Not much difference so far
Eight days ago, in reporting to readers of this organ that I was about to begin a driving ban for having amassed a cumulative 12 points for minor speeding offences upon the roads of Britain, I concluded my piece by stating that I proposed to offer occasional reflections upon the ban as I endured it.
This is the first such bulletin.
As it happens – right now – I am in a state of some legal/administrative limbo in that (as far as I am aware) the court involved still has yet to hear or consider my case.
Put it this way, as yet it certainly hasn’t advised me of any outcome or sentence imposed upon me.
As with the “suspension” of much of everyday UK life as we used to know it, the reason for this delay is no doubt down to the effects of the Covid-19 pandemic.
Court case backlogs have been mounting up over the past eighteen months or so because of the inevitable disruptions and delays that have occurred in administrative offices all over the country and also the “health & safety” protocols from time in place regarding people gathering together at all.
As I indicated previously, I had received paperwork from both the Met Police and the court – as I presume did others in my situation – stating that I had the option of turning up to supply mitigation arguments in court as to why I should not be banned or, if I did not wish to provide such evidence, I could indicate as much on the form provided and the court would thereafter proceed to sentence me without actually holding a court hearing proper.
I opted not to go down the mitigation route – believing it in practice to be effectively a waste of time – so duly filled out and returned the form in order to announce this.
The final paragraph in the paperwork I’d received informed me that in any event under no circumstances should I drive a car from Monday 16th August onwards pending the receipt of a formal statement detailing what my sentence was going to be.
Since when I have received nothing.
The irony of the situation is that so far my life has not changed a great deal.
Granted, as you’d expect, it is decidedly inconvenient and frustrating to wake up with a strong urge to go and buy your newspaper in the next village, or to spend time planning to go somewhere that previously by road would have taken no more than twenty minutes to reach … and then have it dawn upon you that, although your car is parked nearby, you can no longer drive it and therefore cannot act upon your plan.
At least, not without going to the chore of making alternative arrangements.
In my own case the resentment I feel at the frustration/buggeration factor caused by my driving ban is compounded as – on a daily basis, often whilst sitting in the passenger seat of a car being driven by someone else – I am forced to watch frequent instances of other motorists driving on Britain’s roads either incompetently and/or like complete idiots.
I’m not kidding myself. I acknowledge the fact that I have broken the law and in broad terms I do subscribe to the maxim that “If you’ve done the crime you must serve the time”.
However, for good or ill, at the moment I retain an undercurrent of misguided belief that – in the scheme of things – my “crimes” are relatively trifling items and, in one sense, the authorities and my fellow countrymen should be grateful for the considerable financial contribution that I have made (sorry, fines that I have paid) over the years that have gone towards the maintenance of Britain’s roads.
Arguably, the nation would be far better off – literally and figuratively – if it gave me back my driving licence and thereby began receiving again the income flow that inevitably results from me driving/roaming free all over southern England and getting “pinged” now and again for being 3 or 4 miles per hour over any given speed limit.
To this point, of course, as yet during my ban I have had no requirement to resort to using public transport (overland trains, the Tube, buses etc.) in order to attend social functions, meetings, medical appointments or court case hearings.
Part of the reason for this is that – never mind the pandemic – I don’t seem to get out as much these days as I did in the past.
A couple of days ago I even managed to avoid attending a godson’s wedding scheduled to take place next month halfway across the country by the device of deploying the twin excuses that, firstly, sadly my ban prevents me driving there and, secondly, being both on the cusp of entering my eighth decade and, being anxious in the extreme about the threat to my “at risk” life presented the Delta variant of the virus (this a lie), I hoped he and his beloved would understand and sympathise if I did not feel comfortable with the prospect of getting there and back via public transport.
I then attempted to assuage my guilt at bailing out by spending the best part of £300 on a wedding present for the happy couple.
Some might with justification point out that the gesture could be regarded as insincere because – by not making the effort to be there – I was probably saving myself a minimum £500 in terms of a round-trip travel and accommodation costs taking in an overnight stay in an upmarket hotel in an upmarket part of the country.
And – well, there you have it – today is another day.
