Someone asked me today if these stories are all true. I’m not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed to say that they are. And that all of them so far have happened in the last few months. This one is a bit older but, well, it tends to make people smile so I thought I might as well add it.
For the record, I can read a map. I just have issues translating what is on the map to what is in front of me and therefore the direction I need to go in. This is one of the reasons why, when I cycle alone, I tend to go in small circles (I have actually managed to get lost 3 miles from my house before now). So you see, I can get lost at the drop of a hat, but the best example of this is when, soon after passing my driving test, I drove from college in Somerset to home in Kent.
‘A358, M3, M25’ Dad had informed me. ‘You can’t get lost’
I was so organised. I went to the library, photocopied a map, highlighted the A358 and set off.
After a few hours I got out at a petrol station as I was pretty sure I should have reached the M3.
Me: ‘Could you tell me where the M3 is hiding please? Have I missed it?’
Farmer Man: (In thick West country accent) ‘Oooh arrr. You be in Cornwall you be.’ (Sorry – I’m crap at accents so that could be more Yorkshire than Cornwall, I have no idea.)
Anyway, it turned out I had driven on the right road. However, had I turned the page I would have realised that I had driven for two hours on the right road…in the wrong direction.
It’s probably best not to get in a car with me. You have been warned…:o)