O is for Oh Comely

A few years ago, on one of my many train jaunts between Saltaire and London, to see David, I picked up a copy of a magazine from a newsagents. Normally, I shy away from the magazine stands. I couldn't care less which celebrity has been snapped on the beach, I don't have a garden, I couldn't give a monkey's about fashion and I couldn't be less interested in reading about gadgets and technology. However, this time, something caught my eye - Oh Comely Magazine!

I was drawn in originally by the intriguing cover and spare, but, somehow calming layout of the magazine. It doesn't scream at my eyes, like so many of the other magazines on the market, it just gently presents interesting stories and appealing images to you, inviting you to wander in and enjoy what it has to offer. Their 'cover girl' is not a glossy, photoshopped film star but a simple portrait of a fresh-faced young woman because, as they put it, "different, interesting women are our heroes".

Adorably illustrated advice from Grandparents.

This wonderful bi-monthly treat presents stories and remembrances, features about crafty trinkets, news about exhibitions, recipes, photo essays, new music and alternative fashion photography (often featuring second hand or vintage finds). It also celebrates creative and interesting people who are not often featured in other publications, such as Kristen Peers, a portrait photographer who is working on a series of images to celebrate her 50th birthday. It also includes a lot of whimsical, fun articles including the editorial team attempting to pass Guide and Scout badges, holding races using their own lego-built cars or finding out how many words can be created from a tin of alphabet spaghetti. Daft, but utterly adorable.

A regular playlist of the music the editorial team
listened to whilst creating that issue is also made
available on Spotify.

Oh Comely is something of an escape for me. After a week of marking, parents' evenings and college politics, it is bliss to curl up under the quilt with photographs from around the world, people's memories of their childhoods, a playlist of new and interesting music, fascinating finds from people's attics and the fanciful, glorious illustrations. It is, clearly, very carefully targeted directly at me as a roughly middle-class woman in her 30's, but I don't care. Fire away, Oh Comely - you've hit my taste, dead-on!

One of the best things about the magazine, in my opinion, is the interaction between the readership and the team behind its creation. Each month features one of the most adorable letters pages ever, where the front of each note or postcard appears on one page and the reverse of each on the back of the same page. It is wonderful to see how Oh Comely has inspired people all over the world to get drawing, making, writing and pondering and the enthusiasm for those, like me, caught up in this magic little oasis of escapist calm. As well as running a film club for their readers, they decided to deliver some of their editions by hand, to celebrate their third birthday (as seen in the video below).

The back cover often includes a positive
message - such as this one from last issue.

For my birthday in 2012, David bought me a year-long subscription to the magazine as a gift and, not only did I get a lovely hand-written postcard from the team to tell me that I had been bought a subscription, but every new issue was delivered with the message 'Happy Birthday' in my address. It was such a fantastic present as, naturally, it lasted all year. I was lucky enough to receive the same gift (amongst other treats) this year - brilliant!

N is for Nick Drake

I was introduced to Nick Drake many moons ago by two good friends, Carl, and Trish. Carl played me Five Leaves Left, Drake's melodious debut album, in his Land Rover on one of our jaunts around the countryside when we were both involved in a band. I immediately felt drawn to hear more of this intricate, melancholy sound. Shortly after, my friend Trish played me some of his music at a time when I felt particularly delicate. She had kindly collected me from work on my last day at a particular job, when emotions always run high, and I was having a hard time of things in lots of ways. She sat me down in a comfortable chair with a chilled glass of white wine, put Five Leaves Left on the stereo and left me to my thoughts whilst she prepared some dinner. It was one of those moments I will always remember - it was exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it. In those moments - both as the moorland of Yorkshire whizzed by, through the little windows of the Land Rover, and as the evening light filtered onto my fingers whilst I sank into a comfortable chair - that I first heard the songs of the beautiful, fragile Nick Drake and his shattered soul.

Drake was an incredibly talented musician, with an ability to weave lyrics that seem to move something deep inside me. He was haunted throughout his life by depression and, as a reclusive and withdrawn individual for most of his life, his songs were, in a way, his voice. The ever recurrent mental anguish he suffered is clear in lyrics - 'And the people round your head, Who say everything's been said, And the movement in your brain, Sends you out into the rain'. Equally, songs such as Saturday Sun speak of moments of brightness in what must have been quite a dark inner life at times, also echoing how fleeting these times were 'Saturday's sun has turned to Sunday's rain, Saturday's sun won't come and see me today'. From what close friends and family of mine, who have experienced depression, have told me, his lyrics reflect very closely the experiences they have had.

A self-taught musician who studied English Literature at Cambridge, his work is infused with the kind of literary allusions so common in the work of his favourite poets, William Blake and W.B. Yeats. He uses features from the rural landscape he grew up in to reflect the emotion at the core of his music to great effect, producing often quite simple, but deeply affecting lyrics that curl sinuously around the carefully crafted music he wrote. In 1974, Nick Drake died from an overdose of anti-depressants at the age of just 26. Whilst there is still some discussion about whether this was a deliberate or accidental act, it undoubtedly took from the world a rare talent.

In 2006, Trish married another of my friends, Kenny, the drummer from the aforementioned band - to everyone's joy and delight. At the time, I couldn't make it to their wedding, but in the card I sent, I included some of the lyrics from Time Has Told Me, (above) as nothing seemed more apt on the union of two soulmates who had found each other at last. Sadly, Kenny passed away in 2008 and is very badly missed by all who knew him. He was a wonderful man and every time I hear this beautiful song it reminds me of them both.

In May 2009, I went with my friend, Amanda, to see an amazing tribute to Nick Drake's music in Birmingham Town Hall featuring, amongst others Graham Coxon, Martha Wainwright and Beth Orton.  It was a very memorable, moving and rather tipsy night!

My friend Sharon and I, have talked many times about visiting Tamworth-in-Arden, where Nick is buried, as his music has meant so much to us both. During some sadder times, we have both taken solace in his songs and sharing them together has been so important to us both.

As much as I miss my beloved Yorkshire, the lyrics from this track, Northern Sky (above), rather aptly, sums my feelings on meeting David back in 2010.

'I never felt magic crazy as this

I never saw moons, knew the meaning of the sea

I never held emotion in the palm of my hand

Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree

But now you're here

Brighten my northern sky'

Thank you, Nick. Thank you for your songs. 

M for Mucha

One of my favourite artists of all time is Alphonse Mucha, the Czech born painter and illustrator. His beautiful illustrations and inspired design work are somewhat timeless in their appeal. He is an artist who was dismissed by many critics during his lifetime because of his work on poster design and illustration - seen as a low-brow form of art (as it still is, by some). However, for me, he was a key artist in a developing form, whose design sensibilities and passionate belief in the art of his own country spurred him on to travel the world and develop his style.

The Four Seasons 1900 - Alphonse Mucha

When I moved into my first flat on my own, one of the first things I purchased was a set of prints of The Four Seasons created by Mucha, in 1900. He often worked on the theme of the four seasons but this is my favourite of all the versions he created. At a time when I was uncertain of the future, I found these images inspiring and emotional. The beauty and hope he found in each of the seasons gave me such reassurance that Winter will move on to Spring - things will change and move on and more beauty will be revealed.

The view of Mala Strana over the Vlatava River.

In March 2008, my friend Moira and I decided to take a trip to Prague, very much spurred on by our fascination with Mucha's work and the mysteries of this city and its fascinating history. I discovered a beautiful city, with unique architecture, public art work on every corner and a focus on form as well as function. The Municipal House in the centre of the city was built as a celebration of Czech art and Mucha contributed to several murals and the overall design of the building. It stands as a symbol of the vast influence the Czech artists had on the Art Nouveau movement and remains an amazing place to visit, both inside and out.

The restaurant inside the Municipal House in Prague, 
where we enjoyed a delicious lunch.

The Municipal House in Prague. 

Mucha was a man who had also his faults. He is credited with establishing the Prague chapter of Freemasonry, an organisation I find particularly suspicious, and his work was instrumental in the development of advertising, as he produced many images for print adverts. However, his passion for his craft and the focus he put on promoting the work of his countrymen cannot be denied.

