Ding dong

We were hardly in the mood for it, but Thursday morning Jane and I flew from Inverness to Luton for the wedding of Chris, my youngest brother, to Sondra, from Canada.

To cut a long story short, we had a great time. Four days of doing practically nothing except lots of eating and drinking. Jane and I are both used to constantly thinking ahead, ticking off items in our mental 'to-do' lists. So it took a while to get used to sitting back and just letting things happen.

Many thanks to Ian and Leslie, and Mum and Peter for their generous hospitality. In between, I thought the staff at Horwood House struck an excellent balance between attentiveness and informality.

A couple of weeks before the wedding, Leanne, Sondra's sister sent secret emails to as many guests as possible, suggesting that we all did a spontaneous flash mob' dance at some point during the evening. It read "Hi! I'm Sondra's sister Leanne, and I'm trying to arrange something very special (and secret) for the wedding of Sondra and Chris: a flash mob! For those of you unfamiliar with the term, this is basically a surprise dance performed by everyone. The "choreography" is very, very simple; the effect is based on surprise and size. It's going to be tricky to arrange, with people coming from around the world, but that's just what makes it special; no way are they going to suspect that this is what we are up to!" You may have seen adverts, or clips on YouTube, where, suddenly, lots of people start dancing in a train station, for example. A nice idea, I thought. It would certainly be a surprise for them. I read the email and thought 'I will discretely keep out of the way – it may be a good time to go to the bar.' Further emails followed, with detailed instructions and even videos on YouTube on how to do the dance (to 'I got a feeling' by The Black Eyed Peas). The choreography was definitely NOT 'very, very simple', but then anything beyond pogo-ing is going to be complicated to me. I was not alone; both my mother and Ian, my other brother, were adamant that they would not be getting involved. We agreed that it would not matter because surely all the Canadian side of the family would be less reserved and happy to join the flash mob.
Friday morning, the morning of the wedding, and Jane and I went to Sondra's so that Jane could do her nails. Leanne was also there and, when Sondra was not listening, asked me if I had been practising the dance? 'Alas not,' I replied - what with Ullapool driving tests and Doris it had been the last thing on my mind - and I made some excuse about not getting time to see the video. "Oh, don't worry," she reassured me, "just follow what I do and there will be a bit where you and Matthew (Chris' son) do a little solo bit, so just follow Matthew at that point." Damn! There seemed to be no way out of this.

We went over to Ian's to get dressed for the wedding and I quickly went online to have a look at Leanne's YouTube video. I tried to con Ian into believing that he HAD to do the dance, so the two of us stood in his front room hopelessly practising this stupid dance - we couldn't even get past the first swirly-arm bit. We both took different options; Ian's was to point-blank refuse to do the dance, mine was to point-blank refuse to do the dance sober.
It was a great day. The weather was perfect, the hotel did a good job of looking after us without getting in the way, I did my MC-ing bit, the speeches were all good and everyone was having a good time. Chris and Sondra looked like they were bursting with happiness.
My step-daughter, Rachel, thought the prospect of me dancing completely hilarious and insisted that someone video the event. Unfortunately for her (but fortunately for me), no-one seems to have done so. So you will just have to take my word for it that, after some beers, wine, champagne and many Tanqueray and tonics, my performance in the flash mob dance would have brought a tear to the eye of Michael Jackson, Gene Kelly and the like.

Let loose

Always nice to get feedback from pupils once they have passed their test and have done some driving without me.

Last week, Kim was texting me within a couple of hours of passing her test to let me know that she had already insured her car and had been out driving. Then, yesterday, Ruth text me to say “Just thought I’d let you know I drove for the 1^st time all by myself today and I didn’t die!!!”

 I replied “That’s great…. Assuming no-one else died.”

Her reply was not the most convincing, “Not that I am aware of, but then I may not have noticed!”

