What might be, one day

He bent down to give the dog a kiss.  She made him smile.  The shapes she sometimes would lay in her bed.  Her head was to the side, her ear sticking up and looked like she had a smile on her face.  She was in a deep sleep because when he kissed her, she didn't move.  Sometimes she might slowly lift her eyes open or do a big sigh, but not this morning.

He had already said bye to his Mum.  As he shut the front door behind him, he winced, just in case he let it bang behind him — not this morning. 

Ben took a deep breath in.  Although it was a wet, dark Monday morning, he was feeling happy.  As he set off for the bus, he knew that he had to alter his walk slightly to prevent the rainwater on the ground getting through the sole of his right trainer.  It felt good this morning; it smelt good even.  Really fresh.  The breeze was gentle on the trees he noticed.  The birds were going for it.  He looked up in one tree and could just make out about ten small birds.  The noise they could make!  It was a continual chirping of so many different sounds.  A bit like a machine, it had a busy, choppy, rhythm to it.  Why some had a particular call, compared to others, beat him.  It was like they competed with each other.  It could hardly be to attract a mate because they wouldn't have a clue who was saying what, such was the chitter-chatter.

It was still dark, the street lights on.  Some houses were still in darkness, and a few had lights on.  He started on his way.  He was a creature of habit, always walked across the road at the same point; heading to his bus stop.  He was in a great mood.  His body was feeling good; the pace to his walk was steady as a heartbeat.  He would sometimes count in his head as he strode.  He would like to put silly noises or words in his mind between the beats of the walk.  He generally looked down as he walked, just a few feet in front of him.  He brushed through the wet bushes that were a short cut to lead to the underpass.  It was still lit up.  He took a deep breath.  He never liked walking through the underpass since one of his mates was beaten up in one a month ago.  This time of morning would not be a problem.  He was on time this morning, so no mad rushing to catch the bus.  He had a choice of walking up the path and around to the bus stop or just climbing straight up the steep concrete leading up to the road.  He did the latter for no particular reason.  As he got to the top, his heart had started pumping, and he looked across the road to the bus stop.  Same old faces.  As he walked across to the group, he made eye contact with this lad of a similar age.  

"Yip?" said Ben.

The slightest of a nod of the head from the lad.  

This group of people always looked the same.  Same clothes, faces, bags, and they always just stood there in complete silence.  Ben had a particular place he liked to wait, just behind the crowd.  He preferred to watch everyone rather than be watched.

Bang on time, the bus pulled up.  As ever, it was heaving with students going to college.  Ben opened his bus ticket wallet for the bus driver.  He liked this driver.  She would normally say something to him.  She smiled at Ben, looked at his ticket and said "Good boy".  She was an old lady of about 50, well maybe not 50 but older than his Mum.  She always looked smart.  The sleeves of her blue uniform shirt were creased, it always looked really clean.  Her hair was tied up neatly, and although she had makeup, she didn't go overboard with it but looked nice.  She just looked nice to Ben.  He could see the pores of her skin, she always looked clean.  She had the first signs of a wrinkle here and there near her eyes and mouth, but it suited her.  She seemed comfortable in her skin to Ben.

From this stop, all the group would find a seat, which was lucky.  Just a few stops further on, and those passengers always had to stand for the half-hour journey.  It always struck Ben how lucky he was regarding that point.  Surely, those other passengers who had to stand every day, should get a cheaper ticket?  He doubted that very much.

He found a seat next to another student.  Everyone, without exception was staring at their phone with earphones in.  The lights were on in the bus, but the glare of the phones still could be seen on their faces.  They looked like robots.

Ben still had his ticket wallet open and put his thumb over the passport photos of his Mum and Dad and rubbed it.  He missed his Dad terribly.  They split up over a year ago.  The saddest day of his life; seeing his Dad close that front door behind him.  He doesn't know why they split up.  

As he sat on this bumpy bus, with the smell of damp in the air, misted up windows and other than the cranky noises of the bus, complete silence, he thought of his parents.

He felt a mixture of sadness, shame, disappointment, and a general sense of loss of what could have been.  He recalled when they used to drive out to the beach in the summer time.  His Dad always used to drive, and from the back seat, he could see how his Dad used to look at his Mum when they talked.  His Mum had a way of turning her head downwards while slowly closing her eyes and smiling.  She always looked smitten.  She looked at his Dad with very happy eyes. Ben noticed this, and it made him feel calm.

