The foot is fine. Thanks for asking. So fine, I’ve forgotten about it. And I forgot today when I played tennis. In the glorious sunshine (good thing) and the howling winds (bad thing). The arctic temperatures we can cope with (indifferent thing, but shrivelled testicles is a bad thing).

And feeling young and fit and fabulous (DON’T LOOK IN THE MIRROR!!! EVERRRR!!!), I opened the mail to find my driving license renewal application. From HIS Majesty’s government, no less. I’ve had my license for almost 53 years. Same one, other than when they did the photo thing. Why do I need another one? Because when you get to 70, the driving authorities in our fine nation start to think along the lines of: “is it in any way possible that the person who passed his driving test at 17 may have, in some small way, changed at all, by the time he reaches 70? Like, physically, mentally, healthwise? Is he now prone to blackouts, have both his legs been removed surgically, can he still count backwards from 10 without dribbling down his shirt?? Has he died?? Can’t go allowing dead people to drive. Vampires and undead have to answer special section: DVLA 14.6.293G, only available in the hours of darknesss.”

Yet rather than actually call you in, check your eyesight, maybe a brief physical, ensure that your mobile oxygen tank can fit into your car along with your nurse and carer, they just ask you. “Can you see OK?”, great, we’ll tick that then. “Do you suffer more than three epileptic episodes between home and Brent Cross?”, no, great. “Do you drive a car with hundreds of horse-powers even though your speed of reaction is now measured in glacial time?”, no problem. “Do you remember what a car is?”, well, mental health seems great too then. It’s what we call ‘self assessment’. You just ‘do-it-yourself’. Or guess. Or just lie. No difference.

The entire process takes approximately 4 minutes on the online portal.

The process of proving your identity to allow this to happen, takes 14 hours, 3 apps, 14 photo downloads, half a dozen ‘selfies’ and scanning the mole patterns of your left calf.

As you know, I am in the peak of physical health and vitality. In fact, I have been described by some (me, mainly, possibly Mel if she needs something really badly) as ‘perfect’. The only difference between me now and me at 17 is that I know more. And forget more. And ache more. And… forgotten. But I hate old people driving. They wear hats. In the car, FFS. And they adhere to speed limits. Which is quite frankly ludicrous, obstructive and a waste of time.

They should be calling people in at 60 for an eye test. Just a visual scan if nothing else. 20 seconds. To avoid having the roads filled with blind septuagenarians wearing their wife’s glasses to reverse. Check mental health. Speed of reflex. but they don’t. They’d rather develop really ridiculous and difficult tests just to prove you are who you say you are, then let you drive in any condition whatsoever, just because you say you’re ok.

And they wonder why driving standards are dropping.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx