1. Both remain alive;

2. Neither is in jail; and

3. They are still at Uni.

I have not heard that much from them but Twin No 2 assured me via a Facebook conversation that she liked the first day of formal study. Not much I agree but at least it is something.

At the time of writing, I wait expectantly for any form of communication from Twin No 1 about her first day.

Although I have been deliberately starved of specific information, I have used the age old mother’s method of asking one sister for “the dirt” on the other sister to find out a little of their adventures during “O” week.

Although neither one will admit it, I got the impression that both of them were overwhelmed by the full on pace of “O” week. I think that it came as a bit of a shock to be living with a mob of over-active students intent on making life hard for the Freshers.

Twin No 1 in particular was not impressed with having to wear a “stupid” Fresher’s bandana (emblazoned with the Fresher’s new nickname), particularly when the penalty for being caught without it on was being made to wear the bandana plus a bib.

I managed to “lift” a picture from Facebook of Twin No 2 & friends wearing their bandanas

Twin No2 is second from the left and apparently she is now know as “Ben”

I am sorry that I only have a little bit of intelligence to report but I will let you know all that I have been able to obtain.

Twin No1 let slip that “the boys” had got into Twin No 2’s room and stripped her bed. I hope that was all they stripped!!

The “under age” Freshers were set a challenge to get into a licenced night club using “borrowed” ID from older students. Unfortunately both of my daughters succeeded in this challenge.

I also learnt that after being kept up all night until 3-30 am, the Freshers were woken a short time later at 4-30 am and hauled out of bed to go on a “morning” run. All I can say about the senior students who did this is that they are much braver than me. I am not game to wake them even after 8 hours of sleep lest I be subjected to a day of extreme grumpiness.

Twin No 1 admitted that she was so tired that one time she forgot her towel when she went for a shower and had to put on her clothes over a wet body. (I had to chuckle to myself – At home she would have just had to call out – “Mum get me a towel” and like a dutiful slave I would have obeyed.)

I am sorry that I have not got anymore to report. However, I am sure that there were plenty more shenanigans but it is probably good that a mother will never know about them.

I have one parting thought, however. When they lived at home they thought that staying up all night was one of the coolest, not to mention most defiant, things they could do. I am sure now that they have been cured of this for life.

The big day was last Saturday (and I mean BIG day).We had fully packed both their little car and the Prado the night before and when I say fully packed I mean fully. Everyone managed to be awake by 5am and we actually made the planned departure time of 6 am (sort of).

Empty Bedrooms

The trip to Townsville was un-eventful apart from me nearly running over a “Stop and Go” man at one of the numerous road works. I was thinking about my girls leaving home and did not see him. He got a bit angry and waived his stop sign at me but I stopped in time and that is all that matters. Anyhow, he should have known to be on the lookout for teary eyed mothers driving their daughters’ stuff to Townsville so it was his fault. (Yes my daughters made sure that they were safely away from me in their own car so the rest of us only had their stuff for company.).

Oh, and did I mention that I was strictly forbidden from bringing the video camera.

When we got to JCU it was all a bit of a blur. What I can say though is the Uni is well practiced with getting the new students settled and, more to the point, dealing with parents. Without even realising it, they managed to lure and corral the parents in a lecture theatre. The “lecture” was sold to the parents as being an essential talk about finances. But it was in fact mainly about getting parents out of the way and making it clear that we were to stay out of the way.

It was actually well done. They had us singing songs and taking part in various “audience participation” activities. One part that made us all laugh was a couple of slides showing how the parents see the students as opposed to how the Uni sees them. (The slide for the parents was a 5 year old off to school for the first time and the Uni slide was of adults).

When we realised what was going on it was too late but I thought that I would make up for it by staying with them all next day – Sunday. Well the Uni people were a wake up to that as well. The residential college had arranged a day off campus for the new and returning students well away from parents.

After lugging printers, clothes, mini fridges etc. up stairs all day and running into the nearest shopping centre to get last minute things we had not thought of, I was completely exhausted and in no condition to put up a fight.

And to rub salt into my wounds, whilst Twin No 1  may have been a little bit apprehensive, Twin No 2 took to it all like a duck to water and seemed oblivious to the fact that her mother was close to a breakdown.

Here they are in Twin No 2’s room whooping it up with new friends (and my little buddy)

In Twin No 1’s room – And you can see by the looks on faces who was upset and who was not.

I did manage to convince them to go out for one last meal at Sizzler on Saturday night and then it was goodbye.

At Sizzler for the “last supper”

A final hug and then they drove away into the night (Sob Sob).

The girls are now gone and I am still grieving – But every cloud has a silver lining and there are some upsides:

• I can use the shower and bathroom any time I want;
• My food bills have plummeted;
• I no longer have to nag and nag for one of them to shift their car so I can back out of the drive;
• AND (This is the big one) with Twin No 2 gone, the whole big family economy packet of Streets Drum Stick Ice Creams did not disappear 15 minutes after getting  home from the supermarket. And there I was starting to believe Twin No 2 that neighbour kids must be sneaking in downstairs and getting into the freezer and eating them.

One final thing – It is now 48 hours since I last saw them and the only contact they have made with me so far is to (you guessed it) ask for money. No – “Are you feeling all right mum” or “we miss you mum” or anything like that. Just – “We need X amount of dollars for books”.

Explanations:

• · QTAC – QUEENSLAND TERTIARY ADMISSIONS CENTRE
• · JCU – James Cook University, Townsville Qld
• · UQ – University of Queensland, St Lucia, Brisbane Qld

This is just a brief post to let everyone know that both twins got their first preferences for their chosen University courses.

They have been accepted at JCU as follows:-

• · Twin No 1 – Bachelor of Medicine/Bachelor of Surgery
• · Twin No 2 – Bachelor of Physiotherapy

Also their OP scores have given them fall back options at both JCU and UQ for other health related courses like Optometry.

And this time not only did Twin No 2 manage not to lock herself out of the QTAC site, but she also found out well before her sister. Twin No 1 was able to get a job picking limes on a property at Kuranda (west of Cairns Qld) and could not log on until after work.

I think that Twin No 2 also got the better of the summer jobs. She is teaching children to swim at the local pool while poor Twin No 1 slaves away in the hot tropical sun picking fruit. I spoke to her on Skype last night and she is covered in scratches from the lime trees.

Yeah !!! Peter, Z (My Little Buddy) and me could not be more proud of them.

No -  I tell a small lie. I think that their brother (My Little Buddy) is more concerned about getting additional figures for his X Box game “Skylanders” than anything his sisters might be up to. LOL – Joke – He will miss them when they actually go.

While I am on the subject it seems that the Video game Skylanders is this year’s fad (much like BeyBlades were last year.) You have to keep getting (buying!!) little figurines to play it and the makers were very smart by allowing the same figurines to be used on the Wii, Xbox and PS3. As a result you can’t buy the figurines anywhere and as soon as any come into the shops they sell out in minutes.

But back to more important things – Well Done Twins!!!!!

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,200 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 20 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

At long last my twins have received their final year 12 results or “OP” scores as they are called in Queensland.

Before I go on I have to say that both girls did exceptionally well – better than expected. As a result they now have a wide range of University courses open to them. Their hard work has been rewarded and I am so proud of them.

French Champagne to toast my (adult) Twins for their excellent results.

Anyhow, I am not going to boast about their OP scores (Apparently I have done enough boasting or so I am told — But —I can’t help myself – –Twin No 1 shared the highest OP for the school along with the 2011 Dux of the school)

However I cannot pass up the opportunity to let everyone know the “drama” that the family had to go through concerning the “finding out” of the OP scores.

The girls are non-identical twins and, as they have grown, each one has developed a distinctly different personality. Twin No 1 is more outspoken and academically inclined. Twin No 2 is a little more reserved but more “hands on” and practical. Their OP scores reflect their academic differences but I have to say that Twin No 2′s OP score was not that far behind her “brainy” sister’s score.

The OP scores are released in mid-December and students can either wait for the results to be sent via “snail mail” or register with The Queensland Education Department’s web site so that they can log on to find out immediately.

Naturally the overwhelming majority of students choose the “on line” option and it hardly needs to be said that my Twins registered on the web site. Saturday 17^th December was the BIG DAY.

I don’t know if my family is jinxed or something but why can’t something like this just take place without some great drama. But no, there had to be a drama.

I had expected that Twin No 1 would be the one to get all excited but rather uncharacteristically she calmly went to bed on Friday night and arose at the normal time on Saturday morning. (I am too embarrassed to tell everyone what time my “little princess” arises in the mornings now that she has finished school). She then took her own sweet time about logging on with, I might also add, little regard for her anxious parents and sundry relatives and friends who were dying to find out what her score was.

It was plain sailing without a hitch- But that was Twin No 1.

