The other C-word

Christmas. Plucked free from the festive demands of the Hotel/Pub industry, I feel more festive now than I have felt since I was about 6 years old. It is a traditional moan that 'Christmas gets earlier and earlier each year'. I used to feel that way, but, to me, it did not seem to be the case this year. Whether it is a result of the Credit Crunch, or me just wandering around with blinkers, Christmas didn't seem to get going until late November this year; whereas, in previous years, television adverts and supermarket promotions have caused me to be sick of the season before October has started.
It is Christmas Eve, a day I usually find myself behaving like a pinball, frantically trying to do all the things I should have done a month earlier. This year however, all is peace and calm. Cards have all been sent, presents have been bought AND wrapped. I have even completed all the food shopping, with the exception of one red chilli (which is just to decorate Rachel's monkfish in coconut, lime and ginger, so I can do without it). In fact, it feels wrong being (relatively) organised. I have three 2-hour lessons to give today and then.... that's it. Finished (at least until Sunday, when I am off to Ullapool for two days of lessons).
Jane and I are wrestling with a moral dilemma: Do we put Gary Glitter's Rock and Roll Christmas on the Christmas playlist? When I was 15 years old, my friend, Bearde, and I went to see Gary Glitter at Friars, Aylesbury. As far as we were concerned, he was a ridiculous, fat, old has-been (it’s funny how we considered him really old when Debbie Harry, who we considered a goddess, was only a year younger). But, it was the festive season, we both liked Leader of the Gang and Rock and Roll Pt2, it was Bearde’s birthday and we thought going to laugh at an old has-been would be a good night out. We were wrong. It wasn’t a good night out, it was a great night out. His energy, his costumes, his ability to get the whole crowd singing and dancing along, his general showmanship were all spectacular. We were so impressed we went to see him on several occasions after that. A few years later, another of my friends, Gog (Andy Gogan) married Gary Glitter’s daughter and, for years, my claim to fame was that Gary Glitter’s grand-daughter once puked on my shoulder as I held her. Anyway, I digress. Mr. Glitter has now been convicted of being a sad old perv. But, what Jane and I have discussed is whether playing Gary Glitter’s Rock and Roll Christmas suggests that we condone paedophilia. I think the sensible answer is ‘of course it doesn’t’, so we can put it on tomorrow’s playlist. After all, people are quite happy to play Jerry Lee Lewis records.

The other day Jane and I went, with Maggie, Rachel, Jamie, Anna and all three grandchildren, Jordan, Charlie and Carmen, to see Santa. He was on the Santa Special steam train which runs through the Cairngorms, from Aviemore to Boat of Garten. The snow may be causing havoc across the whole country at the moment but, when you are choo-chooing through a crisp white landscape, with fat snowflakes falling thick outside and your grandchildren agog at Father Christmas handing them presents, while we sip mulled wine… I would defy anyone not to feel Christmassy.
We are all off to Nairn beach tonight to send lanterns soaring into the night sky. The temperature is varying between -2 and -12C today, so we shall ensure we have plenty of mulled cider on the hob when we return.

I will be back, after Christmas, to bore you with more tales of being a driving instructor in the Highlands. Meanwhile, I wish you the merriest of festive seasons.

