Licensing de Luxe

So, like it or not, it was off to St James where, bizarrely, there were only two other people looking a mite lost. It seemed unnaturally quiet, that business was very slow that morning. I presented my licence, got the renewal form and form for the medical,

Incidentally why, I wonder, do the traffic authorities here think only the over 60s have health problems? In Colombia you got your eyesight tested every time you renewed your licence, which I reckon a most sensible precaution because from, say 18 or whenever you first get a driving licence to 60, surely it’s possible for eyesight to deteriorate — I know mine did so that every page of my Colombian driving licence was stamped with “No se puede manejar sin anteojos” “Not allowed to drive without glasses”, when I renewed my licence the day after a particularly enjoyable cocktail fiesta. Where was I? Oh yes, eyesight has been known to deteriorate between 20 and 50, so why doesn’t licensing check eyesight every three years?

But, back to St James on Tuesday, May 3 … the reason why there were so few people in Licensing that morning was not far to seek. The system was down so it was Wrightson Road or come back tomorrow. I opted for tomorrow and took myself off to the doctor for the medical.

Wednesday May 4 at about 8.50 am I called St James; a very polite gentleman assured me the system was up and running. So I set off for St James armed with a good book to pass the time while I waited my call for the photograph.

That morning there was the usual crowd in the Licensing Office, however, I only had to wait two-three minutes in the queue to hand in my licence and my renewal and medical forms before heading for the waiting room. Some of those waiting preferred to stand, but not me.

Spotting three or four empty seats I made my way to the most comfortable (one without torn padding) and settled down to read while one set of names were called out, more people arrived to fill the empty spaces and — I’d only read three pages when a next set of names were called out, one of them Hilton. But I was so sure it couldn’t be me, I ignored it until a gentleman sitting just in front of me turned to say, “That’s you”.

I thanked him and marvelling while feeling slightly guilty since I knew many people were there before me I went to have my photograph taken. That done, I was about to go to the outer office to wait for the photo to be processed, my licence laminated and my name called— but no. I was asked to take a seat (which I did, it was unfortunate that the metal seat, not being padded, was icy cold, but a seat is a seat when one is over 60 and I was grateful).

A minute, although it might have been two, later I heard my name, my licence was handed to me, and I was free to go. Which I did; I went straight home to Cascade and walked into my house at 9. 55 am give or take a minute or two.

My thanks, my profound thanks to the public servants in the St James Licensing Office for their courtesy and care for a senior citizen on a first class, de luxe experience of renewing my driving licence in St James.