but having trouble stopping
Back down to earth in the evening with some home practice. Desperate for food, I persuaded my mother to let me drive her to the supermarket in the family car. Getting there wasn't too much of a problem for me, if not for her, but parking up was rather more difficult. I hadn't done parking, yet – only stopping gradually at the side of the road.Being that the car park was mostly empty of cars and blissfully devoid of chavs throwing trolleys about, the procedure was relatively risk-free for all concerned. It was not, however, error free. On the first attempt I performed the unlikely feat of parking across two – possibly three – large spaces and part of the road. On the second I managed to contain the car within one space, although at a fairly inappropriate angle. I left it at that and went to buy cookies. I might be able to dodge parked cars, drive at 70 and overtake lorries, but I've got a long way to go yet.
13:32
A little faster...
Driving at 40mph for the first time was quite intimidating. I'm well used to the road, being as it's on the route to town: a dual carriageway that's been reduced to two single lanes most of the way along in a badly-designed safety scheme. It strikes fear into the heart of cyclists who are forced to drive in the middle of the road – most wisely opt for the pavement instead.Actually driving down it, with traffic in front and behind, was something else. Suddenly I seemed to be going very fast, and I found fourth gear without breaking anything. I wasn't going that fast, of course – it's true that learner drivers do go much slower than everyone else.
More intimidating still was venturing out on to a busy A-road, full of lorries, which had been built to funnel traffic away from the previous dual carriageway. It too is a dual, and the speed limit is 70mph. It would be an exaggeration to say I was bricking it when my instructor sprung the surprise on me – "we're going to do something fun today" – but I was rather nervous. This is, after all, a road home to several accident black spots and the subject of a long safety campaign for improvements. Fun indeed. I consoled myself with the thought that the man must value his life, so I therefore must be ready for it.
In the event, it was fun. I didn't die, if that isn't clear already, and I didn't cause any accidents or injuries. In fact, I spent much of the time on there overtaking people. Most drivers, it transpires, think they can only go at 60mph. Being overtaken by a learner with a big white Toblerone on top of his car can't be the biggest boost to one's ego, but who cares...
17
June 20:49
Going further afield
Things have been progressing with my driving – right out on to roads with actual persistent traffic, in fact. And roundabouts and traffic lights too.The big leap came when I was driving along part of the usual circuit, coming up to the point where I normally turn off to avoid hitting a busy roundabout with dual carriageways. "You are going to tell me to turn off here, aren't you?" I asked the instructor as it became obvious that he wasn't going to. The answer was a cheerful negative.
And so up to the line, a fair amount of traffic streaming past. Then the big leap forward. And backward. My first roundabout stall, I was so proud. At this point the instructor decided it would be helpful to recount how one of his other students had been run into from behind at that very spot, and just how he managed to get a replacement number plate from a coach company under questionable circumstances. While interesting, this story was not particularly useful at that moment.
By the time he had finished I was across the roundabout and half way to the next, equally busy one, which I somehow managed to get round intact and without stalling, albeit in rather the wrong position. After that it was into fourth and half an hour of fun dodging buses, complaining about badly trimmed hedges and working out what on earth some drivers were trying to do outside the old people's home.
Confidence is growing, ability is growing, body count is staying the same. I'm happy.
8
June 13:42
Moving up a gear
The lack of collisions, maiming and serious trauma is starting to worry me. I haven't so much as clipped a wing mirror so far, even with the appearance of partially clothed builders and a skip.Starting to get the hang of the whole changing gear lark, although up seems to be easier than down. Forgot to signal a couple of times and got told off for speeding once. I hadn't even looked at the speedo so far, so it came as a surprise. Stopping is still a bit of an issue though – I'm not confident that I'd have been able to brake in time if a child had wandered out or a deranged old woman had decided to reverse her HGV at me. Both were unlikely, admittedly, but these things can't be ruled out entirely. It must be for eventualities like those that dual control was invented.
Today's stall count: 4 (all at junctions, once involving a pensioner)
7
June 11:49
At the biting point
And so on to my second driving lesson, and this time I set off from home instead of being driven to the destination. Anyone who knows my street knows that it winds up and down a hill, and there is usually a liberal sprinkling of parked cars in inconvenient places, not unlike a slalom course. Thankfully these were strangely absent today: presumably some of their owners go out to work from time to time. It is a while since I've been out and about at 9am.Today was my start on the learner driver circuit proper. The area around my house is a Mecca for learner drivers: they come from far and wide to experience the quiet roads, the oddly shaped junctions, the random bends and the roundabout that seems to have been created purely for learners to practise on. In any one hour there are likely to be several learners navigating the same few roads. Once there were six different companies parked up along the same stretch of road, all with their bonnets up.
