VANCOUVER - Notes on an L Plate

So, when I was weighing up leaving Britain for Canada-town many months ago, I drew up one of those lists where you divide the piece of paper into 'pros' and 'cons' and gradually weight the columns into the configuration you wanted them to end up in in the first place. For example, my pros list included such list-fillers as "seeing Oscar nominated movies before the Oscars take place" and "getting neck cramps when sizing up tall trees." The cons list was relatively short. However, amongst its more significant entries and, indeed, higher than pretty much anything else, was "re-taking my driving test."

I hate driving tests. I hated doing it the first time back in Britain; so much so that between my first (disastrous) attempt and the one where I finally passed, five months elapsed. And I proceeded to get anxiety attacks about the whole experience even after it was all over. Cut to six years later and I'm faced with having to do it all over again in Canada with a whole new set of driving laws and regulations to contend with. Knowing that failure would result in the confiscation of my British license (and, therefore, being unable to drive without supervision) I put it off until my grace period of three months had elapsed. Since then, and for the previous three weeks or so, I've been repeating that same cycle of anxiety attacks and almost constant inferiority complexes about the whole business.

Why I suffer so badly during this ordeal, I do not know. I am not an unconfident public speaker, I can walk through even the dodgiest areas of New York City without a care in the world, but put me in a car with someone pointing the end of their biro in the direction of travel and observing my shoulder checks in multiple mirrors and I am capable of the silliest of mistakes and the most complete of mental and physical breakdowns. Like many of my more unusual social disfunctions; I like to blame this one on genetics and the quirks of my parents. Because then they can blame it on their parents, and so on, and nobody has to shoulder the blame for anything.

Long story short is that, last Friday, I managed to pass the damn thing to become a proper Canadian drivery person. And I'm hoping that sometime over the next few months I can safely forget about the whole experience. Someone suggested to me I might want to train for a minifies license in the future. Having considered this for a couple of days; I am making the following Steve Redgrave-esque pronouncement: If I show any sign of taking a driving test ever again, everyone has my permission to shoot me. I never, ever, want to go through one ever again. If I'm emigrating again; it shall be to a country which accepts a British or Canadian driving license without the need for a further road test. End of discussion.

Of course, those familiar with Sir Redgrave's achievements will know how reliable *that* pronouncement turned out to be... So, cooking:


Some men get their kicks out of driving tests. Real men bake lasagnes.

When I've not been locking myself away from the world dealing with driving anxiety, I've been enhancing my cooking skills. Somewhat for my own delectation, somewhat to appease the ravaging hordes at youth group who demand either interesting food each week or start clamoring for culinary horrors like Kraft Dinner (the North American equivalent of heart disease in a box) I've been experimenting with making new and exciting dishes. My first lasagne was something of a victory for me; and the second was even better. Although I haven't yet bit the bullet and made my own white sauces.

The most exciting new discovery of the week, though, was bread baking. A process I've never much been interested in since, frankly, I think of it as slightly tedious. All the bother of making good cake, without any of the sugary goodness and much potential for monstrous un-bread-like hybrids to emerge. It turns out, though, that it was rather fun. And it came out perfectly. Which just goes to show; baking has nothing to do with talent. It's just about following the recipes... Doubly impressive, I feel, since I was babysitting at the time and this was a childcare pacifying activity rather than serious baking. I suddenly feel the urge to experiment with new types of bread construction. The insertion of sun dried tomatoes into the dough! The application of cheese at the crucial rising stage! But, then, I feel rather tired and need to sit down.


Random photo of the month: turtles amassing hordes of change under spotlights. Because that's the lengths a bored turtle may go to, folks.

A quick word on Oscar nominations as I probably won't blog until after the 'ceremony'. As usual the nominations reflect the needs of Hollywood's great and glitzy to feel positive about their craft rather than actually recognising the best films, performances, writing etc. of the year. Indeed, almost all the Best Film nominees this year are total garbage.

However, it's worth noting that this year almost none of the acting nominations come from Best Picture/Director nominees. That doesn't mean to say that they're in any way indicative of the best of the year's performances (Peter O'Toole, bless him, is only on the list to remind us that he survived another year) but at least it means the top honours are actually difficult to predict for once. That said; if I were looking to give up my life of Church service and retire on the back of a colossal accumulator betting win, here's where my hard earned dollars would be going:

Best Film
Will win: The Departed
Should win: None of them... Little Miss Sunshine is the best of them, but isn't nearly as scathing as it should be.

Best Director:
Will win: Martin Scorsese (The Departed)
Should win: Paul Greengrass (United 93)

Best Actor:
Will win: Forest Whitaker (The Last King of Scotland)
Should win: Forest Whitaker (If he doesn't, I'll retake my driving test)

Best Actress:
Will win: Helen Mirren (The Queen)
Should win: Helen Mirren (Ditto on the driving test thing)

Best Adapted Screenplay:
Will win: The Departed
Should win: Children of Men

Best Screenplay:
Will win: Babel
Should win: Pan's Labyrinth

Incidentally, just so we're clear, the best five films of last year were The Last King of Scotland, Children of Men, Pan's Labyrinth, Inside Man and United 93. Go watch them all and then come back and tell me how right I was.