L is for The League of Gentlemen

In 1999, in the final year of my degree, I spent some time sworn off television. I had become disillusioned with what was being broadcast and I had to face that fact that I had a dissertation to write, and watching hours of daytime television really wouldn't help. I had the notion that this decision would give me the opportunity to do so many other life-enriching things with the time I had spent glued to the box. It didn't. I spent more time playing computer games and in the pub - neither of which helped me complete my dissertation or develop more skills. Perhaps more unfortunately, just as I turned my back on a medium that felt it was doing very little to entertain me, several new programmes started that would be ripe for doing just that.

Reece Shearsmith, Mark Gatiss, Jeremy Dyson &
Steve Pemberton.

Having been a regular visitor to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe since my childhood, I had heard of The League of Gentlemen and with their Perrier Award win in 1997, I always intended to find out more about them. In 1997, their radio series On The Town with The League of Gentlemen aired, which introduced many of the characters that would eventually appear in the television series. I only heard this after seeing some of the television series, but it includes one of my favourite characters - Mr. Ingleby, the infeasibly tiny shopkeeper, a character perhaps most effectively portrayed in a non-visual medium of radio.

The League themselves are made up of writer, Jeremy Dyson, and writer-performers, Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith. Whilst Dyson's writing should not be dismissed, as it is key to the success of their work, Gatiss, Pemberton and Shearsmith's performances are incredible. Each character is entirely distinct, with their own voice, mannerisms, expressions and posture and almost all parts within the series are played by these three actors alone. The fact that we, as an audience, come to see the female characters as 'women' within such a short amount of time is just one of the wonders they weave with their careful construction of believable individuals in this almost too real environment.

Overwhelmingly dark in nature, this comedy series and the resulting live performances, film and specials are always funny, sometimes sad and terrifically unsettling. It sparks precisely the right balance between those jokes that a part of you feels maybe you shouldn't really laugh at and full-on, almost slapstick situations and sketches.

Some of the characters from the show became cult fixtures for my generation. Papa Lazarou and his terrifying circus became very well-known, even amongst those unfamiliar with the series, but he was just one of the many ingeniously crafted characters we meet in Royston Vasey, the fictional village the series is set in. One of my favourites is Pauline Campbell-Jones, Restart Officer at the Job Centre in the town. In this one, monstrous, woman, so many of the patronising, belittling and ineffective processes developed to 'support' the unemployed in recent times, as well as the small-minded and judgemental attitudes of many towards those out of work, are expertly parodied. A woman who thrives on humiliating those she is supposed to be helping, she is cruel, spiteful and manipulative - sadly echoing many people in similar positions of responsibility who choose to use their minimal power to gain a sense of advantage over others. Across the story arc we see her get what may be seen as her comeuppance, including the humiliation of having to join a Restart course herself when she loses her job, but, by the end of series 3 the audience find compassion for this damaged woman and she is very much be one of the mainstays of the series.

Having lived in several small communities during my life, Tubbs and Edward and their notion

of the importance of being 'local' is certainly familiar. The insular nature of small remote villages and towns is so well portrayed in the series, from the bitter old women in the charity shop, right through to the bumptious town councillor, Maurice Evans, the dark tales of real-life communities gone bad seem to echo off the walls of Royston Vasey. Indeed, filmed in a variety of locations within Derbyshire and West Yorkshire - both places I've lived during my life - the streets, buildings and moorland that have been effortlessly stitched together to create the fictional town make it feel like a very 'real' place.

The pathos of Les McQueen and his tales of unfulfilled rock stardom or the chaotic, crumbling relationship of Charlie and Stella Hull carefully build characters with a very real background and history, inviting us to see a brief, bleak snapshot of their lives. These are not cardboard cut-out, roughly drawn shadows of people that we are invited to laugh at, they are given the depth and detail of a past - their own subtleties and personalities. Les' stories of his former glory are just as moving as they are funny, whilst Charlie and Stella bicker relentlessly, only to find sudden peace at the end of the sketch when they are united in a mis-understanding.

Legz Akimbo Theatre Company or, as Rev. Bernice
Woodhall, the cynical God-less minister of Royston Vasey
calls them 'AIDS in a van'.

Legs Akimbo, the theatre group who arrive at the school in Royston Vasey 'Everybody Out!' their 'show about sexuality aimed at 9 to 12 year olds' strike a particular chord with me. Having sat through many well-meaning 'plays about issues' during my own time at school, I then went on to study theatre in education within my degree and the horror of such trite, patronising nonsense was all around me. Everything within this particular scene clearly echoes the performer's similar experiences, from the walking on the spot 'technique' to the clumsy attempts at symbolism and the ill-conceived 'tableaus'.

