I spent last weekend lurching from chair to sofa to kitchen to deckchair and reading in between which was wonderful and not something I get the chance to do very often. Apart from acquiring sore, square eyes, it felt like I had achieved quite a bit, although of that I’ve absolutely no proof whatsoever. I got through a book and a half, so have lowered my reading pile a smidge and caught up with blogs I follow, most of which caused me to deviate somewhere or other. (I now know a little about Galileo’s Paradox – impressed? I know – I amaze myself sometimes).
However, one funny account of early driving experiences, on Rod’s blog, jogged a distant memory which in turn, reminded me of a recent four hour car journey my sister and I took where we talked nonstop, all the way to beyond Liverpool.
The purpose of our overnight trip was to view Another Place, sculptor Antony Gormley’s iron men, spread out along the soft sand at Crosby, staring out to sea, as if waiting for a sign from some alien force. There are one hundred of them, all the same, although several years of salt water washing over them has given each his own patina, and in some cases, a clothing of crustaceans. It is an eerie place: windy, with a power station and cranes in the distance adding to the bleak atmosphere. Over the years, some of the men have become half buried in the sand while others stand upright, hands by their side, waiting, waiting…
But where was I? Oh yes, driving. I mentioned above that my sister and I talked nonstop during our drive up north. So what, nothing surprising about that, I hear you mutter. Two women incarcerated in a tin box for hours – what else would you expect. Well, I know, but actually, for us to talk in a car at all is a bit of a novelty, as we acknowledged more than once during our four hour marathon.
We have fond memories of being bundled into the back of the family car on a Sunday afternoon, aged six and three, and told to be very quiet while Dad taught Mum to drive. We’d sit there scarcely daring to breathe as Mum crunched around the Kent countryside with Dad tutting as he managed to find impossible gradients for unsuccessful hill starts. Now, whether the insistence of absolute quietness came at a crucial stage in our childhood development, I don’t know, but neither my sister nor I ever talked much in the family car ever again, apart from asking, before we’d even passed Guildford, if we were ‘nearly there yet’ on our annual holiday to the west country.
Mum eventually passed her test but not before bearing the good-natured brunt of many a joke about women drivers, culminating in Dad buying her the record of Bob Newhart’s The Driving Instructor. So for Mum and for Rod, who I think will appreciate this – here is Bob Newhart, taken from that original record.
Thank you for the Bob Newhart moment!
We grew up with him, Nancy, and he’s one of those American comedians who sit so well with British humour – a win/win situation, I think. Others are probably sitcoms like Cheers and Mash – both hits in our household!
Thanks Jenny: I got a good laugh from your trip and learned about the Iron Man. I love Bob Newhart. The driving instructor has to be one of his best stories.
Now we have another place to visit!
I’m hoping for a week like your last next week. My that’s an awkward sentence.
You’re welcome. It’s definitely one of his best, although introducing tobacco to civilisation runs a close second. Glad I’m helping to fill your England diary!!
How have I never seen this before? That was hilarious, Jenny! Great post!
Oh Jill, you’ve got a lot of hilarious catching up to do – there are other sketches equally as funny, probably all available on You Tube – well worth it when you have some time 🙂
Oh no! Another distraction from my writing…thanks…I think. 🙂
This is superb, Jenny! You and Rod could do a tag-team stand-up routine about driving lessons. Well done!
Now there’s a thought – a cyber double act – what fun! Thanks, Marylin 🙂
Thank you Jenny, never heard of the iron men at Crosby.
Well worth a short detour on the way to the Lakes, Roy.
Love Bob Newhart. Have you come across David Sedaris? He makes me laugh out loud.
Reminded me also of friend’s mother in the 60s who eventually passed her driving test in her 50s. She took us on lots of lovely outings.
I think it was you who recommended one of his books which I’ve subsequently enjoyed – yes he is laugh out loud funny – I wonder though, if he’ll still have a following forty years hence?
Loved your post, especially the part where you said, “But where was I?” This time of the year, with “summer brain” in full force (for us northerners, that is) it’s so easy to find oneself that way 🙂
Ummm…you brought me here. Yes–You. Clearly it started with “be very quiet” but a few mental leaps happened all by themselves… Yeah…out of season for sure.
This is lovely whatever the season – your mental leaps have good taste!
( I did wonder, when I started to watch this, whether an annoying child might leap through the curtains with a pair of cymbals. I’m glad they didn’t. 🙂 )
Just love the way you tell ’em, great post Jenny, and I love Bob Newhart! Also, I have never seen those strange iron men at Crosby, very spooky indeed! I don’t know if you ‘do’ awards or not, but I’ve sent one your way and it doesn’t require any work, so it’s totally up to you what you do with it! Anyway, here is the link, and just saying thanks… 🙂 http://sherrimatthewsblog.com/2013/08/07/inner-peace-award/
Aw, Sherri, that’s so lovely of you, thank you.
And thank you spamgate, without whom…
Great post, Jenny – I’ve always enjoyed Bob Newhart! 🙂
He’s just a classic, isn’t he – so nice that everyone else thinks so too 🙂
Enjoying your blog, Jenny.
Thank you Holly, it’s nice to have you here – thanks for being such a consistent reader 🙂
I love another place what a fantastic opportunity for an artist to create an experience. His installation generates something different in everyone.
Yes I think it probably does. The weather conditions and the tides also play a part in evoking different responses. Definitely somewhere to visit more than once!
Jenny. I taught my daughter how to drive my 95 Honda Prelude last summer. A stick shift…… Bob Newhart brought it all back!!! So funny!! Also your writing is so interesting! I love this.
Thanks for reading, Hollis – people like you make it all so worthwhile!