He would love to see them both together again.  It wasn't going to happen; he didn't know why.  There were lots of things about relationships that he found confusing.  There seemed to him to be a big difference between how people interacted in body language compared to what they say.  It was an odd thing that he was aware of but did not understand.  Perhaps things would become more apparent as he got passed 16.

As he looked at his Dad's photo, he just saw a man who was missing out.  Mum's love was so great towards his Dad that there was no way that a person could stop receiving that, and not be affected.  He just felt so sad for his Dad, being lonely.  He used to wonder how he survived because he never made any meals at home.

Thinking of this, Ben noticed his tummy rumble.  He had looked in the bread bin at home, but it was empty.  He'd left home on an empty stomach again.  It was ok, though.  He knows Mum doesn't have loads of money for them both.

His thoughts wandered to his job at the weekend at the paper factory.  This was Ben's sole form of income.  He was trying to save £253 to buy his Mum a necklace for her birthday.  It was going to be tight.  He remembers how his Mum used to look at his Dad when he gave her jewellery for birthdays and Christmas, and he wanted to see her face like that again.  He works 8am - 4pm at this factory that produces small paper bags; thousands, possibly millions of them.  His Dad had got him the job as the owner, Mr Davies, knows his Dad.  He gets £80 cash when he leaves on the Sunday afternoon; £40 a day.  It's hard work, but Ben likes the sense of worth for doing the work.  Mr Davies often tells him that he is doing a good job.  The necklace used to cost £230 up until just over two weeks ago.  Ben went to check on it as he does from time to time, and noticed they had raised the price by £23 - so he didn't get a cheeseburger that day to try and make up for it.  

Mr Davies has told Ben that when he gets his driving licence, he can start delivering the bags too, and that can increase his wages slightly.  He looks forward to that day.

The bus was filling up.  Passengers standing near to Ben had wet coats.  He looked down at the floor, and there were drops of water collecting on the grey surface.  It was pretty chaotic when he looked around:  umbrellas, wet hands, hoods, glasses with raindrops on them, and the condensation was thick now on the inside of the windows.  

He was looking forward to getting to college.  He loved his plumbing course.  There was a girl in his group who he really liked but couldn't say anything to her.  He would love to talk to someone about her, but he just couldn't.  He was bursting with thoughts about her that he would like to tell someone. 

Sometimes, if he was struggling with a task in the college, and she had already done it, she would come over and help him.  When she looked Ben in the eyes, even if it were just for the briefest moment, his heart would explode.  She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.  Her eyes would look at him, and for that moment, he thought he was the luckiest person in the college because, for that second, he had her attention.  So he liked college. 

As he still rubbed his wallet with his thumb, he was staring, absent-mindedly at the passengers head in front of him, and smiling as he thought of Amy.  He knew her name from the register.  He thought she was brave because she was the only girl on the course.  But she was clever; she could do most jobs before anyone else.  When it came to working things out with maths, she had this magical ability to get the answers quickly.  The tutors make fun of the lads as she is always first to answer.  

He had a flashback of his Mum's face on the beach journey again.  In his mind, there was bright sunlight as he pictured her head, turning towards his Dad driving the car.  

His Dad used to get weekly magazines delivered, and Ben liked to flick through to the Arts Review section.  Sometimes, there would be a portrait which Ben would stare at for ages.  He would run his fingertip over the paper image of the painting, almost like he was trying to feel the face.  There was something about faces that Ben liked to pay attention to.  In his mind, it was possible to 'see' a great deal from a facial expression.  But the texture of the face, the skin, the colour, wrinkles, all of these features he would normally notice.  He misses not seeing his Dads magazines, he likes to see portraits but doesn't know how to see them anymore.   The magazine paper had a gloss to it that Ben doesn't see at the weekends in the factory.  There must be different grades of quality he imagined.  His Dad's magazines could show an image of a portrait, and it would draw Ben to the paper.  He hoped that one day, he might be able to get those magazines.

The home run for the bus journey.  

This was when passengers started to wake up a bit.  Another couple of minutes and he would be outside the college.  He looked down at his right trainer - sock not wet yet.  He folded his bus ticket wallet and placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket.  It was still raining outside.  He never minded the rain.  As he looked around him, it was almost like the people were freeing themselves from a clear plastic wrapping that had held them captive for the bus journey.  

