Yesterday Charlie came back with his head held high. His instructor told him, ‘for the last hour I haven’t had to tell you anything. Drive like that on Friday and you’ll be okay.’ So things are looking sunny again. Today, his instructor’s taking him on along test routes and through our busy towns. He’s told him ‘I’ll just tell you when to turn. If you go wrong I won’t shout.’ He’s very lucky to have this ex-army man for an instructor. The guy that’s off due to bereavement, told Charlie, that it’s his policy to yell and shout.

‘Sometimes,’ he admitted, ‘I’ve made grown men cry.’ That must go a long way to instilling confidence in his clients—I don’t think! To me, it’s obvious why two, learner-bus-drivers failed last week.

One of them is retaking his test today. Fingers crossed for him.

I’ve searched the house from top to bottom for Charlie’s glasses. And believe me, searching through our junk-laden garage, is like trying to get around a military obstacle course.

Admittedly, when the loosely screwed plastic bottle came tumbling from the shelf, I muttered some choice words. The smelly petrol shower resulted in everything -right down to my teddy slippers – being run through the wash.

Ah well, I hope Charles fares better…