I’m having a hard time concentrating in the office today. I’ve got a lot of work to do, and it all involves rather a lot of thinking.

There’s four blokes with chainsaws outside chopping down the big beech tree in the garden. Unfortunately for the tree it had become dangerous and had to be removed. Unfortunately for me cutting down a tree of that size with four chainsaws is doing a good job of emulating the sound of a very long Motocross GP on the back lawn.

I was trying to drown it out with music, but with a choice between trying to work at a race track and trying to work at a rock concert I’m finding neither option very appealing.

They’re generating an impressive amount of wood from a single tree, but it’s taking four guys and a lot of machinery three days to fell it. I suddenly have a newfound respect for deforestation – it must take a lot of dedication to take out a whole forest. Sure, they don’t have to worry about damaging the rose beds in the middle of the Amazon, but it’s still an impressive feat.

Most people I know now hold driving licenses. You remember when you were sitting in the waiting room before your car test? With your green provisional driving license, and sweaty hands?

I just put myself through all of that again. Only this time I already had my full driving license on me… and I was holding a safety helmet in my sweaty hands.

Ah, the joys of motorcycling. Along with shooting fluffy animals, and drinking Scrumpy, it seems to be one of the things that people in the countryside seem to ‘just do’.

About a month ago I was toying with the idea of doing my bike license and I did my theory test ‘just in case’. On Friday morning last week I’d never so much as ridden a moped. By Friday afternoon I was out on the road on a 660cc Yamaha Motorbike (which I actually broke within 10 minutes; clutches, why do you hate me so?). That was my CBT signed and completed. Then we spent 6 hours on the road on Saturday, and 6 hours on the road on Sunday (by ‘road’ I mean getting cut up by traffic in Taunton town center). That was essentially the entire Direct Access course (two days!).

I had Monday and Tuesday off the road and working hard in the office.

… and then this afternoon I sat the category A motorcycle test, and passed! Eight minor faults out of a possibly 14, can’t really complain too much about that. By virtue of doing the test on a machine that was (well) over 46.6 BHP, and being over 21, I am now legally allowed to ride any motorcycle I so desire. Of any power. Without L plates, and with a pillion passenger if I want to Sweeeeeeeeeet.

Learning to ride was fun, though it does remind me why I avoid driving through busy city highstreets. I’m looking forward to getting a bike, and actually taking it out somewhere nice.

As far as getting a bike goes, the story gets better. My (now even more cool) cool Uncle Dave in North Wales has a Kawasaki GPZ550 (I think I got that right…) sitting in the garage which he’d like to see being used a bit more than it is. I’m going to look after it for him and oblige in making sure that it gets well exercised. Brilliant!

The real question is; does this now entitle me to grow an obscenely long goatee?