He was looking forward to his day, but he wasn't so keen on this bus journey, but one day, he might be able to drive to college.

Effort and outcomes

You would like to think that when you go for your Part 3 test (or Standards Check once you have qualified), that the pupil you take with you will be focussed, high in energy, and putting in maximum effort.  Once again, this is where these DVSA tests differ with reality.  

Effort levels can vary enormously between pupils in daily driving instruction.  It is a subjective measure, so it can be hard to identify and quantify.

A pupil can be tired or lacking in motivation; disinterested, they could be thinking they are a complete failure.  There are many potential reasons why effort levels are low.

On normal 'pay as you go' driving lessons, I dare say that if an instructor detects a lack of effort, the session is a write off in terms of making progress in learning.  A waste of time and money for the pupil?  You could say that; if a pupil isn't learning or gaining positive experience.

In my driving school franchise, we do pay attention to this subject.  It is a necessary skill because younger pupils might not have the life experience to recognise that reduced effort levels in a learning situation do affect achievements in fixed hour scenarios.  

With pay as you go, if a lesson goes begging, the pupil books up another, there is no particular time pressure.  With fixed-hour contracts, pupils do need to know if their effort levels will affect outcomes.  

I spotted this with one pupil and enquired as to the reason for the reduced effort, and I received the response of: "Apathy".  Which is fine, of course, but as long as the pupil realises, it will very likely have an impact on outcomes.

Think beyond the scope of the Part 3

This blog follows on from the blog yesterday that talked about the qualification process.  I've always thought that there are so many more skills needed as a driving instructor that may not have to be utilised on your Part 3 test (depends on the pupil you take).

Giving feedback in a manner that encourages your pupil to persevere still, would be one example.  Pupils will respond differently to your feedback, sometimes very emotionally.  This MAY NOT crop up on a Part 3.

How well you can adapt when your pupil 'just doesn't get it'.  Our role is to facilitate learning; well that can at times, require an armoury of techniques to help your pupil.  This MAY NOT crop up on a Part 3.

Relationship management in the long-term.  We sometimes work with pupils for quite some time, and the working relationship requires nurturing to maintain respect, dignity, progress, professionalism.  This will include handling the motivation and resilience levels of the pupil.  This WILL NOT crop up on a Part 3.

Pupil retention.  Pupils observe our behaviours all the time.  If a driving instructor does not take care of the individual needs of a range of pupils, there is every risk that some will leave.  This MAY NOT crop up on a Part 3.

There is an unpredictability when working with pupils due to human behaviour.  They can and will do actions, or think things, which are extremely hard to anticipate.  Our role is to maintain safety, and keep the learning environment constructive should these incidents crop up.  This MAY NOT crop up on a Part 3.

I won't labour the point.  Try not to get too bogged down in the qualification process.  In much the same way that our pupils can become quite 'blinded' with the thought of a driving test, likewise, as a PDI, you will do well to develop skills that assist pupils rather than pass Part 3 tests. 

New career prospects in 2020

I wish my readers a safe and peaceful 2020.  Now we have the pleasantries done, I find myself in a contemplative mood.  The turning of a new year tends to do this to us.  What can I hope to achieve this year?  Am I happy with my lot?  When I wake in the morning, do I get up with 'purpose'?

This kind of talk is not for all; I do realise that.  But it does no harm to review the way we live.  Having a meaningful existence is generally recognised as being more critical than accruing wealth.  It's so easy to get into a rut of trudging along with a job, primarily to afford a two-week escape in the summer.  Don't get me wrong, I love my holidays, but when fifty weeks of the year involve thought about two weeks of the year, it might be time to re-balance things slightly?

Re-balancing can crop up for lots of reasons.  Before training up as a driving instructor, I was working for a large organisation in London, as was my wife.  We had dependable incomes, but the pace of life that our work created was affecting the health of our young ones.  Carting your sprogs off to childcare for 8 hours a day is not conducive to their good mental or physical health.