Following a short delay involving a pensioner, a junction and two parked cars, I headed out to the circuit for an hour's fun. All seemed to go fairly well – no injuries for the second day running, and even up to third gear at one point.
Today's stall count: 2.
6
June 11:40
D-Day: The start of my driving life
After what seems like a lifetime of gentle persuasion, careful hint-dropping and obvious nattering from friends and family alike, I have finally given in and started driving lessons.So far, so good. The instructor seems nice enough, although his collection of mirrors is a little off-putting. After my first hour's lesson I am happy to report that I have managed to avoid hitting anyone or anything, save for the kerb a couple of times. And that was while parking (parking is probably an exaggeration – I gradually came to a stop shortly after being asked, somewhere near the side of the road), not while driving.
Most intimidating part so far: roundabouts. I'm pretty sure that I shouldn't have been on a roundabout within the first half hour of my life's driving experience. The instructor seemed to agree, but argued that it was quiet and therefore safe to proceed. This was true – the roundabout was empty, there wasn't a car in sight. Not until I was half way across, when at least 12 appeared from all directions, I hit the gas, clutch, brake and passenger eject pedals simultaneously, hurtled towards somebody's hedge, then thankfully regained control and exited the roundabout, managing to dodge an oncoming pensioner. Why anyone would become a driving instructor is beyond me, but driving itself does seem to be quite fun.
Today's stall count: 3.
5
June 20:02
A new era begins
After last week's end of an era, this morning was the beginning of a new one: News 24 Sunday is born. True to form, I slept through the first half of it – except for some reason it was on half an hour earlier than it should have been (and by that I mean the time I expected it to be on, not the time published in TV listings magazines – they have only a tenuous connection with reality anyway), so it wasn't really my fault.First impressions: very much Frost lite. It was a fairly polished programme and Peter Sissons – a long-time Frost stand-in – did well, but the whole thing seemed very cheap. Rather than coming from a dedicated set, complete with fake bookshelves and pictures of Sir David meeting Nelson Mandela, it was located in a corner of the News 24 studio, where somebody had dragged in a couple of chairs from their office and found a child-sized version of main news desk. Cramped would be an understatement. In these times of BBC budget cuts I suppose it isn't too surprising, but at this rate every programme will come from the old CBBC broom cupboard.
At least, however, Moira Stewart still has a place on the programme – although bizarrely at the giant main news desk. Why the poor woman has to be separated from everyone else I can only wonder. Perhaps it's to do with her hair.
2
June 04:30
A message to all birds
Why? Just why?Tweet, tweet, tweet. Tweet. Tweet tweet. Yes, ok, I get the message. It has no apparent purpose and it's very irritating. It's the middle of the night and I want to go to bed. You can stop it now. Please.
29
May 12:50
Top of the morning and goodbye
There's always been something reassuring about Breakfast with Frost. Every Sunday morning he would be there with a selection of big-name politicians, Iain Duncan Smith, actors, sportspeople or musicians. They would have a gentle chat; maybe drink a glass of orange juice or a cup of tea. He would be polite, they would be gracious. All in all a thoroughly pleasant way to start a Sunday.That's not to say that I watched it all that often, of course. I always intended to, but at that time on a Sunday morning the balance of probabilities was inevitably on the side of me being asleep. Sometimes I would wake up in time to watch the last few minutes through bleary eyes, although usually this meant seeing no more than a couple and then sleeping through the rest. The familiar theme tune would wake me up again, though, before further dozing during the Heaven and Earth Show.
Now, alas, Breakfast with Frost is over. Sir David's armchair and cushions have been given away in aid of Children in Need; Sir David himself is about to pay a brief visit to Sky – which he was only too happy to plug – with another old-timer, Des Lynam. He'll be back irregularly for The Frost Interviews (for some reason every programme in which he appears has to bear his name, but we somehow can't begrudge him that).
The final programme this morning had a strange feel to it. Needless to say I missed the first 20 minutes, but I made a special effort to stay awake through the rest. The strangeness came not from that, however, but from the presence of a star-studded studio audience (Ronnie Corbett, Peter Sissons, some BBC manager type with a beard...), who felt the need to applaud from time to time – including after the weather forecast. Sir David seemed unfazed by the surrealism of it all and did not descend into Jerry Springer mode. Sadly nor did the audience feel the need to shout "Sir David, Sir David" as he tackled his guests.
He was, of course, too much of a professional to break down and cry at the end of the programme, but who could have blamed him? It was an end of an era; he had Moira Stewart and Neil Kinnock on the sofa. Even the weather forecaster had ventured into the studio, still looking slightly bemused from her earlier warm reception. His voice did crack for a moment, though.
Despite all the tributes and the farewells, and the fact that Sir David must be at least 105, this didn't feel like goodbye: more like the end of one stage of his career, and the beginning of the next. We haven't seen the last of him yet.