Twin No 2, the sensible practical one, was another kettle of fish. She, along with some other year 12 girls from various schools, decided to stay up all night at a friend’s house so that they would be among the first in the State to log on and find out their results.

It was, I think, about 2.30 am when I got the first frantic phone call from Twin No 2. It wasn’t something “simple” like say the friend’s house getting burnt down. No, it was the disaster of the century. Twin No 2 had somehow managed to get herself locked out of her account. What it was that I was supposed to do about it I still don’t know. But being woken at some outrageous hour of the morning was just the start of it all.

I won’t go into a blow by blow account of Twin No 2′s “performance” but at this late stage of their child hood I now have to officially strip Twin No 1 of her title of “Drama Queen” and award it to Twin No 2.

Should I embarrass her? – Yes I will. There were tears, not speaking to anyone and refusing to come out of her bedroom. And things got worse when we went shopping and it seemed that everyone on the planet (apart from Twin No 2) had found out their OP.

Needless to say I have not been game to ask why the “locking out” might have occurred.  I dare not even entertain the thought that perhaps it might have been due to an over-excited and tired (from staying up all night) Twin No 2 inputting an incorrect password more than 3 times (or whatever the lockout limit is). It is easier to blame the Dept. of Education web site.

However all’s well that ends well. Twin No 2 phoned the Department first thing on Monday Morning to get it fixed and was so pleasantly surprised by her results that the traumatic events of the prior weekend seem to have been flushed from her consciousness.

As can be seen Twin No1 did not pass up the opportunity to add fuel to the fire.

But it was all smiles at the end.

Not only are they completely unscathed but it appears that while I was biting my nails and imagining all sorts of perils, they have been having a whale of a time.

For a start the Christian churches arranged plenty of safe entertainment that kept them occupied (and apparently “UP LATE” every night until all hours of the morning).

Then when that was all over they phoned to say they were not coming home just yet. The parents of one of their friends have a catamaran and they were invited for a few days cruising out on the Great Barrier Reef (which is not very far “out” in this part of the world).

Geez – what are the poor people doing?

By the looks of this photo Twin No 1 was not being forced to “swab the decks”

They also went diving on the reef – Well – I suppose that you have to do something if you are not being keel-hauled or flogged with a cat o’ nine tails by the captain.

Those dark patches are fish swimming up to the girls.

A large Maori Wrasse pokes his head up out of the water.

The penny has finally dropped. They are all grown up and I have to face the fact that they don’t need me anymore.

But hold on. I have just remembered. They are off to University next year and I can bet that mum and dad will continue to be very much needed when it comes time to pay the bills.

With the high school education of my twins now in its final stages, our whole family attended the School’s “Celebration Night”. I was looking forward to this night not only because I was expecting my twins to receive some awards, but also as it is one of the rare occasions that I can persuade my family to get dressed up for a family outing.

Twin No 2  & proud mum & again with Twin No 1   and with my 2 “Boys”

However my expectations were blown away by the number of prizes they ended up winning.

Yes, this blog post will be a mother boasting but I don’t care what some people might say, I am proud of my twins and I intend to boast. Also this will, no doubt, make the twins cringe even more after the fuss my husband and I made over them on the night with the videotaping and hugging etc. (I have to say that sometimes even I am confounded that our video camera, the main instrument used by parents to embarrass their children, has not, in some mysterious way ,“gone missing”.).

But I consider this a mother’s privilege and I am not going to hide their light under a bushel.

First up a fair number of the presentations were carried out by Twin No 2 in her capacity as School Vice-Captain and she has become very confident at public speaking ( a skill her mother did not possess at that age). There was also some cause for amusement in the audience when Twin No 2 found herself awarding prizes to herself and her twin sister.

Well, here we go:-

Highest Achiever in a Subject

Clear Thinking  -                Twin No 2

Physical Education -         Twin No 2

Biology -                              Twin No 1 and Twin No 2 (Shared)

Academic Excellence Awards

Twin No 1 and Twin No 2 (Shared)

Excellence in Senior Sciences Award

Twin No 1

Vocational Education Award

Twin No 2

Christian Integrity Awards

Twin No1 and Twin No 2

Long Tan Award and $500 Bursary

Twin No 1

Senior School Special Service Awards

Twin No1 and Twin No 2

They received trophies for the awards and we will have to build a new shelf to display them all. I will expect all visitors to my house to be suitably impressed when I force them to inspect each trophy as I bore them with my bragging about my “brilliant” twins.

