Guess who just got a phone call from their very, very, very annoyed little sister? Yup, that would be me.
She had her driving test booked for early next week, and, knowing a little about the current workplace dispute in the civil service, she had been phoning them at weekly intervals to be sure it was still taking place. And it was, and all was sweetness and light.
Except that it wasn’t, really. She got a phone call at lunch, and apparently it’s been cancelled. And the next date they could give her was in October. She was not, to put it mildly, a happy bunny, and took it out on the poor person on the phone (who was at work, and wasn’t therefore to blame in anyway).
So she rings me, very annoyed, to let off a bit of steam. I wander about the web a bit, and find this list of open test centres. So I tell her to call on, sharpish, and chance her arm. So she has a test in deepest darkest Ballymena sham on Tuesday. Now to find an instructor who can take her round the test route there. Within the next 4 working days. No pressure.
And I now have a nosebleed. Bloody marvelous, that.