Born to run

My wife can be a bit impulsive at times. She seems to have no fear of making spur-of-the-moment decisions. In December 2001 we had a pub in Castor, Cambridgeshire and lived there with our ageing Golden Retriever, 'Daisy'. One day she went over to her friend's house and came back with a puppy. Her friend's Parsons Terrier had just had a litter and, when Jane entered the room, one of the puppies clambered out of the bed and stumbled excitedly over towards her. Jane was immediately smitten and, as the puppies were for sale, decided to buy her. We named her 'Doris'. I can't remember exactly why, but it seemed to go well with 'Daisy'.

Daisy was a very patient surrogate mother and never seemed bothered when Doris would grab Daisy's tail in her teeth and swing round in the air as Daisy spun around. I remember the day she arrived, Doris was small enough to sit in the palm of my hand, but it wasn't long before she was big enough to go jogging with me and developed a habit of scampering up me and perching smugly on my shoulder. Her other habits included running off to the village cricket club and returning with long-lost cricket balls that she had found in the bushes. These tough leather balls she then proceeded to rip apart in minutes.

When she was about 6 months old we entered her in the village fête’s terrier race, which, despite being the youngest entrant, she won easily. Then, the next Christmas, she worried us by joining a pack of Fox Hounds as they were just about to start their hunt. She just seemed to get faster and faster. She would run alongside Jane when she was out on her horse and, when I would practice my bowling at cricket, she would start alongside me and still manage to catch the ball before it had bounced twice (although that may be more a reflection of my bowling, rather than Doris' speed).

Even when we bought Daphne, a whippet, as a companion, Doris could (almost) keep up with her. But even more impressive than her outright speed was her stamina; whether it was me riding my bike through Culbin Forest, or Jane riding her horse along the long beaches around Nairn, Doris would continuously run ahead, double back to check that we were keeping up, run ahead again and so on, endlessly running in long loops, so that she must have run at least twice the distance we covered.

Last Christmas, I wrote that the best Christmas present was that, after a week of being ill, Doris recovered. She was soon back out running, and leaping high into the air to catch the water whenever anyone used the hose to water the garden. So it was very worrying when she fell ill again a couple of weeks ago.

Last Wednesday, I was having a good day; three test passes and two new pupils. Then, just before my last lesson, Jane called me to say that Doris had suddenly deteriorated and, the vets not knowing what was wrong, had been put to sleep. Jane brought her home and I had a 90 minute drive home, knowing that I would have to bury her when I got home at 10pm that night.

Apologies if you come here hoping to read about driving instruction in the Highlands. Doubtless you have no interest in my dogs. However, I write this for myself as much as anyone and Doris was such a vital part of my life the last ten years I just wanted to remember her here. We still have Jilly, our black Retriever, and Daphne, the Whippet, and they seem a bit subdued, but there is a big, big void in our house where Doris used to be.

She had a wonderful life and made our life great fun. Doris – The best dog in the world ever (no argument) - R.I.P.

Ups and downs and ups.

6.47am. Third (sometimes fourth) Wednesday in the month, so you know the score by now. I have x number of pupils taking their test in Ullapool. Yawn. Well, you don't have to read on if you don't want to.

We have been on a really good run. In March I had 6 pupils (out of 8) pass, then last month, all three passed (2 with 1 minor fault, 1 with 2 minor faults). Today I have 5 pupils on test. I am as confident as I can be about all of them, but you never know. Two of them in particular could be chauffeurs, their driving is so calm and precise, but all it takes is one momentary lapse and they come back with a fail.

9.50am. A good start. Congratulations to Matthew, passing with 3 minor faults on his first attempt. I enjoyed a Big Hot Roll (Bacon, sausage and egg) and a pot of Earl Grey at the Tea Store café while he was out and I was mildly concerned when I saw him approaching a motor-home that was stopped opposite the road he wanted to turn into, and immediately before a blind bend – it could not have picked a worse spot to park. No problem; he brought his speed right down, indicated and moved out nice and early before committing himself to pass (although a few minutes later I learned that one of his three faults had been selecting second gear a bit too early at that particular point). Anyway, a job well done and good luck with your band, 'Torridon', on the festival circuit this year.

