Here's the only picture taken this weekend, which shows a bus that isn't submerged to its waist in filthy water.

It's noteworthy for another reason, too. I appear to be in the driver's seat. Yes, hours before much of Oxfordshire became submerged in spewed Cherwell, it was the venue for my very first driving lesson in a bus.

Having been involved with buses since the age of zero, it won't surprise you to learn I've done the odd bit of shunting before. On my fourth birthday, I was allowed to 'drive' a Routemaster on the test track at London Transport's old training centre in Chiswick, albeit on the lap of an instructor who could actually reach the pedals.

To drive one for real - at least with the blessing of the law and your insurance company - you need to be 25. So yesterday was my first taste of proper bus driving; and very flavoursome it was too.

As you'll see, I'm far too small to look convincing as the driver of an 8 ton, 72-seat, 14 foot high beast; indeed, with 30 feet of bus trailing behind me, I felt no more qualified for the job than I did at the age of four. This time, though, there was no lap to sit on.

My instructors - co-owners Steve, Ken and Charles - were alarmingly optimistic about my maiden voyage, shoeing me into the cab at a well chosen industrial estate in Thame. Imagine the look on the face of an already terrified first time driver trying their hand at piloting a red Vauxhall Astra around the same industrial estate, who suddenly happened upon us coming round the next bend in our red machine. They didn't stay long.

Neither did we, it's true to say. With Ken and Charles observing from outside, and Steve alongside me in the cab, several laps of the yard were accomplished, including a tricky reverse manoeuvre between (or, in reality, over) two kerbs. With such rules as "aim for the broadcasters, then steer" under my belt, the most memorable phrase came three laps later: it went something like "fancy taking us back to Long Crendon?"...

I shan't forget the moment when, having barely taken in that I was about to drive a Routemaster on the road, I was hearing the familiar "ding ding" of the bell - this time at the other end of the bus, as a signal for me.
It's a funny thing when some previously forbidden fruit suddenly becomes a possibility.

With supervision aplenty, I negotiated T-junctions, left turns, right turns, roundabouts... all with a basic but entirely new observation at the front of my mind. Buses are quite big.

3 miles later, we reached Long Crendon unscathed, and against my own belief that it was probably all a dream, the photograph above proves it. All agreed it was "a very smooth journey", and predicted I'd soon be ready for a test.

21 years later, Chiswick may earn its latest graduate...