Condition management was very dry today, lots of psychology. I survived it though, and had lunch with Timmy in Wetherspoons after hunting (fruitlessly as it turned out) for library books of knitting patterns. Mum popped in for a chat, then Timmy went to a student adaptation of Dracula (probably dire) and I went to PC World with my laptop. I left PC World with my laptop shortly after arriving, as their set fee for fixing laptops is
£229
whatever the problem is. I made for Burslem and CTS, the people we've been to before and had good service from. The chap in the shop was equally shocked at PC World's effrontery, which leads me to hope that he won't quote me anything like that much. Fingers crossed. I could almost buy a basic new laptop for that. The cheek.

Mum has bought me a new book of knitting patterns, yay :) and I have made a start on a pretty baby cardigan. I'm making it to the 3-6 months measurements, in case of delays and not being able to find someone to sew it all together. I am honest about my needlework shortcomings and in the main they consist of a total lack of enthusiasm for the entire realm of sewing needles. Mary is coming to Staffordshire to see the dentist tomorrow; I may enlist her sewing services in my other craft projects.

This cold is still here and is making me ready for my bed, now that I have briefly discussed with a friend his most recent foray into novel-writing. I slept atrociously last night and have been out for most of today (and I haven't eaten a Chinese takeaway) so I am hopeful that I will achieve a restful night's sleep tonight.

So I went to Liverpool yesterday to meet Grace and David (which was awesome despite the tapas and later events), and some scouse bugger nicked my bag I lost my shoulder bag after leaving it on a bench in a square during an ME moment. Everything in it is replaceable, naturally some things at a cost, so in the end the things that bother me most are the loss of my knitting and Arabic studies and the creepy feeling that someone's been through my bag. I'm still optimistic that a concerned citizen picked it up and handed it in, despite the desk policeman's lack of evident interest, but I've cancelled my bank cards anyway, of course.

NatWest telephone person: Was your PIN number written down anywhere with the card?
Anne: Erm, no. Do people do that?
NatWest: Oh, yes. We have to ask.

Wow.

Today there is Condition Management and a hospitalisation trip to PC World for my laptop whose screen died. I'm about to ring Basoz to say I can't visit her as we had arranged, as I have a bad cold and yesterday's stress tired me out somewhat and caused an interrupted night so I'm pretty zombie-esque this morning, despite the glorious chilly sunshine. I do love these beautiful English winter days.

I JUST HAD AN ACTUALLY GOOD DRIVING LESSON YAY.

In other news, Paul and I went to Manchester for the weekend for Tessa's birthday, which was fun and full of Pandemic (the board game, not anything more sinister), and this week I will see a CAB person to talk about my ESA appeal, attend my second Healthy Futures meeting (in association with the Condition Management Programme) - this week about improving self-esteem to follow on from last week's discussion of what self-esteem is - and go from there to Peterborough to see Paul, Baby and Baby's parents and go to a convivial gathering of amiable people. Life is looking up.

Oh, and my spam filter today picked up this glorious example: ( Not for anyone more squeamish than me. )

*shudders*

Herein find a couple of attachments a friend from my dad's church sent in response to a Windows/Linux comparison I got onto whilst attempting to write a simple reply in thanks for some files he'd sent. I really really needed the cheering up today, so in case you stumble across this, Martin: Thank You.

( The old ones are the best. )

I've never had to deal with someone with that little knowledge of technology - especially someone computer-savvy enough to be able to turn one on and use a program like WordPerfect - but I am assured they are everywhere. I do not understand this. I'm no computer genius myself but 'There's a power cut: everything electrical has probably gone off but will be usable once more when the power comes back on' seems fairly obvious to me. Perhaps I'm a genius after all. People. Man.

My biggest fear used to be moths and daddy-long-legses, with spiders a close second. I am no longer afraid of moths or daddy-long-legses, and my fear of spiders has diminished over the years, though my biggest worry about moving into a flat of my own is still having to deal with spiders on my own. I developed a distrust of heights as I got a bit older, but not to any great extent. For a while after I was involved in a potentially lethal car crash, driving and being driven in cars rose to the top of the fears list, but that was temporary. When I got ill I was afraid I would never recover and would be useless for the rest of my life; I still worry about that but it doesn't take over my life as it used to.