Mark Gatiss' monologue as the tour guide of Stump Hole Cavern is not only a superb piece of writing, but also fabulously performed, with the weary acceptance of a tour guide who tells his tale many times a day, whilst revealing a story of horror. Performed just as movingly on stage in a tuxedo, as in full costume on location, this is a comedic masterpiece.

Frustrated street magician Dean Tavalouris
from series 3 - another of my favourite characters.

Series 3 of the show, the last made for television, took a turn in style and moved much more towards comedy-drama than the sketch format of previous two series. It showcased the team's ability to weave a complex multi-stranded narrative around the characters we had grown to love. Each episode occurred concurrently, climaxing in the same incident each week, but from a different character's perspective. Through this device the truth behind the incident, its cause and implications are all revealed slowly and it is a fabulous method for creating intrigue as well as providing us with an insight into each individual's place as part of a whole.

I could write forever about this series, from the joy of the interstitial scenes that continue throughout episodes to the vaguely haunting theme tune and richly layered cultural references, it is all a treat. Not humour for the faint-hearted, this thoughtfully and lovingly nurtured body of work remains endlessly watchable.

K is for Kate Atkinson

“The beginning is the word and the end is silence. And in between are all the stories.” 

Kate Atkinson, Human Croquet.

 

Whilst at University, one of my favourite lecturers, Chris Prior, recommended a book he had recently read that he believed I would love. It became one of the best recommendations anyone has ever made to me. He lent me his dog-eared and well-loved copy of Behind the Scenes at the Museum, by Kate Atkinson and I devoured it in 48 hours flat.

Having studied English Literature for A-Level whilst at college, my once fervent love of reading had taken something of a battering. Being required to read texts, selected by someone else, and then having to dissect said works in minute detail, can really take the pleasure out of reading for a 17 year-old. I'd recently discovered Ian McEwan and enjoyed his work (later discovering, to my annoyance, that we could have studied his amazing 1987 novel, A Child in Time, as a set text instead of another Shakespeare) but I was reading for pleasure sparingly. This was odd as, in childhood, I'd rarely had my head out of a book. I suppose it is hard to enjoy books for fun, when you know you really should be working your way through 'that Chaucer' or 'another Thomas Hardy'.

University bought with it yet more interminable reading lists and set-texts, but the pressure felt somewhat eased, and Chris' thoughtful suggestion bought me back to the world of the bookworm with a bang. Atkinson's first novel is an intriguing and engrossing tale that follows the story of Ruby Lennox, a woman living in modern-day York, and the lives of four generations of women from her family. The narrative is structured to tell Ruby's story in 13 linear chapters, which are interspersed with non-linear flashbacks to the lives of her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. Through these glimpes we gain a picture of the lives of the woman that came before Ruby and the way that their tales intertwine and echo each other is captivating. Intrigue is established, family secrets revealed and the differences, as well as the aching similarities, of these four women's existences floods the book with a depth of emotion rare in contemporary fiction.

In Human Croquet, her second work, Atkinson plays with the notion of time travel and the concept of

tracking a lineage within a family through a blend of first and third person narratives. Although not popular with many of her fans, I loved this book and its quirky non-linear narrative and jumps in perspective. It is not an easy read, but it is, as the story unfolds, a highly rewarding story. 2000's Emotionally Weird manages to be a story about writing without, as so many do, becoming at all self-indulgent or cliquey. It examines the process of telling stories, how our own memories are infused by the stories of others and the way that we rely on the tales of others to guide our own development. It has a quirky, sometimes disconcerting style but again proves what a unique talent Atkinson has for revealing a story to her readers in the most unexpected of ways.

Atkinson's next four books, Case Histories, One Good Turn, When Will There Be Good News? and Started Early, Took My Dog are all detective novels featuring her most popular
character, Jackson Brodie. She retains her quirky style and ability to weave twists and turns that even the most suspicious of readers cannot predict, drawing together, Douglas Adams-style, the most disparate of elements within a narrative to the same nexus point at the climax of a story. These remain, undoubtedly, fantastic fiction and Brodie is certainly an appealing character, but I have to say, I prefer her other more abstract works from the generally linear-natured Brodie books. I was also massively disappointed by the BBC's attempts to dramatise the Brodie books for TV in 2011, but then so much of the joy of Atkinson's work, for me, is in the delicacy of her prose and the vivid imagery conjured by her inspired use of language.

