Don’t be so sensible said the insurance broker!

Double Vision with Charlie Adley

Living in the West of Ireland, I find myself wearing a smile on the most unlikely of occasions. Recently I dealt with bureaucracy, in the shape of both the National Driver Licence Service and the car insurance industry.

Chuckling after each encounter, I felt very aware that this is the only country I’ve lived in where you end up happy, even when things go wrong.

Needing a new driver’s licence, I went online and booked an appointment for 10.30am on a Friday at the NDLS office in Ballybane.

‘Aha!’ I thought to myself smugly. ‘I’ve booked it late enough to be on the safe side of the traffic, but I’ve lived here long enough now to know how it works. Galway doesn’t like early mornings, so I’ll go down there at 9.30 and it’ll be empty.’

But no, this Englishman got it wrong again. When asked, I describe myself as a Jewish Atheist-Pantheist mutant, yet I was raised and socialised in the predominantly Protestant society of ’60s and ’70s England.

When we English gather in Ireland, we have been known to joke about Irish punctuality and efficiency, yet still we choose to live here, because your way is better for the soul.

Arriving at the NDLS at 9.30am, I climb the stairs to find a surprising amount of people already sitting in the waiting room. There are two types: walk-ins, and those who have made online bookings. The walk-ins are moving through fast, while online bookers have to wait until the appointed time.

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

Got it wrong again. There I was thinking I’d been all thinking like a local type of thing, when in fact I’d been completely entrenched in my English upbringing. Mister Free’n’Easy thought he was pretty bloomin’ Irish arriving earlier than his online booking, taking a chance like, ‘cos that’s what they do, isn’t it, like?

No. What Galwegians do is drop in and get seen an hour before this über-efficient maker of online bookings.

An hour to kill is not the worst challenge in life. Right on time, I’m called to a booth and spend a delightful 10 minutes sitting the other side of thick glass to friendly woman who has to deal one-to-one with the public all day, every day.

Somehow she manages to chat easily, smiles and when I ask if I still have my bike license she teases me: “Yes, up to 125cc.”

To read Charlie’s column in full, please see this week’s Galway City Tribune.