There's been a trend from your average phobia towards fear of the future and my control over it, and now my biggest fear is myself and what I'm capable of. I tend to avoid getting into situations in which babies/children and vulnerable people are reliant on me, as I consciously restrain myself from doing things To Find Out What Would Happen, even in cases when I know very well what would happen. I have so restrained myself in every single situation to date, and I don't see why that would change, especially now I'm getting a bit stronger than I have been, but I feel very strongly that someone with such a problem should not be in sole charge of vulnerable people. When I'm on a train if I'm near an emergency stop handle I have a near-overriding urge to pull it, and heights pull at me - I went to Warwick Castle early in the summer and I had to get down off the battlements because I was in serious danger of stepping off.

More than that, though, I fear that God is disappointed in me, and that my life's course is taking me further from him and his plan. And, in the end, that that course may lead me to go to Hell when I die. But we can't know what God wants for us. I read my Bible and I pray, aloud when I can bring myself to it, and I try to love everyone and to show that in my life and the things I say and do. I need to work on the way small things make me angry as well, especially the way denominations of the Church as a whole ignore the others and patronise other religions they don't understand. We all do it but I think we should make an effort not to.

So there you have it: my biggest fear in this world is of my own self, and at the moment I'm treating the symptoms, for example by avoiding situations in which the possibility of my doing unwise things might arise. My biggest fear of all is that God is disappointed in me, and really the only things I can do about that are things I'm already doing, until a church feels like home.

My phone bill arrived today. I had forgotten that I would be charged to receive calls in America.

[expletive]

Oh, and I went to the CAB and my appeal should be starting today. Which is fortunate, really, considering the phone bill.

[expletive]

6 You intend to turn right into a side road. Just before turning you should check for motorcyclists who might be

Mark 1 Answer(s)

A: emerging from the side road
B: following you closely
C: overtaking on your left
D: overtaking on your right

Since there is the pre-agreed fact (which I infer from the 'Just before turning' part, which suggests that previous checks and signals have already been made) of a large metal box moving at speed and presumably indicating into a new road, all the above options can be summarised as follows.

'...motorcyclists who might be A, B, C and D: imbecilic and kamikaze', which in a world of carefulness induced by experience of stupid road users could also be interpreted as 'E: all of the above'. I might make an exception for C. I believe I am in fact going to choose C.

Telephones were not my friend today. I didn't check the time before I rang Stoke College, and of course it is past their closing time now, so I didn't get through. I thought I'd try a parent, so I rang my home number and my mother's mobile, but got no answer. I rang Mary and she couldn't talk because her purse had just been stolen. I think Mary's problems are greater than mine.

Finally got through to the parents, and had a nice chat.

I had intended to spend today at Knitch, the yarn/needlecrafts store in Atlanta that people speak so well of, but after a fitful night I dozed off a little after 5:45am intending to sleep for an hour, and woke up shortly before 10. I am tired. You may have inferred from last night's entry that I went for a walk. My intentions were sound once more: I wanted a refreshing stroll to clear my mental cobwebs, and some fresh air to reinvigorate my body and get rid of the headache that wouldn't go away. I would like to caution anyone with similar wishes not to take their strolls in Georgia, as the air is not refreshing and will increase any headache that is taken out into it. I got back to Geoff's sticky and aching, and decided to take a dip in the outdoor pool. After some to-ing and fro-ing I got the right keys, changed into my swimming costume and made my way to the pool, which was indeed delightfully cool and refreshing. And full of large dead insects. I did one circuit, and half a length underwater to cool my head, and got out and dressed and went back to the house to take a shower. It's great to have a pool, but I think I prefer mine indoors if the price of having them outdoors is that they become a watery graveyard for crawling and flying beasts.

I made a risotto for tea, with strange soy sauce that changed the flavour. Geoff liked it. Geoff and/or I might go to the lake and/or Barnes & Noble tomorrow. We'll see. The possibility of going to Hooters for dinner has been mooted. I would like to see whether I'd fit in among the waiting staff. :) For now I intend to finish watching The Railway Children, escape the cats and go to bed. Zonk.

Note to self: When undertaken in Georgia, USA, 'refreshing' walks are not in fact refreshing and may indeed cause humidity headaches. A subsequent inability to find the key to the pool gate will only serve to increase the ensuing dissatisfaction.

