At the last count (she's stopped telling me now, I think), daughter No. 2 had failed five driving tests. Her mother failed one, but she did it in style, driving the wrong way round a roundabout.
I nicked the kerb with my wheel as I left the test centre for my first test, which is an instant fail apparently (although the examiner made me complete the test before telling me), and smoked both the cigars I had brought (for me and my instructor), on the long walk home. I was twice as nervous on my second test, and drove accordingly, but passed, much to my complete astonishment. I really enjoyed the solo drove to the tobacconist...