11.01am. So far, so good. Kim, five months pregnant, and feeling under pressure to pass first time as a result, did just that; passing with 6 minor faults. As a passenger, she is possibly one of the most relaxing drivers I have had the pleasure to teach. A touch careless with the indicators and a bit of coasting, but I'm very pleased that both you and the examiner now agree with me that you can drive.

11.45am. Congratulations to Ruth. Another first-time pass. I shall miss our lessons. It was the theoretical questions she posed me that made her lessons one of the week's highlights. Questions such as “What do I do in my test if there is a spider in the car?” and, on one memorable occasion, when I asked her to pull up just by the next lamp-post, she asked “What's a lamp-post”? I considered that, being an intelligent lady, she was being all philosophical and existential, but no, she was just being dizzy. There were many more questions that tested the limits of my knowledge, but I hope I tested hers too.

Turned a bit chilly now. The sun is trying to come out, but the wind is a bit fresh. I am sat on a tree stump at The Pottery Centre, which is where the tests begin and end. My pupil currently out on test is the only one not taking her test for the first time today. I was so convinced she would pass last time (March), but she allowed herself to get too close to a slow-moving truck and consequently failed. Usually, I could let her drive around without saying a word, but nerves have got to her today and, in the four minutes we had to practice before her test, there were a couple of silly blips, such as slowing right down and engaging 1^st gear for a junction that could easily have been negotiated in 2^nd. Nothing serious, but it won't help her nerves. This is the trouble with Ullapool tests; because they are literally back-to-back, with barely 5 – 10 minutes between them, my pupils are often fairly 'cold' when they go out on test. Virtually all my pupils in other areas ask for an hour's lesson immediately preceding their test; I know I did when I took my test. However, I have two pupils in Elgin, with tests approaching, that both want to just meet me at the test centre, with no lessons beforehand. Their reasoning is that their nerves would build up in the hour before. I will go along with their wishes, but I have told them that I will keep that preceding hour free in case they change their mind.

I was amused earlier to learn that another instructor had been trying to poach one of my pupils. The cheek of it! Not just once, but on several occasions, he has asked her if she wants lessons with him, despite the fact that she has told him she is having lessons with me. Ultimately, it is the pupil's decision, but I just have to make sure that my pupils enjoy their lessons and feel as though they are making good progress. Hopefully then, they will stick with me rather than go with an unprofessional trainee instructor.

1.41pm. Alas, my fourth test pupil of the day was unsuccessful. She had to emerge out of a tricky uphill T-junction, with parked vehicles restricting her view on both sides. I wasn't sat in on the test, so I don't know, but the examiner said that she had not made thorough enough checks on both sides before emerging. At the moment she is angry and concerned that she has 'let me down'. She has done no such thing. I think her driving is comfortably good enough to pass the test, and she never lets me down in her lessons. Perhaps she honestly believed it was safe to emerge, but the examiner had not yet made up his mind. It's no big deal. It's not life or death and she'll get another chance before too long.

My last test pupil of the day is currently out, negotiating the coach-loads of tourists who are wandering aimlessly around the harbour area, and the other drivers who are doing U-turns in crossroads. I have to confess, I'm a bit jittery about her. Her last few lessons have been great and, at the end of her last lesson, I told her I was sad. “Why's that?” She asked. “Because you don't need me anymore.” was my (honest) reply. However, in the lesson immediately before her test she didn't seem to be concentrating fully and her steering was not as accurate as I would have liked. A bit of concentration though, and she should be fine.