Addendum: Watch out for big dead insects in the pool and buy flip flops.

The flight was generally uneventful, though I did indeed get to fly in my first aeroplane with a little screen all for me in the back of the seat in front. There were 9 of us needing wheelchair assistance onto and off the plane. I arrived safely and was wheeled around Atlanta airport by various airport staff, with varying levels of politeness and enthusiasm. The people who work there have cool names. It was good to return to a country where the air itself can be pleasantly warm, and it hasn't been suffocating. Perhaps Georgia at this time of year isn't so deathly humid after all. I managed to stay awake till a reasonable bedtime and slept through till 6ish the next morning, and I think I've adjusted my body clock fairly well. I was up late last night because I wasn't a very happy bunny but I don't have to do anything strenuous during the day so I can rest. I believe the plan for this evening is to eat at Medieval Times, which looks dire to me but it also looks like fun, like Warwick Castle. Entertained with jousting whilst eating a quarter of a chicken with fingers, mhm, mhm...

Yesterday Geoff and I met with some organising-type people at the aquarium in Atlanta, to go over the special event they're holding next weekend for Dragon*Con-goers. It sounds like it'll be good, with renamed cocktails including a Vulcan Mind Meld and a ghost-filled Titanic exhibit. They invited us to have a look round the aquarium since we were there, so I got a free daytrip. :) It's good, with various walk-throughs featuring animals from different areas of the world. Apparently it's the biggest aquarium in the world for water volume, or similar. I recommend it, if you're ever at a loose end in the area. It's right over the road from the National Museum of Patriotism too, for those of you with a keen sense of the ridiculous dangers of nationalism enduring need to remind people to love and die for their country. There was a motorcycle prominently displayed in a window. I couldn't tell you offhand what that has to do with patriotism but I'm sure a trip to the museum would educate me. I can't think of another country likely to have a museum of patriotism, except perhaps communist/fascist dictatorships through the ages. An interesting point on which to muse. It looked well-financially-supported, a testament to American patriotism in itself. Patriotism is good, an enthusiasm for improving and preserving the quality of life of one's countrymen. It just often seems to translate into a willingness to decrease and destroy the quality of life of those unfortunate enough to be deemed not to be one's countrymen. Voluntary repatriation, anyone?

I still haven't made it to a Cracker Barrel restaurant but there's time left for that. Mags, I miss you. You too, Paul. I'll see if I can't find something entertaining to bring you back from the Land of the Free. I may check the patriotism museum's gift shop...

One of the cats just tipped my cup of water all over the carpet and I must go and attend to it. At least that will distract me from eating all these Hershey's Kisses and Cheetos. American nutrition at its finest.

Hello all. This will almost certainly be my last entry from England for at least three weeks. I fly tomorrow morning at 10:50, for those of you who may want to pray for a safe journey or just be interested to know, and today is my Packing Day. I've got bamboo crochet hooks in the hope that the authorities will let me take crochet on the plane - the journey to Atlanta is a long time to be stuck in a plane and I am not as optimistic about the provision of screens for film-watching (or the quality of any films that are provided) as other people seem to be, so I'd like to have some crochet as well as books to while away the hours. I intend to travel fairly light, as I'll be staying with someone who owns a washing machine and towels and the like and seems willing to share these delights with me, so it'll just really be light clothes (I've experienced Pennsylvania at almost exactly this time of year and I doubt very much, from experience and hearsay, that Georgia will be any cooler - I was uncomfortably warm in GA on New Year's Day 2006), shoes and personal items. I'm erring towards not taking my wonderful yellow boots because (a) they're heavy (luggage weight allowance fail), (b) they're bulky (luggage space allowance fail) and (c) they're not hot-weather footwear. It's a shame but one must be practical. I'm taking dresses and everything, shock. But my packing plans are not as interesting as this weekend was enjoyable. :)

