Conspicuous

Gillian talks of being conspicuous. I understand, I understand: awkwardness exposed and magnified by my imagination. Misjudging a step down, turning one way when the person I'm with turns the other, my cardigan buttoned wrong - on raw days, I die a teeny tiny death of shame.

But here's conspicuous: being a learner bus driver, with a great big L on the front of the bus, turning a corner slowly, slowly, slowly, inching around, going wide and nudging a street sign on the corner; and then looking up to see a woman standing on the footpath, watching the progress.