Twin No 1  and Twin No 2 weighed down with their trophies and certificates

OK I have probably pushed this a bit too far. But parents with teenagers will understand that you have to make the most of opportunities like this to offset the all too frequent times when you regret having them in the first place. (Including times when you seriously consider what story you would pitch to the jury at your trial for the murder of said teenager/s.)

Besides, they have both gone away to Airlie Beach on “Schoolies” (the end of High School tradition of a week-long holiday with schoolmates before they head their separate ways). I will be walking on eggshells hoping that they survive this nonsense so you would have to be pretty mean to resent my taking advantage of an opportunity to brag.

I have been working full time and have not had time to write anything on my blog. However I am posting a couple of short stories written by my twins. I know that I am their mother but I think that they are OK.

I have to say though that I am a little concerned with the story by Twin No 2. I had better be careful not to become lame or break an arm or something. She might have me put down. I’ll make sure that she has well and truly left home before I become old and infirm.

TWIN No 1

The War That Never Ended.

It’s happening again. I can feel myself fading out of this world and into the next. Every time it happens, it gets harder to distinguish reality from imagination.

I open my eyes and I’m in the trenches. The mud is thick and with every step I seem to sink lower in the muck. The air reeks of musty socks, sweaty men and rotten corpses; a smell I’m now so accustomed to. I look up and the sun is only just creeping up over the horizon, it’s going to be a hot and exhausting day. The men in the trenches seem to be looking worse for wear, aging far more rapidly than they should be. Their hair is now ratty and stubble has grown into beards. When I was recruited I can remember gluing hairs to my bony chin, so it almost seemed believable that I was the age I was claiming to be. Now I’m still the same 17 year old boy, but far more grown-up and aware of the world around me. I push past a few older men and see Ralph, my best friend, who has been with me ever since our spontaneous decision to sign up to serve king and country and who is still with me here in this hell hole.

I notice he’s standing there ready to ‘jump the trench’ and run blindly into No Man’s Land, a suicide mission. Without warning, the sky is filled with an array of explosions, and deadly, whizzing bullets are flying over our heads. I never knew what a machine gun was until I came to war. The speed at which the hundreds of bullets fly at you is incredible, like an impenetrable wall of lead. The eruption of sound that occurs as a bullet leaves the gun is piercing giving every part of my body spine-tingling shivers. I blink and Ralph is already running, with bullets flying all around. My heart stops. I can’t bear to watch, yet can’t tear my eyes away either. Then, the inevitable happens. Ralph is falling, gracefully, only 20m from the trenches. It feels as though it’s happening in slow motion, as if time has stopped and I am the only one who can save him.

Without even thinking, I run. I can feel soldiers tearing at my clothes as I push past them. I can hear them yelling my name screaming out to ‘stop’, like the drowning sound a car horn makes in a collision. But I ignore it. I Jump the trench and begin to army crawl. I push past the putrid, rotten corpses and the remaining brass shells of the bullets that have killed my friends and continue moving forward, keeping all my focus on my paralysed best friend.

I finally reach him. I feel sick in the stomach from the dread that is filling my body. If only I could swap places with him and be the one lying there, drifting in and out of consciousness. Fresh blood from his wound is still trickling out onto his stained red shirt to mix with dry blood covering his face from the horrific head wound caused when he fell on the stony ground. He looks a mess and I will never be able to shake this image from my mind. Now, I’m even more determined to see him healthy again, so I grab his arm and begin to drag him. With every push forward, I am a little closer to the trenches, safe ground; but with every push I can feel the energy draining from me, my muscles straining to pull the dead weight behind me. I start to get closer to the trenches and I can see the soldiers’ heads poking out, waiting in anticipation for me to reach the finish line.

I make it to our trenches and the soldiers take Ralph from me. I want to yell out but my voice doesn’t make a sound. It’s hard to process what is happening. My body is full of adrenaline. I’m so disorientated everything is a blur and with that, I black out.

It’s night time and the moon’s shinning bright through my window. The air smells pure. I can hear the trees moving in rhythm with the wind and I feel a calmness over the place. Where am I? Am I back to reality? Or am I still revisiting the nightmares of my past? I sit up and slowly stumble out of bed. My eyes are slowly adjusting to the darkness; I don’t recognise the place but I feel like I’ve been here before. Without even thinking I walk to the light switch and turn it on, and stare in the mirror. My world starts spinning around me. My thoughts are moving so fast through my head that I can’t seem to catch what I’m thinking, as if I’m detached from my body. I see a piece of paper, and lurch to grab it, hoping it can give me all the answers. It reads:

Medical Report

NAME: William John Turner

AGE: 49

SYMPTONS: – Flashbacks

- Disconnected

- Intense physical reactions to reminders of the event (e.g. pounding heart)

PAST MEDICAL HISTORY: No past medical history, but was a soldier in WW1.