Paul arrived on Friday evening and was duly fed, and on Saturday I introduced him to the delights of Gladstone pottery museum, where he made a pot and a flower, both of which are hardening in our front window. He was also introduced to oatcakes, which he appears to like very much. Hurrah for local delicacies. Some time on Saturday morning had been spent at St Giles' (Catholic) church in Cheadle, where we met an Eastern European-sounding gentleman and an American and his friend from Manchester. Interesting people. The American and his friend took our picture, which seemed a little odd but was nice. Paul also seemed to like the architecture and decoration of the church. It's all good. Dad ran his garden railway when we got back from Gladstone and Paul was most enthusiastic. Sadly the newer engine, Wili, had had a new part fitted which wasn't working properly, but Edrig had an outing and ran happily. I took several pictures and some video footage, most notably of our silly cat Tilly failing to remove herself from the engine's path till the last moment. Those videos are on Tilly's facebook page. In the evening I lost horribly at Monopoly (I never win that game) on the Wii and we played Wii Trivial Pursuit before bed. Sunday morning was a quiet time of resting and talking and I took a welcome bath, and then we went to Consall Hall gardens for lunch and a wander. More sausage oatcakes for Paul. The gardens are always enjoyable and we went on to eat cake and dodge wasps at Froghall steam railway station and again to all appearances Paul had a good afternoon's outing. A friend of my dad's came with her partner to see the garden railway so Paul stayed a little longer than he had intended, watching the little steam trains and exchanging horror stories of foreign travel with my dad's friend, who is well-travelled. I was sad that Paul had to go, and so soon, but his visit was cheering in general, and I felt better about flying and everything after talking to him and having hugs. A good weekend.

( Other news in brief. )

I'm not keen on flying - I know it's a really safe way to travel, etc, I just don't like it any more - so fingers crossed for the crochet hooks and my Arabic studies (using the library book some philistine tore pages out of) to be allowed on the plane to occupy my thoughts. Hope Immigration don't find my Arabic suspicious, or they might confiscate my dangerous tiny-bamboo-stick weapons and send me home.

And to think I thought Facebook was just a time-wasting tool.

INFP (Introversion, iNtuition, Feeling, Perception)

You are idealistic, loyal to your values and to people who are important to you. You want an external life that is congruent with your values. You are curious, quick to see possibilities, and can be a catalyst for implementing ideas. You seek to understand people and to help them fulfill their potential. You are adaptable, flexible, and accepting unless a value is threatened. Famous people with your same INFP personality include: Mary the Blessed Virgin, Hellen Keller, William Shakespeare, John F. Kennedy Jr., Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Julia Roberts.

( Paul )

In other news, Mum and I went to Consall Hall Gardens this afternoon and I watched Dreamgirls this evening, and am listening to the soundtrack now. I like it. That Jennifer Hudson really has got something special. Also, a hot air balloon came down in the estate across the valley, not in a nice clear field or anything. Didn't seem to get a tear or anything, though they let the balloon down. I saw something move and was like 'There's ... a balloon ... in Ness Grove...'. Unusual. Bedtime now; goodnight mes amis.

Right. Well. I had nothing planned for last weekend so I decided on a whim to wander down to Peterborough to stay with Paul (for those of you in farflung lands he was one of the first people I met at uni and I hadn't seen him since graduation on my birthday in 2007) for a couple of days. I got back yesterday, the proud owner of a boyfriend, three books and some pretty fighting sticks. I believe I must recap.

( Some LONG recapping. )

There, that is - if you can believe it - an abridged account of my weekend-that-became-a-week. I got back on Friday in time to meet Mum for lunch and get home to await the piano tuner, and I rushed to watch Slumdog Millionaire because it was HIDEOUSLY overdue at Blockbuster (it's an OK film, not worth the glowing reviews it got) and Mum took me to Stoke to return it just before they closed. The nice young man behind the counter waived the £7.50 late fee when I told him why I hadn't got back to the city till then (awesome!), and I gave him a copy of my CV in case any casual positions come up at the shop. I spent the better part of today watching the other titles I'd borrowed (The Magdalene Sisters about fallen women being sent to do hard labour as penance at a nun-run laundry - grim but good; The Spiderwick Chronicles - a good children's film; Prince Caspian - a tale of teenage angst, bitching and melodrama with little besides character names in common with the book*) and taking a very welcome shower, then Mum took me to Stoke once more to return DVDs. I rented a few more while I was there so the girl waived the late fees on the three abovenamed ones. Must remember this. It's a bit like in Georgette Heyer novels when the characters order more dresses from people they already owe money to. I watched Forces of Nature (Sandra Bullock and Ben Affleck) whilst eating butter flavour microwave popcorn. Yay butter popcorn. I played Auntie Biddy's violin for a little while and then a piano accompaniment I like, but I realised that my concentration and coherence levels were low so I stopped and went to bed. Long week, don't you know. I'm resting till Monday, when I have two job centre-related interviews one after the other. I may also rest on Tuesday because on Wednesday I have my medical assessment relating to my benefits and on Thursday a driving lesson, two weeks after the last one. Yay. Death. But no death, because I have a Paul and that is a very good reason to stay alive and be merry. Everyone should have one, they cause happiness. But I'm not the soppy type so I'll leave it there, not least because I'm sure you'll hear about his myriad good qualities anon in this journal. Goodnight my little pixies.

