Ladies and gentlemen, the time has finally come.
I, Sophie Wallace, have turned the big one seven and have been let loose behind the wheel of a moving motor vehicle.
Oh yes, the time has come for me to learn to drive, and I could not be any more grateful.
Of course, being the disorganised and usually skint person I am, I never actually ordered my provisional driving licence until the day of my actual 17th birthday, despite the fact I was so desperate to start learning.
So when my mum and dad presented me with a block of 10 driving lessons, I thought it would probably be for the best if I got it ordered.
It arrived within a week (much to my surprise actually, considering the Government told me it could take up to a fortnight) which meant my first lesson could be booked for the following Wednesday night.
I’d like to add in at this point that I wasn’t actually nervous at all.
It wasn’t until Wednesday night come half four did I get the feeling that I wanted to run away into a dark hole and cry.
However, I met my driving instructor, Iain Henry, and after he explained all the basics to me, boom, it was time.
I’ve got to admit, the whole experience itself was wonderful.
It was so weird driving past the places I know, with me behind the wheel.
Like, I drove past my gran and auntie’s house, down past some of my friends’ houses too, the whole ordeal was completely bizarre.
However, I eased into the whole situation and before I knew it, I came to the realisation that I can actually, not too badly, function a car (despite the fact I have a bit of a problem with braking, but we’ll leave at bay for now).
But what made matters even better was that my instructor Iain himself was so patient with me.
Personally, I think this is all fantastic, because I’m not panicking in the car, and that means I’m less likely to crash.
And that’s wonderful news in anyone’s books.