It took me a year to train up.  I did want to do it quicker than that but my training provider, Red, could not accommodate more frequent training sessions in shorter periods.   If you get yourself organised, 6-9 months should not be unrealistic.  I always have to take care of writing like that, because it tends to suggest the desired outcome with no prospect of problems.  Learners sometimes come into learning to drive, with that same attitude, and it can be tricky.  The DVSA research says that 40-50 hours training with an ADI and 20 hours training with friends and family are, on average, what is required to pass the driving test.  I reckon 6-9 months is reasonable, perhaps even quicker if you are not also working a full-time job.  You can train at a pace that fits your schedule.

The technical driving side of things often involves ironing out bad habits. However, it is an opportunity for you to observe how I would train you - some of the techniques used; you will be able to use that experience when you come on to training pupils how to drive.

Then there are the instructional aspects of the qualification process where you get to practice on real BIG TOM pupils.  Your training works on a 1:1 basis, and you can choose between in-car training and online training, which is a lot cheaper.  

You only pay for the training that you need; this is a crucial point to make as it can save a lot of time and money.  You are being trained on an hourly rate, rather than paying a training provider for a set number of hours training, e.g. 40 hours.

Your training programme is tracked, monitored and reviewed to check if you are on target for your goals.  The latest DVSA publications, including standards, are used in the training process. 

Food for thought.

If you have any questions, call me, Tom Ingram (franchise owner) direct on 0775 607 1464.

The unspoken truth

Right, so my plan is the following:

I will completely under-estimate the task in hand of learning to drive.

It doesn't interest me at all, about what I need to cover.  I just want to do the absolute minimum that will get me passing the driving test.

I am going to assume that I am more than capable of passing the test, with no hiccups, no problems; in fact, I will sail through.

I don't intend to follow your advice about preparing for the lesson.  In fact, I don't even intend to listen to your feedback in the car, because, as I say, this is going to be easy.  Anything you say, will be just being picky and I won't hear it.

My Dad says that he passed his test after 6 lessons.  I'm not thinking I will need any more than that myself.

It is a forgone conclusion that after the number of hours that I, not you, but I specify, I will be ready to take a driving test.

If I fail the test, do you guarantee to me that I will pass? 

There is no connection in my mind at all about my driving ability and going to take the driving test.  The two are not linked, at all.

I'm a bit of a nervous driver, I get anxious, but I can drive.  I can drive.  I can drive.  It's just that I get a bit nervous sometimes, and it affects my driving.  So if anything does go wrong, I have warned you.  Don't blame me.

I do not intend to pay any attention at all about how I like to learn.  It is a waste of time.  No matter what happens, I'm going to do just fine, so I don't need to even think about how I learn things.

I'm not really confident at manoeuvres.  I can drive.  I can drive.  It's just that I get mixed up with the steering sometimes, and I don't know where the car is.  But I can drive.

When we are in the car, don't waste my time with any long talks.  I find talking really boring on driving lessons.  I just want to drive, that's all.

I don't like big roundabouts, they just scare me.  No big roundabouts, all those lorries and the speed, no.  I can't do that.

If I make any mistakes, don't blame me, you're the instructor. It's your job to teach me.

Don't ask me difficult questions, I just won't answer them. 

I do expect to pass the test the first time because I can drive even now. In fact, can you tell me now, when my driving test is.  I need to have that booked in now, because it will mean that I'm going to do the test no matter how my manoeuvres  or roundabouts or anxieties go.  It's kind of like guaranteed no matter how well I can drive that I go to test.  

I do get to use your car on the test, don't I?  That is important to me, because I don't want to wreck my car.

You do book my test up for me don't you?  I need to know that, because that way, I'm not in any way responsible for anything on the driving test.

The sooner I can have my test, the better, because I really need my licence.

If I keep making mistakes, like kerbing your wheels when we pull over, I will not be happy if that keeps going on and on.  I will very quickly go and find a better driving instructor if that happens.

I warn you now, I get bored really easy.  Don't bore me by doing really easy stuff again and again.  I don't care how well I do it, once I've done it, I expect you to move me on.  I get bored, really easy, and I will yawn if you are boring me.

I do expect to cancel lessons when something more important crops up like I'm playing xbox, or something like that.  I won't give you any notice.  If you don't like that, I'll just go to a different driving instructor.

I get my lefts and rights mixed up.  It's perfectly alright.  All my friends do it as well.  It won't make any difference at all.

Don't ever cancel a lesson of mine.  I want to get my licence really quickly, if you cancel, I will go elsewhere.