* It doesn't have to be slavishly faithful to the book - I liked the first Narnia film and that wasn't entirely faithful - but the characters should behave in a similar way and the general atmosphere should be retained, for it to get my vote. The bit where Peter went insane and ordered half the army to go to their deaths for no reason other than childishness really put me off.

So the driving lesson went really quite badly. Pam talked about how much I've come on since my first lesson (which I believe was a whole month ago, so 'coming on' isn't something to congratulate the pupil on - it should just be expected after four weeks) but I forgot pretty much everything. I got in the car and forgot how to turn it on (I got the bit with the key down right, it was all the rest of the things one has to do before the car is ready to be driven anywhere) and that rather set the tone of the whole lesson. We spent a large part of it on the Ness Grove estate practising turning at junctions and negotiating parked cars, then when we'd left the estate and done a bit of normal driving we came across another junction and I cocked that up too. Practice does not apparently make perfect.

In my defence yesterday was a bad ME day. I didn't need to be reminded that the bad days I get now are infinitely better than the bad days I had even a year ago (they're usually better than most of the good days I had then), because I am aware of it, but bad days are still bad days, when compared to good days. It's all relative. I didn't cry once yesterday though, despite a couple of near misses (one in the car with the instructor when I got particularly cross with myself), so things are looking up. I've done my half-hour with Maya, My Fitness Coach, and had a nice warm shower, and now I must eat something. I'm wanting to go to Sandra Bullock's new film this afternoon. I might wait and see if the rain goes away but I'm not afraid of it if it doesn't. There is a very unsettling Mad Woman-type laugh coming from the caravan park so perhaps I'd be better off getting to the other side of Hanley anyway, and sitting in a dark room for a couple of hours till the mad person has gone away.

Oh, did I tell you Mary and I went shopping the other day and I bought a pair of jeans for £10? I haven't done such a thing since I was a child. They're alright, naturally not the best materials at that price but they'll serve, and I need the savings. The wonderfully efficient DWP has sent me a letter requiring me to make an appointment for a medical assessment within the next two days. I've rung the appointments number several times now and every time I've had the woman giving her spiel and then when she 'redirects' me I've just had a busy tone. Not even any on-hold clinky music. I begin to suspect that they only have one phone dedicated to this line and that the operator has died of overwork and no one's noticed. Wish me luck. My favourite part is that callers to this 0800 number have to sit through the spiel before they find out whether the line is clear or busy, and many benefit claimants will only have a mobile phone and will therefore be paying to ring a busy line. Genius.

Lunch!*

* Otherwise known as Breakfast... Note to self: Eat Breakfast Before Doing Vigorous Exercise.

I am about to leave for my fourth driving lesson, to which I am looking forward only a little, if at all. Mary's gone back to Aber and her young man, her supervisor wants her to write a chapter for a book the supervisor is co-editing, I have exercised for half an hour three times in the last week and am still not dead, it's my mother's day off and I am encouraged by the quantity of available accommodation in Stoke for around £350. If I'm still alive enough after my driving lesson I'll exercise today too, and if I'm still alive after that I may go to the cinema to see Sandra Bullock's latest oeuvre. There we have my week in a nutshell.

( Hereunder lies the titular user guide. )

And finally, and perhaps the most important:

I would like a hug please.

I've been in Wales since Friday, when I spent several hours with Basoz before heading for the station. That was good, we did some revision and learned some new words, and had a good chat. I think she will be less stressed when her younger son goes to nursery in the autumn. Maybe we'll be able to go out for tea or similar, who knows. I'm on the Eee by the way, and I believe it needs a keyboard overhaul, so I apologise for typing errors. Basoz showed me how to make dolma, which I will be doing shortly. I also talked in Arabic about my family and education, and Tilly the cat, who likes to catch mice. You wouldn't think 'likes to catch mice' would be a useful phrase but if one is introducing oneself it could be a talking point (not that I'd be likely to understand the rest of the conversation but smiling with an expression of growing desperation seems to work in the place of understanding).

