The open road (or saying no...)

I had decided that Daughter 3 should have between seven and ten lessons with a professional on the open road before I took her out or - be still my pounding heart - let her drive us into work/college. Twenty-four hours after her first lesson she pipes up, 'So, will you take me for a practice drive round the industrial estate?' and the words, 'Yeah, sure,' were out of my mouth before my fear could take control.

I don't know my way round this industrial estate so we explored lots of dead ends and enormous, empty car-parks until an unexpected roundabout materialised in front of us. I suppose it is my job to spot the road signs but I am too busy checking distance from the kerb and whether there is any aggressive vehicle following. She coped absolutely fine, so much encouraged, I suggested she drive some of the way home, you know, on roads with other cars on them.

The only glitch was a wrong gear change which resulted in an extreme hill-start which we managed between us, me taking charge of the hand-brake and Daughter taking the clutch and accelerator. Otherwise I clung convulsively to my seat, gasping quietly for air, in relative safety.

Is she going to make me do this every week?

More than a little down

Daughter 2 went home yesterday after a three-day stay. The house was full of chatter and laughter while she was here. Last night neither of the girls was home and I had another of those horrible glimpses of life when the last of them leaves. A huge old house full of memories and me cooking dinner for one. Trying to muster enthusiasm for mediocre soaps which we all used to watch together, mixing critique with laughter and plot predictions. Dust gathering on the piles of possessions that they don't want to take with them but won't throw away either. The empty rooms that I can't afford to heat, the shed full of bicycles that no-one rides.

The long lonely hours.

Teaching the teen to drive.

Probably the most terrifying thing I've ever agreed to.

Not that Daughter 3 is incompetent, don't misunderstand, I don't doubt I was just as awful when I first started. Do driving instructors die young? Probably not, they have dual control cars. When the driving instructor says, Stop, you can bet Daughter 3 stops. When I say Stop! she wants a discussion and all the while the brick wall, or crater in the road or lorry the size of a house looms closer.

I suppose I should be flattered that she wants me to teach her; her sisters didn't. Anyway, I think a driving instructor can take over now; sitting next to a learner in the carpark or on deserted streets is one thing, but major roads, traffic lights or roundabouts - my blood-pressure won't take it.