Please don't ask me any questions in the car.  I find questions really boring, all I want to do is drive.

When I'm driving, don't talk to me about the Highway Code or any of that rubbish, I've done the theory - it's finished.

By the way, don't waste my time with this setting the car up stuff, it's a waste of time because it will only be me driving my car.  I'm not bothered if everything is not set up properly, it will be in my car.

What is your pass rate?  Do you guarantee a pass?

When we have done a lesson, don't bore me with a re-cap, I'm not bothered about that.  I would prefer to use that time driving, rather than talking at the end.

Don't bother teaching me anything that is not in the test.  It's just wasting my time and you are thieving me out of money.

I probably will do just over the speed limit when I drive.  It's not illegal, because the car speedo is slightly out.

Don't brake for me and definitely don't touch the steering wheel - I hate that. 

I won't be able to pay for every lesson on the day, but will pay you when I can.

I warn you now, I get really, really annoyed if other drivers don't signal.

I'm in a race to pass with my mates.  I do expect to win that race.





...............by the way, I do not intend to tell you ANY of the above.

String in the tail

"It's just the sort of thing he does Mum."
"Well that's just not good enough Stacey, he needs to start showing a bit of responsibility...at his age."
Stacey's attempt to defend her boyfriend Ian was falling on deaf ears.   Ian was only 19 but her Mum had high expectations of everyone.  
"Where are you now love?"
"I'm still at the hospital Mum!"
"Which one, not the 'omerton?"
"Where else do you think we're gonna go Mum?  Bloody 'ighgate?"
"There's no need to use that tone with me young lady, you're not too old for your father to give you a smack on the arse."
"Mum, I've got me boyfriend with a 5-inch metal spike up his arse, and you're talking to me about me Dad smacking my arse.  Give it a rest Mum, I just don't need it right now.  If only I still smoked, I could have something to do, God knows why I packed it in."  She started to bite her fingernails.

Stacey was pacing up and down the A&E entrance on a damp, Monday afternoon.  She had to call in sick at the Sainsburys in Dalston, a stone's throw away from her Mum's home in Ridley Road.  She did share her Mum's opinion about the hospital, though.  That was often the way with Mum she thought, it wasn't what she said, so much as how she said it.  Her sister Madge had a rough time at the Homerton, giving birth to her boy Sammy.  One of the family jokes is how Madge's back was used in training practice for a new medical student to prep for the caesarian like a darts board.  Often when Madge was speaking the family would agree with her in chorus "oche Madge."

"Fuck knows how long," Stacey was now chatting on the phone to her best friend Sharon, who also worked on the tills at Sainsburys. "Your guess is as good as mine.  How longs a piece of rope?"
"Sting Strace, I mean, string Stace."
"You alright Shaz, you been on the pop?"
"Eh?  Bit early for that Stace, it's only half twelve, but if you are going to insist?"
"Eh?  You daft mare, I can't leave my Ian here laying in bed with a spike up his arse."
"Why not?  He ain't going anywhere is he?"
"I can't handle this right now.  I do feel like I could do with a drink, to be honest."
"Shall we go and see the duke at the church?"

Within the hour, the two girls were sat in their favourite pub, The Duke of Wellington, opposite the catholic church on Balls Pond Road.

Stacey patiently sat while Sharon got their drinks.  She left her mobile face down on the table, she didn't want to see any messages.  They had a little rule between the two of them, lager and lime up to 4 pm, Prosecco up to 8 pm and anything goes after 8.  In that way, they felt they were properly managing their alcoholic intake.  

"Thanks hun," Sharon passed Stacey her drink.  
"Fucker," Sharon whispered loudly to Stacey.
"Who?! Charlie behind the bar?!"
"No, that weasle eyed fucker over there," she looked directly at Stacey while slowly lowering herself to the seat.  "Don't look now, but by the pool table."

Stacey instantly looked towards the pool table where there he was.  Bold as brass, smiling at Stacey.  Sean, 'the sheep shagger' as he was known.  The rumours go that he was once seen trying to put his dick in the charity bottle that sits on the bar.  A great loss to the Salvation Army, as no-one but no-one has gone anywhere near it since.  If a passing visitor to the pub is seen putting change in the bottle, the staff ring the bell and everyone shouts out: "Sheep shagger strikes again!"