Yeah, so I went straight from Basoz's house in a taxi to the station to travel to Aber, because I am Teh Masochist. The journey was largely uneventful, I had enough space to myself the whole way and there was a Mary waiting at the station. Her young man is pleasant, and very tall, and a VERY good cook. I played my fiddle really quite badly on Saturday and Mr Williams told me I should practise more and I had a bit of a weep but that was mostly because of the Tired. Yesterday Joe the Young Man made a beautiful lamb Sunday dinner, with tasty fruit pudding by Tom, then I changed my shirt and went to Llanfyllin festival with Mr Williams. We stopped by a reservoir for a picnic and braved the few spots of rain. It was really nice and the little birds came right up to us, though Mr Williams advised not encouraging them. It'd probably turn them into miniature seagulls, the beasties. The concert was in a prettyish little church in Llanfyllin, the Allegri quartet with harpist and narrator (for the last piece, which inspired some ... uncomplimentary reactions in my breast). The Mendelssohn (the main attraction for me) was wonderful of course and inspired me with respect for the players - I've played it, though 'played' may be slightly too strong a word. The rest of the programme was French chamber music. A friend Mr Williams had hoped to see there hadn't come because he didn't want to spend an evening with French chamber music, and I can see his point. I'll stick to the other nations for that kind of thing. The French aren't bad at songs but if that concert is a guide their ideas of good chamber music do not mesh with mine. It was all 20th century stuff though, I've experienced nice French chamber music from the baroque era so they are capable of it. Classical music of the 20th century has not impressed me in general, so I don't blame the French personally. The last work was something I will not be revisiting voluntarily, a weird and ill-fitting piece about a plague coming to a party, as one does. The narrator was an author of pretty good books but she didn't put much dramatic feeling into it. She may be a non-fiction author, which might account for it. On the way back we made a comfort stop and Mr Williams worried me so much with warnings about looking for men hiding in the ladies' toilets that when a moth fluttered when I started the dryer I squeaked and made him think murder and rapine was occurring. I have never found men hiding in any toilet I've ever visited, and since those (the toilets) are legion I think I'm safe. Maybe overconfidence will be my undoing though. You never can tell with [men who hide in ladies' toilets]. We got back on the stroke of midnight and I was in bed by quarter past. Some odd dreams but that's only to be expected.

Today I go to meet JTA with possible associated extras, and I believe there is a plan to Kite later. The parents are buying dinner for me and Mary and possibly her extras at 8:30 this evening, prior to her graduation tomorrow. All this excitement; how is it to be borne? With more sleep, je crois.

I may not be looking seriously before the winter brings my 25th birthday but I'm keeping an eye on what's available in the house/flat rental market. I have been a little surprised at the wealth of available property for £80 a week compared to what you can get for £55. Most of them seem to be 2-bedroom houses but extra space is good, n'est-ce pas? Till I fill it all with [stuff] anyway. Some (most) of the agents could use my services though - there's one dyslexic-seeming one that describes houses as having 'bouble bedrooms' as a matter of course; one informed me that a property 'comprimises' lounge, kitchen, bedroom, etc; and my favourite of the morning is this description of a property in Tunstall: 'there are many local primary and secondary schools within this property which are of a very good standard.' That's one large property. I can get a property in Stoke proper, in a good condition, with central heating and double glazing, for my budget, and that works for me.

I did just check my current benefit amount though, and it comes to a little over £7 a day. With this amount I must pay bills and unexpected expenses, feed myself, learn to drive and buy travel tickets as required. A FirstDay (a day's travel on buses in Staffordshire and South Cheshire) is £4.20 (unless I want to go past Cheadle, in which case I have to pay another £1). I do not believe this amount to be sufficient. It goes up to a whopping £9 (£64 a week) after the assessment period, assuming they believe I am a needy individual and take me on in the end. They should have had my forms since Monday so perhaps the little DWP squirrels are hard at work making my dreams of independent living come true. All things are possible...