Atkinson has a knack for choosing locations for her novels that I hold dear to my heart. The cobbled Shambles of York in Behind the Scenes, the gritty streets of Leeds in Started Early, Took My Dog, Edinburgh, alive with colour during the Festival Fringe in One Good Turn - all places I know well and have great affection for. I think it is always so exciting to read a book and to know the geography of the place being written about so well that even I, with my questionable sense of direction, can feel the mental map I have of that place being bought to life on the page. Even when she uses settings I don't know so well - Cambridge in Case Histories, for example - her evocative descriptions makes you want to know the place better and spurs on a sense of adventure in the reader.

Last month, a new Kate Atkinson hit the shelves in the form of Life After Life and I cannot wait to indulge myself in a copy. I was thrilled when I heard she was exploring once again the world outside the Jackson Brodie universe and, from everything I've heard so far, I'm very excited about reading it. A tantalising campaign was built up in the weeks before the novel's release via a daily pin on Pinterest featuring imagery from the book and a short snippet from the text - it has certainly got me intrigued!

“In the end, it is my belief, words are the only things that can construct a world that makes sense.” 

Kate Atkinson, Behind The Scenes at the Museum

J is for Joss Whedon

In 2005, when I was 26, my life changed radically. I found myself single for the first time since I was
17, living alone, with a distinctly new outlook on life. After nearly 10 years in what was, in retrospect, a very controlling relationship, it was time to re-evaluate things, decide what I wanted from life and decide what the future held for me, independent of anyone else. For a very short while, I felt lost and alone, but surprisingly quickly, I realised how incredibly liberating this was. As a result I began to re-evaluate everything, from my previously vegan lifestyle (it is amazing how easy it is to justify going back to vegetarianism is when you have blue cheese again for the first time in 4 years) to what I wanted to watch, read and enjoy.

For years, so many friends, work-colleagues, academics and creative people I respected and admired had expounded on the merits of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. "It is so well-written" they would opine, "This Joss Whedon guy is a genius, and these characters are fantastically well-drawn", others would gush. I would nod politely, internally wondering what spell had been cast on so many people - people whose tastes co-incided closely with my own - when all I could see was a cheesy high-school drama with a ridiculous title and, I suspected, all the depth of Beverly Hills 90210. Of course, I'd never actually watched the series, but having seen, and hated, the 1992 film which I believed the series to be 'just like', I gave it a wide berth. 

The 'Scooby Gang' in the kind of 90210 shot
that had initially put me off giving Buffy a chance.

Cut to 2005, and my friend Craig brings up The Buffy Debate again. He cannot believe I haven't seen it and insists I give it a chance. In my new re-evaluative mood, I relent, and am very pleasantly surprised. We fly through season 1 fairly quickly as I discover that it is, indeed, a drama featuring teenage characters, who go to high-school. However, I also find, to my surprise that is it funny, clever and, despite being about a teenage girl who has been chosen to lead the battle against the vampire hoards, it is highly emotionally resonant. Show creator Joss Whedon had indeed, won me over - I had to admit.

Over the course of about 6 months, my main viewing becomes this fantastic series with its gutsy characters, carefully crafted relationships and best of all the narrative - this interwoven, richly-textured story that stops at all points on the passage from childhood to adulthood. It encompasses, amongst many other things; sexual awakening, familial relationships, bereavement, homosexuality, addiction, religion and of course the over-riding themes of responsibility, otherness and the growing pains of young adulthood. The more obvious metaphors of high-school being 'hell', a young woman fighting off demons and keeping secrets from those around her for their own protection are perhaps, plain to see.

The main premise is used to explore so many fascinating aspects of the human condition, and all with carefully constructed story arcs and great performances from the regular cast. The fact is that the programme I had dismissed as teen-drama tosh constantly surprised with episodes such as Hush, which featured 27 minutes without any dialogue, exploring the concept of a society without verbal communication. Never afraid to push the envelope episodes such as Once More With Feeling, an episode that happens entirely in the form of a musical or The Body which explored the devastating loss of a parent in a way that left its audience bereft, in many ways redefined the genre.