"So come on then babes, tell me how it happened."
Sharon got herself settled down, clicked the selfie phone camera on her mobile and started to check her eyes and lips for smudges.
"Well you wouldn't believe it," Stacey started.  "You know my Ian is learning to drive?"
"Uh huh." 
"So this morning, it was pissing down and we were walking to the cafe for breakfast.  I didn't fancy much but Ian was starving as he had a rough kebab last night and was sick."
"Was he?!  Which one?"
"Well that's the thing, he just uberred it didn't he, silly twat.  I've been telling him to watch it.  Have you seen the insta of the kebab bloke with his hands down his trousers, playing with his 'how's your father' while working?"
"No!"
"Fucking yes Shaz."
"No!  That can't be true."
"You wanna see it Shaz.  I can't show you now, if I look at my phone I'm just going to see shit from Ian to put me in a guilt trip."

The girls looked at each other and laughed while saying: "Eeeeeewwwwww" in harmony.  

Sharon looked over to Sean who was still staring at the girls with a smile on his face, she shouted "Fuck off!"
Charlie behind the bar said, "Excuse me, ladies, this is a respectable pub if you don't mind."
"What, with that perv standing over there," Stacey shouted back.  "I don't think so Charlie boy.  The only respectable thing you could do in this pub is ban the dirty bastard."

The girls laughed out loud, clinking their drink glasses together.  Sean appeared to be totally unphased by being the source of the jokes.

"So we're walking to the cafe, the one near his, near the launderette."  Ian lived near Canonbury Station, off Grosvenor Avenue.  He likes to refer to his home as being in Canonbury, especially when he meets new people - to try to impress them.

"Did I mention the rain?  It was pissing it down Shaz."
"With you so far."
"Now his driving instructor is a bit weird..."
"They often are."
"...I know, but this one Ian's got keeps talking about danger."
"Well that is a bit weird."
"I'm just weighing up whether I should have another or not," Stacey flashes her near-empty half-pint glass towards Sharon.
"Go on, why would you not?"
"I can't be pissed in charge of a patient can I?"
"What do you mean?  Ian?"
"Well yea, it wouldn't do me turning up to the hospital out of my head."
"Another won't do any harm though," Sharon turned to Charlie and raised her hand.  "Yes please Charlie, if you're not run off your feet?"
Charlie who had been stood staring at the football, turned to the girls, "Same again?"
"You know us too well," Stacey opened her purse and took out a £10 note, ready for Charlie when he came over with the drinks.

"Anyway, so Ian's been getting the hump with this examiner or instructor guy, something to do with speeding and amber lights, I don't know, seems a lot of fuss about nothing.  And he keeps talking to Ian about risk.... thank you my lovely.  I would say keep the change Charlie but I'm gonna need it at the hospital later.  Thieving bastards charge a fortune for parking."
"Stacey, what has this got to do with Ian being in hospital," Sharon was beginning to get bored with the story.
"I know, I know.  So there we are walking down the road this morning.  Ian says to me that he has been asked by this guy to start thinking about consequences to dangerous situations."
"Bloody hell, is this a driving lesson or Jeremy bloody Kyle?"

They clink their filled glasses together, and both say "Love you" in unison.

"I know Shaz, so outside the cafe, they have this metal fence.  With spikes."
"No..."
"Oh yes.  What does he do?  He says to me, 'Who cares about consequences?'  With that, he goes to jump straight over the fence into the cafe, but his hand slips on the fence and ...."
They both look at each other with screwed up faces, ".... the rest is history Shaz."
"But how did he end up with the spike up his arse?"
"Blimey Shaz, he tried to jump over the spikes. And, before you know it..."
At this very moment, Stacey's phone pings with a message.  She jumps out of her skin.  They both laugh.

As Stacey goes to pick up her phone, Sharon says "What, he lands on the spike?"
"Uh huh"
"In front of everyone in the cafe?"
"You bet, it will be going viral as we speak Shaz."

The message read: 'Can you please bring me grapes?'
Stacey taps into her phone, 'Why?'
'Cos I've been told I can't eat any solids for four weeks'

Stacey relays this to Sharon, and they both start screaming with laughter.  
Sharon takes a sip of her drink, "Bet his instructor will be regretting bringing the subject up now, no more lessons for Ian."
"You got it babes."