Briton in the Sun

It's been 2 months now, and I think it's finally time to tell the story of my traumatic journey to Gibraltar. It wasn't what I had planned, and if I could go back, I'd do it differently. But you can't go back, only forward. So on with the story! The Rock of Gibraltar - as tough as my journey! I was awoken by the porter knocking on the door, announcing what I thought sounded like Peterborough. As this wasn't my stop, I was about to go back to sleep. Instead I looked at my phone and realised it was 6.30am, close to my stop at Watford Junction due at 6.40am. Either the train was running late, or I had misheard. I quickly got dressed and packed just in case. And as I opened the curtain I saw a sign for Watford Junction come into view. Wake Up to Watford. The air was cold as I got off the train, and I pulled my case onto the platform. A lift journey down to the lower level, and a walk along a corridor, and I was in what amounted to the main concourse. Any thoughts of...

 My final day in Edinburgh felt a bit surreal. I sat down at my desk and logged into my work computer as usual, knowing that it would be the last day I did that, and that tomorrow I would be on my way to a new chapter in my life. I still had a lot of packing to do. I hate packing as it's such a drawn out process. There's always the things you need to leave until the last minute. Things like toiletries, or my computer, which I needed to use to check my travel bookings. My last day at home with my Mum I would be travelling on the sleeper train from Edinburgh to Watford Junction (near London), where I would then get a cab to Chesham. There I would pick up my car and drive to Plymouth, where I would catch the ferry to Santander in Northern Spain. I would then drive from there to Gibraltar, breaking my journey overnight in Cáceres, a town halfway along my route. Getting the ferry to Northern Spain was my cunning plan to cut out having to drive through France, and particularly Paris....

With my driving test going right down to the wire, I didn't have long to organise a car to drive in Gibraltar. I had decided not to take my Fiesta to Gib, due to their cars being left hand drive. As a new driver, I felt being on the wrong side of the car would put me at a disadvantage. This will be demonstrated later in the story! The other option was hiring a car, but most hire companies expected you to have your licence for 1-2 years before letting you drive one of their vehicles. Unlike the UK, Gibraltar drives on the right. The original plan was to buy a car in Gibraltar. I'd contact dealers online to buy a vehicle, and pick it up when I got there. Unfortunately Gib has few car dealers, and the ones that they have all sell big superpowered cars. I've seen people driving Land Rovers and Mercedes around Gib, which seems ridiculous, as their roads are extremely narrow, and most Gibraltarian cars are therefore quite dented. Dents are a common sight in Gibraltar I eventually...

Despite my progress in the Fiesta, and my Mum being a great teacher, we continued to look for professional driving instructors. We both felt I needed someone not just to teach me to drive, but to teach me how to pass the test. However our efforts were to no avail. As July approached, we had upped the lessons to two per day, and I was starting to feel confident on Edinburgh's roads. The only problem was the test was in Livingston.  Livingston Driving Routes We agreed to go there at the weekend so I could practice driving on the roads there. I tried to look online for previous test routes in Livingston, but could find nothing. In the end we just drove around, not having a clue where we were going, as neither of us knows Livingston. What DVSA stands for It seemed this didn't matter as I got a text from the DVSA saying that my test had been moved from the leisurely 11.11am on Saturday, to the far less convenient  9.07am on Monday, due to availability (or lack of availability!) of ...

The months prior to departure had been pretty hectic. I had taken it into my head to learn to drive before I moved to Gibraltar. The theory was that it would let me explore southern Spain. The reality would be somewhat different - but I'm getting ahead of myself. Time was running out! My timescale for learning to drive would be extremely tight, and would test all my project management skills to make it happen! On 7 April, two days after my 40th birthday I began my driving lessons. I was unable to get a professional driving instructor, due to oversubscription after Covid, so most of my lessons were provided by my Mum in her car. My Mum (Carol) was a very patient and natural teacher, and took me out most days in her 2010 Kia Picanto. I liked to say I was a student of Carol's Driving School. We started in the car parks of the Gyle Shopping Centre, and Booker Cash and Carry, and graduated to the Sighthill Industrial Estate (a favourite of learner drivers) and East Craigs housing es...