I went on to adore Firefly - the short-lived 'space-western' series created by Whedon. Once again, the beautifully drawn characters and their adventures drew me in quickly and made me care about their plight, with ease. Drawing on the best of the Western genre for tales of the treachery, survival and exploration in a pioneer culture, whilst blending in the tropes of sci-fi the series helped reflect human relationships through a different lens. The series, whilst cancelled early by a network disappointed that it hadn't immediately gained the mass audience appeal of Buffy, found a new cult status on DVD. The sales of this helped secure funding for a Whedon-penned and directed Firefly film, Serenity, in 2005. Having loved the series, I went to see Serenity at the cinema and was, again, blown away by the inspired plotting, engaging dialogue and wonderful style of the film. Again, Whedon's daring in snatching away from his audience some of the people they care about the most, without any of the usual conventions to indicate we will be losing someone, is both breathtaking and heartbreaking. 

Kick-ass Buffy

Much has been said about Whedon's ability to write strong female characters but it is important he be recognised for this, sadly, all too rare feature. Whilst it is easy to identify the ass-kicking vampire slayer Buffy, or Firefly's mechanic, Kaylee as pulling the switcheroo on defined gender roles, each of the female characters he has created are unique and surprising in their own ways. Take geeky Willow, who discovers not only her own true powers but her homosexuality throughout the story arc of Buffy or Anya, originally a 'vengeance demon' granting the wishes of wronged women, who has to learn how to be human. These are female characters whose individuality sing from the screen. Perhaps one of the most touching things about his writing for female characters is the way that he maintains their femininity without this diminishing

Fabulous Zoe and her adoring husband, Wash.

their ability to be powerful, intelligent and formidable. Firefly's Zoe is an affectionate wife, but this doesn't stop her being a fearsome, straight-talking renegade and Inara, quite literally schooled in 'womanly ways' as a companion, is a shrewd, sword-fighting business woman.

Whedon's mother, Lee Stearns, was a high-school teacher, credited with inspiring Jessica Neuwirth, founder of Equality Now, an organisation working for the protection of human rights for girls and women across the world. In 2006, Whedon was asked to speak at an Equality Now conference as an Honoree, for his part in the fight for gender equality. His speech, whilst highlighting how sad it is that he is so unusual in his dedication to writing strong roles for women, is highly inspiring.

“Equality is not a concept. It's not something we should be striving for. It's a necessity. Equality is like gravity. We need it to stand on this earth as men and women, and the misogyny that is in every culture is not a true part of the human condition. It is life out of balance, and that imbalance is sucking something out of the soul of every man and woman who's confronted with it. We need equality. Kinda now.” Joss Whedon, 2006. 

Whedon went on to create Angel, a spin-off from Buffy and Dollhouse, a sci-fi drama series which featured the actions of a shady corporation who use their abilities to implant skills and personality traits temporarily on individuals at the whim of their wealthy clients. 2008's, hilarious Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, was a 'musical tragicomedy in three acts' made specifically for internet distribution. Whedon's fans continued to enjoy his work and eulogise about his talent but the financial success, needed to gain backing from studios, still seemed to allude him.

2012 was an exciting year as it saw the release of horror film The 

2012's Avengers Assemble - just fantastic!

Cabin in the Woods, which he both wrote and produced, and the film adaptation of Marvel's Avengers, which he wrote and directed. Both films were fantastic - demonstrating once again, Whedon's ability to tell unique stories with depth and character. This time, however, the financial success to go with the adoration of his fans and, to date, Avengers is the third highest-grossing film of all time.

At present, Whedon is reported to be working on a TV show, again based on Marvel characters, currently titled Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D and a sequel to the Avengers, due for release in 2015. I can't wait to see more of his work.

I is for In The Driving Seat

On passing my test - February 2010.

One of the biggest challenges of my life to date was learning to drive. When I was 17, I was bought driving lessons by Mum and Dad and duly completed the application for my provisional driving license. Back then, full of youthful enthusiasm, I thought it would be easy to learn. My license arrived, I found a million other diversions and the lessons never happened.

