Blackberry Crisp and Driving Lessons and Marge's Replacement

My arms are a scritched and scratched and covered in nettle rash... all for the want of blackberry crumble. Being from a city in the States, I'm unfamiliar with the concept of being able to walk around and randomly eat fruit that grows on public foliage. It's really just not a done thing. So, in the excitement that is blackberry (bramble) season in the UK, I've thrown myself wholeheartedly into a tradition which most British people have got their fill of before their teenage years. Sinéad, loving partner that she is, has encouraged me in this pursuit and accompanies me around footpaths whilst I fling myself into bramble bushes and emerge with a grand total of three blackberries and stinging arms. Having returned home slightly scathed, there's now a blackberry crisp bubbling away in the oven which will taste all the more exciting because the berries were were there to be plucked by anyone... but it was me who got them.

When I'm not pursuing the joys of fresh roadside fruit (mmmm, taste the exhaust), I'm zipping around British roads in a snappy orange car with a big Learner pyramid on the top. For those Americans who wonder why I'm doing this despite the fact that I've been driving since the age of 15, it's because the UK, despite recognizing the driver's licenses from a gajillion countries but (I think for political reasons) not the US. So I have to start from scratch. I've passed my theory test and I have to pass my practical. In order to do this, I need to be affiliated with a school because I need a car to take the test in and I can't be insured on Sinéad's car because she's had her license for less than three years. It's all very complicated, very expensive, and a right pain in the butt. There are some interesting differences in how they teach you to take the test. For example, you can't sit at an intersection with your brake lights on because of the fear that you will dazzle other drivers. What?!?!?! Try sitting in rush hour traffic in DC and see how dazzled you get by the brake lights. Whatever.

All this brings me to Dunster, Sinéad's new car. A high end Peugeot 106. I say high end because we only paid £250 for Marge and we put £650 into Dunster. Classy chicks that we are. No power steering, though. I shudder to think.

Related Links

Exchanging for a UK Licence (yes, that's how they spell it here...)

Triple Berry Crisp