A Fond Farewell

One of the many challenges in moving house is to remember to notify certain people and organisations that you have indeed relocated. 

They need to know where to send the cheques, the demands for money, the snotty letters and threats of discumnocculation if you don't tell them where you now reside.

The collage is a set of sectional pictures of my driving license. 

Issued on 1st September 1978, it has been around the block a bit, having travelled with me to Majorca thrice, France twice thrice, Yugoslavia as was, Crete, Cyprus, Kefalonia four times, Tenerife (yuk!) and all four corners of the UK.

On one trip to Spain I forgot the license and drove a borrowed Fiat Panda for a week, illegally. That's one reason why I didn't complain about the drive shaft dropping off in the middle of Torrevieja, with my wife, two kids and Nanny Jean all crammed in the back.

Happy days.

So it's farewell to the old paper license, and wait for the fancy new photo card with my 'wanted dead or alive' photo attached.

Modern technology can be useful, but that cellotape is over 40 years old. I am quite attached to it.

Which is more than can be said for the remains of the old license. 

Goodbye old friend, I will miss you.