2.39pm. Not enough concentration, obviously. Only a handful of minor faults, but a serious fault for her steering. (Hate to say I told you so, as The Hives once said). Sadly, she will not get another chance as she is returning to Poland in a couple of weeks as she and her fiancé prepare for their wedding. At least she went away smiling and confident that she would pass in Poland (so long as she maintains a bit more control on her steering).

As always (with the exception of last month), I am a bit disappointed not to have every pupil pass. Three out of five pupils isn't too bad, but it actually reduces my pass rate. Not that that is of any concern to Kim who has just text me to let me know that she has already sorted out her insurance and has been driving around the village on her own. That's what it is all about and I'm sure the two that did not pass today will soon be able to join her.
Just about time for a quick late lunch and yet another pot of tea before my last five lessons of the day (including two brand new pupils). So, despite the two hiccups and a very long day, I am rewarded with two of the best aspects of this job: Three test passes and new pupils. I would have a little dance, but I might spill my tea.

 

The storm before the lull

Tuesday 17th.

I'm actually taking four days off from Thursday – the first time I have taken this much time off in maybe four years. Jane and I are flying back to sunny Bedfordshire for my youngest brother's wedding.

Meanwhile, there is no gently easing into a holiday mode for me; quite the opposite in fact. Today began with two lessons in Elgin, popping in at home to let the dogs out, dropping a birthday card round to my step-daughter's boyfriend in Auldearn, followed by a lesson in Nairn, driving to Inverness to collect some bits and pieces for the wedding, a lesson in Inverness followed by the pupil driving to Ullapool, then five lessons in Ullapool, finally finishing over twelve hours after I started.

Tomorrow is equally busy: Five tests and six other lessons, starting at eight in the morning and finally getting home just before ten at night. Don't misunderstand me – I'm certainly not complaining, I thrive on days like these. I remember a day, a few years ago, where I had five 2-hour lessons. I have to confess that, by the last lesson, I was struggling and probably didn't give the best tuition I was capable of. But, by the ninth lesson today, I still felt that the pupil was getting their money's worth.

And tomorrow isn't so daunting as might first appear: Once the examiner comes out and meets my pupil, there is nothing I can do for the next forty-five minutes. I might wander off for a coffee and maybe update this blog, or I sit in the back of the test and try to enjoy the ride. So it's not as if I will will be working eleven continuous hours.

Anyway, blah, blah, blah, boring, boring, boring..... You've heard all this stuff before.... Virtually every month in Ullapool. So I'll jump ahead to my hols...

Chris, my brother, marries the lovely Sondra in Little Horwood on Friday and, from mine and Jane's point of view, it will be the first time we have returned south of the border in over four years. Looking forward to seeing friends and family that we haven't seen in that time and looking forward to letting my hair down (all 5 millimetres of it). I do have a duty to perform: I am MC at the wedding breakfast. When I used to work at the Newton Hotel and the Bunchrew House Hotel this used to be part of my job. Initially I found this quite daunting as I was responsible for hosting the most important day (hopefully) of a couple's life. I would spend a great deal of time memorising every single detail of the day's itinerary so that there be no hiccups. I cringe when I remember one particular wedding when, just as the bride and groom were about to be piped in to the dining hall, I banged the gavel and announced “Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding and give a warm welcome to.........” I froze... I could not remember their names........ “..............the happy couple.” It was best I could come up with. Hopefully, I shouldn't have that problem with Chris and Sondra.

There's more I want to write about, but, for the time being, it is a secret from some people, so I shall have to wait until I get back on Monday.

Get orff moi land!

Just down the road from my house is the village primary school. Just behind my house is the village hall, with a small car-park. Inevitably, when parents arrive to drop off or collect their children, they tend to park along the road, as close to the school as possible, rather than park in the car-park. It's only for a few minutes (usually), so it causes us little inconvenience. Every now and then, a parent will park in front of our drive. We know when school starts/ends so, if we anticipate leaving the house around those times, we simply park in the car-park so that we don't get blocked in.