The C-word

It is an unfortunate sign of the times that we increasingly hearing this most repugnant of words. Not just on the streets, but on radio and, especially, television. Most words lose their impact with repetition, but not this one. Admit it, you would feel terrible if someone walked up to you and called you a C*well.
Yet, in some strange way, you have to admire the man. Not for his haircut, his leer, his narcism, the way he tucks his jumpers in his trousers, his HUGE self-importance or even for his total absence of humanity. No, you have to admire Simon for his success.
Not so long ago, you would have had to drag me, kicking, screaming, biting and punching, to watch The X Factor. I can't remember how it started (probably reading, or doing paperwork, while the auditions were on), but, like tens of millions of others, I developed a mild interest in the progression of various contestants. But, that's where it ends for me. In fact, I wish I had not wasted hours watching anything after the initial auditions, because it just becomes an endless succession of adverts with a bit of over-produced karaoke inbetween. And, yes, you can't deny that Joe has a good voice, but that doesn't give him (or C*well) the right to a No.1 single.
So I was in total support of the Rage against the Machine plot to blow up the Houses of X Factor. I have a very diverse taste in music, but have yet to buy (or download) a RATM track. And, even though I could take or leave their single,  Killing in the name, I fully supported the cause to get it to No.1. Over the last week, in the run-up to last Sunday's unveiling of the Christmas chart, the media were saturated with the story. On several occasions a radio or television show would play the last four Christmas No.1s (all by X Factor winners); how soul-less and forgetable they all were. I honestly have no idea how Shayne Ward's That's my goal, Leona Lewis's A moment like this, or Leon Jackson's When you believe sound. I only know Alexandra Burke's  Hallelujah because I knew Leonard Cohen and Jeff Buckley's versions. C'mon, what we want is Phil Spector's Christmas songs, a bit of Slade or even (I can't believe I am saying this) Mariah Carey. The only two acts in the last THIRTY years to have had Christmas songs at No.1 are Cliff Richard and Band Aid (in its different incarnations).
Of course, you could argue that the Facebook campaign to get RATM to No.1 was no more in the spirit of the season than an X Factor campaign. Some radio stations thought so. I was listening to MFR (Moray Firth Radio) the other day, hoping to hear the local weather/road report. The DJ was saying that they had received many requests for them to play Killing in the name, but 'they would not be playing it because they did not think it was what their listeners wanted to hear'. No, I couldn't work that one out either. I switched back to Radio 1 (which, Chris Moyles aside, seems to have improved significantly over the last year).
I would love to believe that this is the start of the revolution. Wouldn't it be great if we were able to look back and see that this was the time when we began to eschew pre-packaged, saccharin-sweet muzak in favour of real music with more heart and soul. Unfortunately, with the likes of Journey finding success (as a result of Joe covering Don't stop believing), and The X Factor promising to return, bigger and 'better' next year, it seems as though it could be a five-minute revolution. Where are the likes of The Clash and The Sex Pistols when we need them most?
Apparently, Mr Cowell called Jon Morter (who started the RATM campaign) to congratulate him on winning the battle. I suspect that SC had already congratulated himself on the fact that this much-hyped 'battle' had given him (oh, and Joe, of course) even more publicity than he could have hoped for, and thus more sales. He's a clever C*well.

Dad, can I borrow your car now?

It’s grey, so it must be Grantown. No, that’s not fair, I have had some beautiful days here in Strathspey. Unfortunately, today is not one of them.

I am sat in a cosy café, with soft bacon rolls and an espresso for brunch. Meanwhile, Andy is out on his test (first attempt) and, although the rain isn’t as atrocious as it was for (his girlfriend) Verity’s test last month, it is still a mucky day.
Andy is a confident, but controlled driver. However, he is feeling the pressure because Verity passed first time and, also, because he has told everyone about his test; so he has been taking a bit of stick the last few days.
Almost everyone who tells friends and family when they are taking their test regrets doing so. I can understand the excitement when the test is first booked and they want others to share in their excitement that they could soon be free to drive wherever they want. As the test approaches, however, the regular mentions of the test often begin to add to their nerves. It often seems to be the case that, if they don’t pass first time, they keep it quiet the second time. As much as I try to reassure pupils, who have already sat one test, that they have no reason to be nervous because they have been through it before, it is quite common to have more nerves the second time. Glynn, who passed last week, said that he was far more nervous on his 4th test, than he was on his 1st.

I can proudly announce that Andy passed his test. I am sure Verity will be gracious enough not to mention that she passed with less minor faults than Andy. But, a pass is a pass. So, well done, and maybe now your dad will let you drive his VW convertible (although I doubt that you will want to have the roof down at the moment).

Sadly for me, it means I leave Grantown-on-Spey/Aviemore to concentrate on other areas of Northern Scotland. I shall miss those drives over the Dava moor. However, Andy’s efforts this morning mean that I still have a 100% pass rate in Grantown. Tomorrow I am hoping Eddie can further improve my pass rate in Inverness (despite never having had a lesson there - he lives near Elgin).

Lighten up

You may (or may not) remember me being somewhat dismissive a couple of weeks ago, when Glynn cheerfully predicted (after failing his third test) that he would follow the family sequence and pass on his fourth attempt. I wasn't being dismissive of Glynn, just his logic. It just shows you what I know; I am happy to say that Glynn did pass on his 4th attempt yesterday. I was a wee bit concerned because it was -4C when I started my day.... I was very worried that the test would be cancelled. The first few tests of the day were cancelled, but, after the temperature had soared to a sweltering 3C, Glynn's test went ahead. He did his best to mess it up (with 11 minor faults), but he obviously showed enough of his obvious (to me) ability to satisfy the examiner.

