Chronicles of a Trailing Spouse...

I got an email the other day notifying me of a date for my forthcoming driving test.  And despite the fact that I’ve survived three years driving under some of the most hazardous conditions known to man (UAE roads ) and lived to tell the tale, I must admit I’m not feeling too confident. You see, dear reader, let me say it out loud -- I've failed my driving test three times   -- and have a sneaking suspicion I’ll never pass.  Now when I say fail, please understand that none of the failures were actually my fault, but rather the result of petty jealousies, gross injustices and at times pure bad luck (or lack of planning as DH helpfully points out). The first time I failed I knew I was doomed to failure the second I laid eyes on the tester: a disappointed looking, middle-aged, balding man wearing brown nylon slacks and an anorak; the type who won’t be swayed by a coy smile or a thrust-out bosom (I tried) – someone who’s very demeanor spoke not of deep personal...