As driving instructors, we have to be careful not to antagonise local residents. Not so much now, but it used to be quite common to see several driving schools all doing 3-point turns ('Turn-in-the-road's if you insist) on the same stretch of road. A ridiculous situation and it must have been irritating to locals using that road. In a few locations, complaints to the DSA have led to the Chief examiner asking driving schools not to use those areas for tuition.

You hear similar stories all over Britain. I particularly liked the story of an estate in England where the local residents repeatedly complained about driving schools using the surrounding roads. All the instructors got together and agreed with those residents that they would no longer drive on those roads. Of course, the residents satisfaction was short-lived when they discovered that no driving school would collect or return pupils on that estate.

The fact is, driving instructors tend to be far more considerate of where they drive and park than most drivers. And when we teach our pupils the very basics of moving off and stopping we emphasise that we look to stop somewhere that is Safe, Legal and Convenient.

So it was particularly disappointing what happened to me today.

We were nearing the end of the lesson and my pupil was approaching a very blind T-junction. Her initial approach was good, but she let the car creep out a bit too fast and I used the dual brakes. I wanted her to pull over so that we could discuss her approach. The road ahead had a row of terraced cottages on the left with double-yellow lines along most of the road. At a few intervals were parking spaces (about 3 cars long) reserved for permit holders. There was not one single car parked on this road. I asked my pupil to pull over in one of the parking spaces so that we could briefly discuss the last junction. We were not parking there, we were pausing there. While we analysed her approach to the junction and the possible consequences, a car (and, of course, it had to be an Audi) approached from ahead and parked on our side of the road, stopping barely six inches from the front of our car. The woman driving the car got out and, without a glance at us, entered the cottage immediately next to her car. My pupil and I were both slightly stunned by this – she must surely have seen us in the car and been aware that we would now have to reverse before we could move off.

Less than a minute later we had analysed the fault and agreed to drive round and approach the junction again. My pupil started the car and, just as we were about to reverse, the woman who had 'parked' the Audi came out of the cottage and started waving something at me. I asked my pupil to turn off the car and I opened the window. I then realised that she was waving a resident's parking permit at me. I apologised and explained that I had asked my pupil to pull up, just for a moment, to discuss the junction. “Well you should be teaching her the rules of the road, such as where she shouldn't park!” was her sharp reply.

There were no other cars parked, so it was not as though we were occupying the only space outside her cottage. It was obvious that it was a pupil learning to drive and not someone who had ignorantly parked their car and gone off somewhere. It was obvious that the woman had parked her car in such a way to inconvenience us as much as possible. It was obvious that she was an arse.

As tempting as it was to spell this out to her, it does me no good to antagonise the situation, so I apologised and assured her that we would not stop there in future.

I think my pupil was as stunned by this woman's attitude as I was and we were both silent for a few seconds as we drove away. I tried to divert our thoughts by talking my pupil through her approach to the next couple of junctions, but my mind was still distracted by this woman's actions. Even now, several hours later, it still niggles me.

Pupils have to learn to drive somewhere and the large majority of people who complain about driving schools will themselves have learned to drive at some time. As I have said before, my pupils learn from the examples of others, good and bad. If I see an example of good, considerate driving, I will highlight this to my pupils and encourage them to follow this example. If we see bad practice we can learn how not to do things.

So, perhaps I should look at the positives. Not only did my pupil learn how to correctly approach a blind T-junction, but she also learned how not to be an arse.  

If I were a Jedward

The Sunday Times published its annual rich list last weekend. Suffice to say, I was not in it this year. The 1000th most wealthy person in the UK is estimated to be worth £70M. I will have to give nearly three million lessons to reach this amount. If I do 40 lessons a week, I could make the list in just over seventy thousand weeks, or, if you prefer, sometime in the year 3,384AD. There has been recent news that people will live to a much greater age - possibly as old as several hundred years - but it looks unlikely that I will ever make the Sunday Times rich list.