Before Glynn's test I had a lesson with a new pupil, Jed, in Inverness. That went very well, but I was stunned by some of the driving I witnessed on the way to (and from) Inverness. As I have said, it was -4C and fog covered the whole area. As a result, I have decided to give you a little quiz:

1. Fog lights should be used when...
a) Visibility is less than 100m.
b) When it is raining.
c) When you are in a red light district.

2. Dipped headlights should be used ...
a) When visibility is reduced due to weather conditions and during the hours of darkness (half an hour after sunset - half an hour before sunrise).
b) When you are an Audi driver and want to show off the twinkly lights around the headlights.
c) When you are dogging.

3. Sidelights should be used ....
a) When parked at night on a road with a speed limit greater than 30mph.
b) On any roads at dusk/dawn, regardless of speed.
c) When in thick fog.

4. When driving in thick fog, you should....
a) Use dipped headlights and foglights.
b) Use headlights on full beam.
c) Use sidelights, or save energy by driving without any lights.

If you answered mostly a)s: Well-done. You are a bit of a girly swat, but you know your lights.
If you answered mostly b)s: Hmmm. You don't really give much thought to your driving and just do what you have seen others do.
If you answered mostly c)s: Tear up your driving licence and stick to public transport. Console yourself with the fact that, unbelievably, there are others like you.

You may have gathered from that little challenge that yesterday, in thick fog, I saw people driving, at 60mph, with just sidelights and, incredibly, with NO lights at all. Firstly, sidelights: What's the problem? Is it just too much effort to turn that light control one extra click? Unless driving in well-lit roads, with a maximum speed limit of 30mph, sidelights should ONLY be used when parked. And for those driving with no lights, what is wrong with you? Sure, go ahead, kill yourself and remove yourself from the genepool, but you risk taking killing (or injuring) someone else too.

Apologies for my little rant but, the next time you hear of a multi-vehicle pile up in foggy conditions, I will bet money on insufficient lighting being one of the causes. Be safe, be seen.

p.s. Well done Glynn (I like to end on a happy note).

Blood out of a stone

Very well done Duncan on passing your test with only two minor faults. Have fun shopping for cars and enjoy your driving.

My theory that pupils would obey me as they would a god was well and truly dashed this afternoon. No, I didn't ask one to jump off a cliff; I was with one of my pupils, practicing Bay parking.
We have done this several times before, so I sat back and left him to it. He selected the bay he was going to reverse into, put the car into reverse and was just about to release the handbrake when I asked "Is it safe to reverse?" ..... nothing. He released the handbrake and I put my foot on the dual brake. "Is it safe to reverse?" I repeated. "Er...." He replied before half-heartedly looking around and starting to reverse. He tried to judge his position solely by looking over his right shoulder and made a complete hash of the manoeuvre.
I asked him to secure the car and switch off. I questioned him on the dangers of not making effective observations before reversing and (eventually) got the answers I was looking for. I then questioned him on how he could better judge his position in relation to the bay, but he didn't know. (Bear in mind that this was supposed to be a quick practice of something we have done several times before) I got my whiteboard out and gave a full, detailed instruction on how to reverse the car into the bay.
"Are we going now?" he asked.
"No, not yet. We are going to perfect it this time." I (optimistically) instructed.
He moved forward, out of the bay, and prepared the car to reverse. "Is it safe?" I prompted.
No answer. He just released the handbrake and started reversing. I dualled him again.
"How can you know that is safe to reverse without looking?"
"Oh. Er...." (followed by the briefest of looks around the car).
I kept my foot on the brake while I watched the confusion on his face because the car wasn't moving.
"What are you looking for?"
"Other people." he mumbled before making another hash of the manoeuvre.
I explained exactly what had gone wrong and how he could improve. More diagrams and reminders that he must make effective observations before and during the maneouvre in order to reverse safely and accurately.
In one ear and out the other. There were barely any observations before reversing and he scraped into the bay, more by luck than judgement.
"Right. Off we go." I suggested. He looked at me with more confusion. He obviously knew that it wasn't good enough and probably expected me to tell him to do it again. But I was bored.... bored of my voice echoing back from the inside of his head.

Perhaps I wasn't godly enough. Perhaps I should have looked him in the eye and declared "I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to ignore my instruction." Although, when Samuel L. Jackson says something similar, the fact that he is waving a .45 gives it a certain directness. I doubt that me saying it, while waving a dry-wipe pen will have quite the same effect.

God complex.