I'll go to Aber on Friday (tomorrow), staying till next Thursday. I was going to go on Saturday but Mr Williams is unavailable for playing music from Sunday to Wednesday and I don't fancy travelling and playing my fiddle on the same day. There will be other delights during the week: Mr Williams procured an extra ticket to a quartet concert on Sunday, I'll sleep on Monday, it's Mary's graduation on Tuesday with associated barbeque-related socialising, we're painting pottery on Wednesday (still don't know what to paint) and I'm possibly playing my fiddle on Thursday before falling into a seat on the train and sleeping at least as far as Shrewsbury. I don't know when/if I'll see Ruth and JTA et al, what with all their metropolitan gadding. We'll see.

Man I'm tired.

Second driving lesson today, spent on country roads. I cocked up one important right turn but I did alright for the most part. We were spending time going over the mirrorS/blind spotS* checks at a nasty junction when the malodorous bin lorry behind us got bored and pulled past me, considerately blocking my view of the downhill traffic. I got out of that one in the end though, and got through Cellarhead lights without too much fuss, then an ambulance coming the other way decided to overtake on a bend in a double-white-line (no overtaking) area with no lights or sirens on, so I came round the bend to find an ambulance coming at me fast, in my lane. Bit scary. No one died though (I'm fairly sure the condition of whoever was in the back wasn't critical or the lights and sirens would have been on) and we got back with just a bit of a mix-up at the sharp bend on Highfield Avenue and someone nearly running into the back of me when I put the brake on a bit too hard (for the record, I was stationary, about to turn into my road, not practising an emergency stop or anything), but Pam says that would have been their fault for not keeping a proper distance, especially from a learner driver. She also says the ambulance incident was the ambulance driver's fault so I feel a bit less bad. I think I am not a natural driver, but it's coming slowly. I do think I am helped by not being too fussed about the whole undertaking; if I were really keen to learn I'd probably alternate between being panic-stricken and drowning in self-blame. As it is I keep a happy state of mind that goes something like 'if this doesn't work out I've lost nothing but the cost of the lessons' and it is a good state to be in.

* She's very keen on not calling it a mirror check in case I go insane and forget about two of the available mirrors and/or my blind spots.

Soon I shall terrorise the law-abiding drivers of North Staffordshire and the world! The DVLA have most unwisely sent me a little mint-coloured card with my passport photo and address on it, a card which entitles me to practise driving in the company of a (preferably reliable and fully insured) driver of 21 years or above who has at least three years' driving experience. If that sounds like you, I will be on your case to take me out in your car. You are free to refuse at will but if you do you'll have to deal with a hysterically weeping female. Your choice. I've rung a nice lady instructor called Pam who lives in Blythe Bridge, and she seems like an unflappable sort of person (there was a misunderstanding regarding the ME and the DVLA, which necessitated me ringing her back to explain, but she was fine about it). I think unflappability is a very good trait in a driving instructor. There is also a chance that she did my sister a good turn many years ago, which would naturally endear her to me.

In other news, I spent most of today at Basoz's and managed an entire, comprehensible - if rather stilted - conversation in Arabic about underwear (ثياب داخلية), face cream, shopping and why I don't care for beans. This may seem like a small thing, but talking to a native speaker of a language I'm learning is incredibly daunting. I have pride. I had intended to go shopping for said underwear today while I was in Hanley but I stayed at Basoz's till closing time so I'll have to go back tomorrow or Friday because...

...The NSSO's summer concert is on Saturday and the ladies are encouraged to wear summer dresses. We're playing Dvorak's Czech Suite so I thought I'd wear my new black dress with the colourful embroidery as it looks suitably kitsch-gypsy-ish. Trouble is the fabric is not very dense and will show my underwear if it's not flesh-coloured. I own no flesh-coloured knickers (I own two semi-suitable bras but one is pink and patterned and the other is beige and embroidered and I want something plainer) and I would rather skip the concert altogether than attend it wearing no underwear, so as I say I will have to go to Hanley before Saturday and acquire some granny underwear in flesh-like tones. But yes, Jubilee Hall (Stoke town hall, opposite Stoke minster church), 7:30pm, Saturday 27th June 2009. Haydn's Clock, a Mozart horn concerto, Dvorak, Grieg's Holberg Suite (yum) and an overture by Rossini. Go on, give yourself a holiday.