Ten weeks on.
The end of my formal tutorship.
Incidents, files, late nights, stress.
Everything building to a crescendo.
A whole bunch of signatures and cross-referencing of my portfolio.
Tutor: "Right, and now you're on independent."
Me: "Oh." [Pause] "I mean, wow! Brilliant... Thanks! But oh... Shit."
A few nights double-crewing with colleagues until I have my one-day driving course, and then I'm allowed out by myself. In a police car. To cause havoc on the streets.
Just me. In uniform. Alone. On the end of a radio.
That sound you hear is the wind whistling past; having been pushed of the ledge and expected to fly.
Better start flapping.