Perhaps I could increase my lesson prices. If I set myself the slightly more attainable target of being the 1000th richest person in Scotland, I could reach that by retirement age if I raise my lesson prices to about £1,130 per hour. Hmmm, I'm not sure that would be popular with my pupils.
What is a reasonable price for a lesson? I know that I am not the most expensive instructor in my area, but nor am I the cheapest. You will often see instructors or driving schools offering seemingly very cheap lessons, particularly as an introductory offer to new pupils. I can understand that. Effectively it is the bait on the end of the line, with the idea being that, once a pupil has begun lessons, they will stick with that instructor at the full rate after the introductory offer has ended.
This is what the website http://www.drivingtestsuccess.com/ has to say about 'cheap' lessons:

"Don't be fooled by overly cheap driving lessons. Some driving schools may offer cheap introductory offers such as ten hours driving tuition for £50. These prices don't always add up. Remember cheap in, expensive out. They pull you in with a cheap deal but then you find yourself advised to have more tuition, at the standard rate, than you actually need. All driving schools need to make a profit. You won't get something for nothing.

Quality over quantity. 30 hours of lessons at £20 an hour is cheaper than 40 hours of lessons at £17 per hour. As I say driving instructors have to earn a reasonable living, they have to pay the bills. If an instructor told you you needed several more lessons before you were likely to pass your test would you take their advice? You probably would, but what if the real motive was to compensate for the cheap lesson prices?

In order to earn a living instructors who offer overly cheap lessons need to work exceedingly long hours. This means long hours in control of a car, often with little in the way of proper breaks. Is this safe? Does it affect their ability to teach? Do these long hours spent chasing a livable wage mean the ADI can keep up-to-date with all current training standards as set out by the DSA? They also need to reduce their business costs I.E. use less petrol, which means less driving for the learner taking the lesson.

Driving instructors offering cheap lessons do so because they do not have the teaching skills to charge more. They are likely to offer poor teaching standards with little or no knowledge of how to teach to the needs of each learner. Their lessons will be of the 'one size fits all' variety, which is fine if you fit that size perfectly, not so if you are a unique individual. "
(Cut and paste can be very handy at times).

I once had a pupil ask me how some instructors can charge less than half of what most instructors charge. Basically, they are desperate. They are probably not good enough to generate pupils through recommendations and have to resort to drastic undercutting. By the time they have accounted for their fuel, insurance, servicing, depreciation (or leasing costs) and numerous other expenses, they are making nothing. And they are not taking into account the thousands of pounds they spent on their training and exams to become an instructor in the first place. They manage to keep going by making sure the pupil takes far more lessons than they would have if they had gone with a reputable instructor.
But do you really need an instructor in the first place? Possibly not. It is not compulsory (in this country) to have lessons with a qualified instructor before taking your test, and there are people who pass without having any professional lessons. But even this can be a false economy. A few years ago, a friend of my step-daughter had his own car and spent years driving around on a provisional licence, with family or friends alongside him. After five unsuccessful attempts at the driving test (approx' £310 of test fees), he was advised to take lessons. He had five lessons with me (after all, he had been driving for years) and passed on his next attempt (cost of lessons + test = Approx' £180).

But none of this solves my problem of not being in the Sunday Times Rich list. I have discovered that the least money required to make any part of the survey is £2 million. This is the estimated worth of the =19th richest in Ireland, aged 30 and under. Is this some computer whizz-kid? A land-owner? An inventor? Maybe someone who can sing a bit? No. The =19th richest people in Ireland (under the age of 31) are Jedward. Very little to do with their singing ability, but much more to do with their freak factor and stiff hair.

All I have to do then, is make a tool of myself on national television, move to Ireland, ask my step-daughter to do something zany with my hair, find an identical twin and lie about my age. Then, having done that, maybe I too could have a picture of me with Scooby-Doo in the Sunday Times Rich List.









(Sigh) Maybe I'll just stick to instructing and poverty.