DIAGNOSIS: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (Shell shock)

MEDICINES REFERRED: Anti-Depressant

SIGNATURE:

DATE: 15.06.1948

I put the paper down, and stare blankly in disbelief. Who said the war was ever going to end?

END

TWIN No 2

The Unwelcomed Reunion

From the moment that my heart began to race and the sounds of mournful cries for help were evident, I knew this day would never end…

When Peter gave his goodbyes to his family, there was no guarantee to say he’d be coming back. He kissed the women he so dearly loved and picked up the back pack that carried his possessions. As he walked away from his familiar Queenslander, in full army gear, the world stood still. Peter made his way to the taxi where he gave his final wave before everything he cherished was left behind. His final hours in Queensland were spent at the army barracks before he was escorted to the aircraft that would take him to his new home. The world slept, apart from the courageous Australian blokes just like Peter, who were sent to fight for the country they so loved. It was early and as the young men met for the first time the gravity of what was happening, sunk in. Peter had a mission. That mission was to survive and be reunited with his family. The feeling of pure desperation to survive and return hung heavily upon his shoulders like a wet coat. As Peter arrived at the army barracks he met the soldiers with whom he would spend the next weeks, months or years. He shook hand after hand, made joke after joke yet he could never fully overlook his task. Within a few hours he was up in the air, thousands of feet above the ground, contemplating the possible outcomes that could occur. When he landed on the airstrip in Vietnam with his new mates, Peter knew his task had begun.

Boom! On a silent signal, several mines exploded. When Peter regained use of his ears, the air was filled with the sharp clatter of weapons firing, frantic calls of ‘Contact’ and sounds of diggers running. The gun shots were moving closer, and those he now called family were hitting the ground. Clutching at the gun lying beside him, Peter began to feel the pain welling within his leg. He reached out and grabbed the shoulder of his mate Jack who was lying in shock beside him.  Leaning over, he said, “We have company, run for your life.” They were in danger, and they knew it. As Jack got up he shouted to Peter, “You coming?” Peter, now sitting up and gripping at his leg, was struggling to bend it, “Go on without me,” he shouted. Jack knelt down as Peter continued to push him away. Peter knew that to stay meant death but he also knew that he couldn’t walk and risking Jack’s life for his just wasn’t an option. Despite his friend’s protests, Jack applied pressure to Peter’s wound and tied a shirt around his leg to hold it in place.

By now the enemy was close. Peter was suffering enormous pain but he kept going. Jack knew that, for Peter to survive, they had to stay together.  The only sounds heard now were pounding hearts and gasping for air. As they ran deeper into the forest, Jack expected every step to be his last. They followed well behind the rest of the team and struggled desperately to catch up.  Shots were still popping over their heads, as the enemy fired blindly in their direction. Peter clung to Jack as he staggered towards the jungle in the distance. Just as the gap between them and the enemy was starting to widen, Peter suddenly dropped and Jack knew this was it. Jack rolled him over to find blood now seeping through his shirt. Peter struggled to breathe and his voice became wispy. “You must go” he pleaded. As Peter’s eyes rolled forwards and backwards Jack knew his mate could not make it. Peter was in so much pain. Jack knelt down beside him and Peter handed him a chain from around his neck and said “Give this to my family.” Tears welled up, as did the pain in Peter’s body. Jack grabbed the gun and spoke his final words to him, “You won’t be forgotten.” With that Jack closed his eyes, took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. Peter was now peacefully at rest and full of dignity while Jack ran for his life.

As Jack continued, the pain rose up inside, but somewhere within him he knew he had done the right thing. The diggers made very little noise, but with each crackle of a dead leaf, each snap of a twig, the sounds echoed through their minds like cannon shots.  Their hearts beat faster. The air was filled with the odours of sweat, damp soil and decaying vegetation.

Eventually the war was over for Jack and he had survived but around his neck hung a chain that reminded him that one task was not over. Arriving home, his was mission was to return this piece of history to Peter’s family.

Jack opened the door to Peter’s Queenslander, sensing the scent of his friend drift through the hallway. He said to himself, “I’m just his mate, but on the 30^th of April, 1975, I lost not only my mate but my brother”.

