What you may not have thought about is the person in front of you.

Someone who has butterflies in the pit of their stomach, is obsessed by the thought of stalling, and, even as they snail up the road at 15 miles per hour, worrying about the fact that they seem to be expected to be able to do 16 things at once.

After my first driving lesson last week, I am beginning to see why learners are a huge cause of annoyance to some motorists.

I had never quite appreciated how much drivers have to remember.

The few minutes of my lesson were spent just learning the basic things needed to actually sit in a car, my instructor doing such things as standing in what I am told is known as the blind spot and waving to demonstrate that I could not see him.

After squinting in a mole-like fashion attempting to read the number plates of other cars, I started, very slowly, to drive.

Having inched carefully round the car park of a garden centre for three quarters of an hour, I was set loose on the public highways.

This, after a surreal (but educational nevertheless) hour of hearing ‘Now there’s an old man at the (imaginary) crossing – brake!’ while surrounded by flower pots, filled me with excitement.

My feeling of elation at being able to drive on an actual real road was rapidly replaced by one of utter terror, however, when, as I was driven to the secluded stretch of road (rarely frequented by anyone except other learners) where I was to make my driving debut, I began to contemplate the thought of sharing the road with other vehicles.

But, as I nervously raised my hands to the wheel in a dutiful quarter past three position, I began to calm down, my instructor speaking in calming tones about gears and clutches and all sorts of other things I’d been introduced to that morning.

So, feeling rather conspicuous in a car emblazoned with L plates, I set off, after the appropriate cockpit drill and ‘mirror signal whatsit’ routines, of course.

The roads would never be safe again.

Rosie Finnigan

Kirkham resident