Fast forward 6 or 7 years and, post-University, and living at the top of a very tiring hill in a West Yorkshire village, the urge to learn hit me again. I scrimped and saved the money I could to re-apply for a provisional license (having lost my original) and booked a block of 5 lessons. The license arrived, as did the instructor - a surly, no-nonsense Yorkshireman who, whilst kind to me, spent most of the first lesson informing me of his political views, swearing at other drivers and asserting that any non-white drivers would be driving un-taxed and un-insured cars. It is very hard trying to hold your tongue and concentrate on your clutch control at the same time. I'd like to say that this story ends with me giving him a piece of my mind and demanding a refund. Unfortunately, it actually ends with me running away from the car after my second lesson and avoiding his calls for several months. I didn't want to have to endure further diatribes on immigration, get into heated debates whilst trying to do hard drivery things or the admit to him, and myself, that I was giving up on my driving ambition so easily.

When I turned 29, I set myself a series of goals I wanted to achieve by the time I turned 30. One of them was to finally learn to drive and pass my test. As with most of the goals I set, I didn't manage this by my 30th, but I did make steady progress throughout 2008 and 2009, with an excellent instructor, this time in Bradford. Jim Mallatratt was an amazing teacher. Patient and considerate he really took the time to ensure I knew why I needed to do things, as well as how to do them. He could gauge very well what I needed to practice and, just when I felt a bit down about my progress, he would suggest great things such as a drive to a local village or town I hadn't been to before. Without making it obvious he always managed to remind me why I was learning to drive and the benefits it would bring, without being patronising or preachy.

With Moira in London, April 2011.

Friends and family sat, many a time, listening to me moan about the difficulties of roundabouts or quizzing those that drove on the secret to reversing around corners. Most of all they listened to me venting my frustration that I could not do this thing, this infuriating thing, of learning to operate a car properly and deal with traffic.

One of the most patient and encouraging of all my friends was Moira, a friend I had made when we taught Art History together at Bradford College. We had enjoyed many adventures together and, so often, we had only been able to do these things because she had driven us there. She was a constant source of encouragement - kicking my arse when I was getting scared off or began to look for excuses not to carry on - or talking me through the things I found difficult. She, like so many other friends, put up with constant questions about their driving when giving me lifts anywhere, with no hint of aggravation or annoyance. Most of all she kept reminding me of the one big thing that driving gives you - freedom.

I passed my test on my second attempt on 18th February 2010 - just off my 31st Birthday - and I was over the moon. I couldn't believe it when the Driving Examiner told me I had passed - I leapt from the car and began to jump up and down and hug a very embarrassed Jim! I made my way to Moira's a few nights later and we celebrated with champagne.

Moira with the celebratory champers!

Despite passing this milestone, I was then left in a position of being unable to afford to buy, tax and insure a car. This was unfortunate, as I'd just met David and, as he lived 200 miles away, it would have been useful to be able to drive there! As it was, we managed, using coaches and trains up and down the country for almost a year, before I got a job near London and we were that much closer to each other.

Sadly, in 2011, Moira passed away. She had faced a long and difficult battle with cancer over many years and this time, she did not get better. It was a terrifically sad time. During Moi's last visit to London I expressed that I wanted to save up to buy a car and make use of the license I had fought so hard to get. To my surprise she was very determined to dissuade me, pointing out how useless a car was if you were near London and saying I should spend my money on other things. I was a little surprised at the time, given her constant encouragement previously. However, after she passed away, this conversation made a lot more sense. In her will, Moira left me her car, her wonderful car. A last gift - the gift of freedom.

My lovely car looks just like this one!

Having the car has made a big difference to our lives. It has taken me a while to get back in the driving seat and I have to admit I still get a little nervous on long drives, but actually it has been lots of fun. I've had the obligatory bump, I've stalled it a few times and I've done the 'believing the sat-nav' newbie error and ended up down a farm track in the dark.

The best thing the car has given us is that precious freedom. We can plan holidays in the middle of the countryside, agree to go to parties and occasions that may be very far from public transport links, we can visit family members and even just get to the shops whenever we want. We don't really need a car as we can walk to work, but we do, at the moment, need  so much that feeling of freedom. Being able to get away from it all, or at least knowing that you can if you want to, is a tremendous feeling. Thank you, Moi!