END

My daughters have both passed their tests and now are holders of Queensland Provisional Driver’s Licences. They have their “Ps” (as they are called) and can drive unsupervised.

Twin No 2 went first and passed with flying colours. That put Twin No 1 under pressure but she also got it at the first go.

Their first official duty was to drive themselves and their little brother (my little buddy) home from school.

It will be heaven. No longer will I have to rush away from work every day to pick them up and then drive like a mad woman to drop them off on time at the various places they have to be. I can take my time and enjoy the scenery.

AND no more log books. I seem to recall writing that I wanted to burn these accursed things but now I don’t care – they have their “Ps” and I don’t care.

I can now relax in front of the TV and enjoy a glass of wine and not have to worry about picking up one of the girls. I might be able to have a bit of a social life of my own now.

But I fear that my hard won freedom will be short lived. My little buddy is discovering sport. He now plays soccer on the weekends as well as tennis after school and AFL at school. Soccer and AFL are winter sports and tennis is after school.

That means I still have summers free. I think that I will tell him that playing cricket makes a person bad at video games and chasing a cricket ball around a field all day will give him sunstroke.

Or better still, playing cricket makes you like girls – that will do it!

In Queensland, a Learner’s Permit can be obtained at 16 but the learner driver has to complete 100 hours of supervised driving before a provisional licence can be obtained after turning 17.

“Supervised driving” just rolls off the tongue but I can assure you that it is a major pain. And to make matters worse, I have had two lots of 100 hours of this torture to endure.

I wonder if governments give any consideration to the poor parents when they think up these schemes. I doubt it

“Well”, I hear you all say, “it is a very sensible idea to ensure that they will have some experience before being let loose on the roads”. And I agree, it is a good idea. But it would be even better if someone else could do the supervising.

Let me list a few of the things that you can expect if you have a child who will want to learn to drive.

First of all, forget about just hopping in to the car to go somewhere. The very same teenager who would be oblivious to the house burning down suddenly develops a super human sense that detects as soon as you even think about driving somewhere. She (or he as the case may be) will be standing by the car with keys in hand even before the thought of driving has entered your head. (Before this I did not believe in Extra Sensory Perception – now I am convinced that it exists!)

But even then it is no simple matter of getting in the car and going. NO – You have to make sure the “L Plates” are displayed and then there is the dreaded Log Book. The “Log Book” – the very sound of these words makes me want to scream! I hope that the Log Books are returned after inspection by the Transport Department so I can burn the accursed things.

It is not only that they are a bureaucratic nightmare to fill out, but the two particular books belonging to my daughters are possessed with minds of their own. Clearly, that’s the only conclusion I can draw when both twins assure me that “it was in the car” when the books regularly go missing at least once a week.

Then there are the “arguments” – “I have to drive because she has more hours than me!” “She” – I thought I gave them names at birth.

On top of all this there is the parking practice. Just when I figure it is time to take a short break I am assailed by pleading requests to take them into town to practice parallel and reverse in parking. This part is made worse by the realisation that they can now do both better than I can.

However the big final test comes in a matter of a few weeks and both Peter and me are praying that they pass as it means that –joy oh joy – they can drive unsupervised

I don’t know what I will do if one passes and the other doesn’t but I’ll face that disaster if and when it happens.

Being serious, when I think about it I am actually grateful for the 100 hours (times two). We have been able to instruct and observe and, I hope, instil some good road sense into them.

On the other hand, after they get the Provisional Licences, another issue will arise. We could only afford to buy one cheap second car for them to share and I can see it now. It will be like the wrestling on TV – No need for “Pay per View” – we will have free “WWE Smackdown” on our front yard.

It will go something like this: Shouting of – “My Soccer / or Taekwondo is more important than your stupid Taekwondo or Soccer.” Then there will be a full on brawl followed by the unmistakeable sound of a body slam with the victor driving away to the aforesaid Taekwondo OR Soccer and the loser vowing bloody revenge followed by “Mum can I borrow your car to go …….”

Then again, one thing will not change and that is their belief that petrol somehow just appears in the tank. I am debating whether I should take them to a petrol station and explain the “facts of life” to them or let them find out about this for themselves like they did for Santa, The Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny.

No I’ll let them find out the hard way. I’d just like to be a “fly on the wall” the first time they pull into the local service station and have to front up to the counter to pay for the fuel. This alone would make up for the 2 x 100 hours.