Whether you are starting a new school, a new job or meeting a new group of people, that first day can be a source of anxiety to some. Many of my pupils will admit that they are quite nervous when they meet me for their first lesson. Understandable of course, although I would be slightly concerned if they were even more nervous about meeting me for their second lesson.
When I trained to become a driving instructor there were often other trainees in the sessions. As the training progressed, one of the other trainees was clearly nervous about the prospect of teaching for the first time. Bob, our trainer, tried to reassure her, "Don't worry, you know far more about driving than your pupil does, and that's what your pupil will be thinking. As far as your pupil is concerned, you are God." Well, I don't see St.Peter standing at my garden gate right now, and I certainly don't have a big, grey beard, but we got the drift of what he was saying. In fact, my power over my pupils, my divine omnipotence was clearly demonstrated yesterday:

I had picked one of my pupils up and we were driving along the A96, a 60mph single-carriageway that links Inverness with Aberdeen. He was keeping up with the flow of traffic, at 60mph, when a truck (HH Distribution Ltd, registration number SY55BKE) pulled out in front of him. It was a completely straight road, with good visibility, but the truck driver obviously thought 'A learner - I must get out before him'. Without prompting, my pupil checked his mirror and braked progressively until we reached a safe following distance. I use such incidents as learning tools and we discussed how the truck driver should have judged a safe opportunity to emerge from the junction, and the possible consequences of misjudging that gap. Then I made my own misjudgement...
"I think we should overtake the truck so that I can pass the driver one of my business cards." Jokingly trying to imply that the driver might benefit from further driving lessons. But I was caught out when I my pupil began checking his mirrors, accelerating and about to indicate right (as if to overtake). "NO. We are NOT going to overtake." I hastily ordered. I apologised and explained my lame joke. Rather than rupture his spleen in apoplectic hysterics, he simply replied "Oh. I did wonder why you were telling me to overtake. I wasn't sure I wanted to."
In my next lesson I will experiment with my power. I will take the pupil to a cliff and ask them to jump off.

Counting chickens

Firstly, congratulations to Iain on passing his test on Thursday. That made it a very balanced week, as far as tests are concerned; one pass, one fail and one cancellation (see previous posts). Another six tests to go before xmas; one in Elgin, one in Inverness and three in Ullapool.
Nothing in particular I wanted to write about today, just abstract ramblings, but, if you have read my blog before, you should be used to that by now.
Once again, I am over in Ullapool, with the bright wintery sun casting long shadows over the golden scenery and the shimmering Loch Broom. The snowline has descended, meaning many more hills and mountains are capped with the white stuff, but it is still pleasant enough to be able to have the windows open at times.
I was chatting with the landlady of Creagan House, which is my B&B of choice whenever I am here. When I told her that I live over near Brodie and Forres, she said “Och, it’s lovely over there.” “Yes, it is,” I replied “but I prefer it over here.” “Really? Perhaps we should swap.” She suggested. “Be careful. I may take you up on that.”
It’s funny how much you take where you live for granted. Some of my pupils love Ullapool, but others can’t wait to move away. I remember my friend, Bearde, his girlfriend, Jane, and me staying with friends in New Jersey for a couple of weeks. The first day there, they asked us what we wanted to do. We wanted to go into Manhattan (15 - 20 miles away) and see the sights, so we told them that we would like to go up the Empire State building. “That’s a great idea. We’ve never done that.” It seemed incredible to us that they lived in view of the Empire State, yet had never been up it.
Just waiting for my next lesson, with Laura. She is not taking things for granted. She lives up in Lochinver, 37 miles north of Ullapool. Not only does her mum or dad have to do a 74 mile round trip for her driving lessons, but she has to do the same journey (by bus) every morning/afternoon for school. Hard to imagine isn’t it? I had to travel five miles by bus/coach to get to my schools, which I thought was long enough, but 37 miles would have been an expedition. Having said that, I often used to hurriedly try and do my homework whilst on the morning bus to school. With a 37 mile trip, I could have got all my homework done.

Finally, to continue with the theme of taking things for granted, I am amazed how, as a result of the draw for the 2010 World Cup, England are joint-favourites with some bookies. I’m English, so of course I want England to do well, but surely we are being premature in our celebrations? If Algeria, Slovenia and the USA needed any further incentive to beat us, our reaction to the draw has surely given it to them. I have nothing against Emile Heskey, but, if Wayne Rooney does ok at Manchester without a Heskey-type partner, then surely Jemaine Defoe would be a better bet as his partner for England. Or maybe we should recall Robbie Fowler….. now there was a striker.

(Postscript: A few hours after writing this, Jermaine Defoe missed an awful penalty. D'Oh!)