On the Wrong Side

So, due to Mary Gee closing over the summer, I've recently had to move all my stuff over the massive distance...

of 1 mile.

The story of how I finally got to have summer accommodation is relatively long and basically consists of me worrying far too much about things that end up being fine anyway, so I'll skip that.

My main problem wasn't distance. It was time.

I had to check out of Mary Gee at 10am and wouldn't, according to the booking confirmation, be able to check in at Nixon Court until 2pm.

If I'd had a bit of overlap I could've, I dunno, have a taxi move me, or take a bus. Or walk, though, as you'll realise if you know me well enough, I brought way too many books (no such thing as too many books) over last year so walking would've killed me. But still.

So, I had two options:
1) Find someone with a car.
2) Book a car.

But cars need to be booked at least some while in advance, and I'd already lost the cheapest option (which was 48 hours in advance), and yet I hadn't found someone who could help me.

So I booked a car.

I think I gave my Dad something of a heart attack when I told him I'd be driving here. You see, my father's been driving for, oh, 43 years (45 if you count that he also had a moped between the ages of 16 and 18). He obtained every driving licence possible when doing his "service duty" (conscription) - this includes bus and lorry with trailers - except for motorcycle and tractor. But then he learned to ride a motorcycle when he was having his mid-life crisis and he drove tractors back when I was a child and we were minding my parents' friends' sheep, so basically he's qualified to drive everything. And he's driven the weirdest stuff in the weirdest places.

But never an English car on English roads.

So, basically, he is just too set in his driving-on-the-right-side ways to have confidence that he could drive safely on the left. And he's got all this experience, too.

I, on the other hand, did not obtain my driving licence until I was 19 and I've hardly driven since. It's not that I *can't* drive - when I get into a car, my hands and feet automatically do what they have to do. It's just that I haven't done it very often.

I wasn't scared, I was slightly nervous but excited.

Perhaps that was also one of the reasons I didn't look too hard for someone to help me out - I sort of really wanted to drive, and then drive on the other side!

So I ended up picking up this lovely burnt orange Opel Corsa (yes, I am aware that technically they're called 'Vauxhall' here, but I've been saying Opel Corsa all my life, it loses its proper rhythm when I say Vauxhall), and got in.

Couldn't get it started.

Well, that's brilliant. I felt like a right idiot.

They started it for me, and I drove off.

And you know what, it wasn't difficult or weird at all.

The pedals were still in their proper spots, as were the wipers and the blinkers. The gear box was on my other side, but the gears were in the proper order too.

So all I really had to do was remember that the mass of the car was on my left rather than on my right and that I needed to change gear towards me instead of away, and with my left hand rather than my right.

And stick to the left!

Thankfully, it was a clear, sunny and calm Saturday morning, so I had no trouble whatsoever getting out of Leicester city centre. I anticipated trouble going up the hill, because I hadn't done that for such a long time and what if I had to stop going up the hill? But when I had to, my feet did all my work for me. Then the roundabout, but I just went with the flow of traffic and ended up where I had to be - though I was far more conscientious in my use of the blinkers than the rest was (maybe it's not obligatory here to use your blinkers when leaving the roundabout? Dunno...). I arrived at Mary Gee 20 minutes after picking up the car, and that was a bit sad - I'd just gotten used to it, and moreover, I enjoyed it much more than driving on the right side!

I got to drive again on Sunday, of course, to move, but 1.5 miles wasn't enough, so later that night I went out to drive a bit more, before handing the car in on Monday.

It actually made me sad to hand in the car. I'd loved driving around here.

The other motorists were absolutely courteous, patiently waiting when I manage to stall it (only once, though, with good reason - regardless of the situation Dutch drivers would've beeped though), keeping to the speed limit, giving just about everyone right of way (Dutch drivers just take whatever opportunity they can get)...

And I *LOVE* the lights - it's so brilliant to know it'll be green in a bit when it's red/yellow. Like, it's green, then yellow, then red, then red/yellow and then green again - wonderful! Plus, there are lights also a bit further on, so you don't have to twist around the wheel to be able to actually see the lights when you're first in the queue.

So, if I do get to stay in the UK (still fingers crossed!) for a relatively long time, that's one more thing that won't be troubling me, driving here.

I suppose my Dad will disagree - I had to promise to call him every time I came back from driving a bit. Tsk. He's just too used to driving on the wrong side ;).