The Postman Cometh

Are you superstitious dear reader?  Touch wood, I don't believe in superstition.
Do you believe in fate?  I don't.

But I'm willing to make an exception if it makes me feel better.

The postman came just the other day.  Nothing unusual in that except that there were no bills or final demands or anything of the like.  Rather there was a letter from the Driving Standards Agency.  Now, I'm sure that if you know me or if you have read any of my previous blogs, particularly here, here, here, or here, you will be aware that my chosen path is to become a driving instructor.  Now to do so, one has to pass three tests.  Part one, you may recall, I have aced.  So, back at the end of last year, I sent off to apply for my part two, not dissimilar to the practical test you would need to take when you first learn to drive assuming you started driving after the driving test was introduced.  In the aforementioned post was my test appointment and do you know what?  Of course you don't, I haven't told you.  The date for my test is 12th February.  That may not be significant to my readers but, let me tell you the spooky coincidence here.  Not only is it Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin's birthday but let me take you back fourteen years to 12th February 1996.  What were you doing?  You probably don't remember (though I'm sure my average reader is of an age to have been doing something, possibly drawing their pension).  I remember.  I was taking my driving test.  Weird coincidence eh?  It's fate, it must be.  And yes, of course I believe in fate.  Don't listen to anything I said a couple of paragraphs back.

Talking of my post, today I received a whole bunch of letters from the council and I'll tell you some other news.  Despite my moaning and protestation about the whole benefits system and its inadequacies and just plain hassle involved I did reapply for housing benefit.  Apart from trying to scrape back some of the money I have previously, gleefully given to the government, I thought it might be interesting to find out if I could be better off working part time rather than full time scrounger.  The answer?  Probably not.  My annual reduction in Council Tax - try and contain yourself - £17.14.  I can see you all leaping to get out of the rat run for that sort of benefit.