it's not me, it's the system

England is known for its beautiful countryside. The best way to experience it is apparently by walking miles in rural bliss. Thatched sheds and ancient hedgerows take on a different meaning when viewed in golden sunsets un-obscured by city smokes. Abandoned mills and the heather laden banks of country brooks are infused with a mysterious, wholesome joy . Dogs yelp gladly in the middle distance and cars on the motorway look tiny and inconsequential; you can't hear them.

Obviously, I wanted to do this country walk thing as the next step in my slow journey of cultural assimilation. A little research told me however, that the best walks don't start near rail stations; you need to drive to the starting points, and usually, pack a tent. All right, I know how to drive; done it for a couple of years in Gaborone, Botswana. Yet, I'm not legally allowed to drive in the UK. The two countries drive on the same side of the road, have the same speed limits (though in different units) and even have the same 'yield' sign; but the DVLA doesn't want to miss this opportunity to take all my money.

Fine, I'll take the test. Of course I can't get a test date until 4 months into the future. (god knows where I'll be then with my job situation and everything.) And anyway I need a theory test before the practical and before I can pay an instructor twice a week to teach me not how to drive, but how to pass the test. so I went to the library to get me a theory book. Course, I'm not a member, so I asked them to register me. How was I to know they needed my passport, an electric bill and my entire DNA sequence to give me a plastic library card, which doesn't even have my name or photo on it. I was only a little daunted however, because I decided to go home and register for my theory test. That's when I found you need to have a provisional licence before they even let you register. It took half an hour of Scrubs watching to convince me that it was still worth it, that I should book the provisional licence, and curse the stupid bureaucratic system later.

However, the website threatens to run all sorts of checks on you, so I'm a little uncertain about putting the address of our new place in, especially as we haven't signed the contract yet. and why haven't we signed it? Because the new agent needs our old agent to write us a reference. I talk myself into it after an hour, reason sensibly, it's probably a common situation, and so on.

I'm on the website, I have my passport number, I have my last 3 addresses at my fingertips - but the damn thing can't find the postcode to our new place.

I give up, my spirit is broken, I don't need to walk in the countryside. I'll go and gas myself instead.