Well it only took 11 months but my dear husband is officially safe for French roads. He passed the final hurdle in the great obstacle course known as the quest for a permis de conduire. He has in his possession a flimsy piece of paper that will substitute for the real McCoy, which I’m told should arrive via post in a few weeks. Right. I’ll believe that when I see it.

In all honesty I still have trouble accepting the drama involved in getting a French driver’s licence. I mean the study, the practice, blah, blah, le blah, but really what burns my arse is the money, now a grand total for Big Red alone of just over 600 euros. That’s $780 CDN or 10,000 Mexican pesos or 60,000 Japanese yen. Any way you slice it, a shitload of cash that could’ve been spent on moi.

Think of the books or massages or croissants or wine that wad of cash could buy. It breaks my heart. There’s nothing I like more than pacing about, twisting my moustache while hatching a plan for someone else’s hard earned moolah. I tell you it’s just not right. I know he had to actually endure the whole bloody process but still, it’s obvious to anyone with half a brain who’s the real victim in this mess.

I suppose it’s always a good practice to focus on the positive. At least I have my chauffeur back. I don’t really have anywhere to go, but it’s a comfort to know that someone is legally equipped to respond to my snapping fingers. Seriously though, I am very proud of him. He’s no slouch that one, as clever as he is dextrous. Determined, fearless and capable, good qualities in a partner. I’ve never seen him falter during this adventure. It’s incredibly annoying. I’m like a raving lunatic half the time and he just takes everything exactly how it comes to him.

Some days I wonder what it must be like to be him, to be instantly skilled at everything and anything you try. Apparently the only thing he ever failed to master was aerobics back in the early 90’s. How he ever recovered from that crisis of confidence I’ll never know. Other days I wonder what would happen to him if life suddenly handed him something that he couldn’t conquer, some mountain he couldn’t climb no matter how hard he tried.

I suspect he married me as a personal challenge to pass the most difficult test on the planet. I’d say he figures 10 years spent in my company means he’s in the clear, but I’m thinking he’s due for another exam soon. Since scheming how to spend 600 bucks is out of the question, I’ve got some time on my hands. I’ll see what I can come up with.