I'm in a bad mood. I didn't get to sleep last night until six am. I think I was still worrying about my ice skating in the car last night, as well as worrying about driving Mum to the dentist at Whalley today.
What I hate most about this bloody disease is that I've gone from a self assured person, confident in my own abilities, someone who has travelled all over the world by himself from the age of sixteen, to someone who now starts shaking and getting in a flap, if I have to drive more than a mile from home.
In fact I drove well today, just as I did when I had to drive all over Wigan last October for my disabled driving test. It's just so frustrating that I passed my driving test when I was seventeen, and drove my parents cars every time that I came home or on holiday, but a month after buying my very first car last March, I was diagnosed with this bloody disease. At the back of my mind a clock is ticking away, telling me that my driving days are numbered. My car represented freedom, and it's peeing me off that it will be taken away before too long.
Any way I did get us safely to and from Whalley. On the way home I took my car to the garage near Mum's, and the guy kindly fixed the windscreen wipers today. Mez pipped her horn whilst we were waiting at the garage. I hope I didn't look to badly startled when I waved back, but I'd just been stood round the corner shaking very badly in a right tizz.
Moan over.
Either pass the big baby a tissue, or give the daft bugger a tambourine.
What I hate most about this bloody disease is that I've gone from a self assured person, confident in my own abilities, someone who has travelled all over the world by himself from the age of sixteen, to someone who now starts shaking and getting in a flap, if I have to drive more than a mile from home.
In fact I drove well today, just as I did when I had to drive all over Wigan last October for my disabled driving test. It's just so frustrating that I passed my driving test when I was seventeen, and drove my parents cars every time that I came home or on holiday, but a month after buying my very first car last March, I was diagnosed with this bloody disease. At the back of my mind a clock is ticking away, telling me that my driving days are numbered. My car represented freedom, and it's peeing me off that it will be taken away before too long.
Any way I did get us safely to and from Whalley. On the way home I took my car to the garage near Mum's, and the guy kindly fixed the windscreen wipers today. Mez pipped her horn whilst we were waiting at the garage. I hope I didn't look to badly startled when I waved back, but I'd just been stood round the corner shaking very badly in a right tizz.
Moan over.
Either pass the big baby a tissue, or give the daft bugger a tambourine.
