The Long Road to Freedom
For Georgina and I, a long car journey can hold a considerable element of surprise. They say (women mostly) that men cannot do 2 or more things at the same time. Well, in my case, they are right. Yes, I can pat my head and rub my tummy at the same time, but I have yet to find a practical application for this. (If you have any ideas please let me know.) I cannot, however, drive a car and faultlessly navigate at the same time. Georgina likes bats (the flying rodent type), so being as blind as a bat generally works in my favour.
“Look at the deer in that field,” she says.
I visually scour the field. Nothing, apart from a large area of green, presumably grass.
“Over there!” I follow the direction of her finger. Still nothing.
It turns out to be not one deer but a whole herd.
“Munich is that way,” she says as we hurtle past the junction. I look at her hands to see if there is an indication whether she means left or right. I suggest she has “L” and “R” tattooed on the appropriate hands. She ignores me.
“I didn’t see a sign,” I protest.
“Why does that not surprise me, even though it was the size of a double-decker bus?” She can be very hurtful at times.
“Turn around and go back!” Her tone is unnecessarily imperious.
By now we are at least 3 miles past the turning.
“We’ll take the next right and link up.” I hate going back. It seems such a waste of time (and an
admission of a mistake).
“How will you know the way?”
“Just trust my sense of direction,” I assure her.
She makes no attempt to stifle an ironic and, I may say, a rather cruel snigger. It only serves to harden my resolve.
Two hours later, a city looms up ahead of us. “See, I said I’d get us to Munich,” I announce triumphantly.
“Then why does the sign say “Frankfurt”?”
“I didn’t see a sign,” I protest.
“Well, at least we can buy some sausages.”
Georgina has the gift of sarcasm. If she read the telephone directory she could make it sound sarcastic. It’s an endearing trait.
Our problem (the navigation one), is not made any easier by the fact that Georgina She can have the soundest and most refreshing sleep since Van Winkle hit the sack, but, once in a car, she has nodded off before it’s left the drive. It’s on a par with Pavlov’s dog...cannot keep awake in a car.
Five hundred miles later she will wake up.
“Where are we?”
“Just passed Nouvion on the Brussels road”, I reply confidently, though I have a sneaking suspicion that we are hurtling towards Paris.
She picks up the map. She and maps just don’t get on. They sulk, they hide things from each other, they do not communicate.
“Find where we are? “ I ask in all innocence.
She ignores me.
I must say, though, that Georgina’s skills are improving. Navigation is no longer a threat to our marriage. Driving to unfamiliar destinations is now a positive pleasure.
Back in the summer, Georgina and I were trailing my brother-in-law David’s car as he took us to see my sister Myra in Bordeaux. About 10 miles out we hit congestion. We sit and watch snails overtaking us. Suddenly, David shoots down a side street. Left, right, right, across the junction, left, around the roundabout.. A trail of breadcrumbs would not have taken us back home. We are awestruck at the extent of David’s local knowledge.
“It wasn’t me,” David later confessed. “It was Jane”.
David has a new friend? No. You’ve guessed it we are talking satnavs. Jane is one of the names of his satnavs voices. Ours are “Emily”, “Daniel” and an American voice that sounds remarkably like Drew. These little remarkable boxes are the greatest invention since the wheel, when man ventured beyond his village into the unknown thereby making the satnav invaluable. They are a little short of miraculous. “Emily” knows exactly where we are, even the name of the road. She can plan a route from home to Timbucktoo in a matter of seconds. It would take me a day and we’d still end up in Warsaw. She knows how far we are from the next junction and where the fuel, parking, shops etc are. She knows the instant I take the wrong turn and finds a solution without shouting at me. I suggest that the satnav will save many marriages and decrease much blood pressure.
I was a skeptic. Now I am a firm believer. After all, you wouldn’t go into a strange, dark house without a flash-light?
November 2nd, 2007 at 2:05 pm
this had me laughing out this had me laughing out loud – (sorry sally if you were trying to sleep!) i could just imagine it!
x x x
October 31st, 2007 at 4:22 pm
Well then Well then it obviously doesn’t look as stylish.
November 1st, 2007 at 2:20 am
It bears a certain It bears a certain resemblance, though. It looks slim and cool, but without your charisma.
October 31st, 2007 at 7:46 am
Great, I’ve been replaced by a satnav!!
October 31st, 2007 at 10:08 am
It has neither your charm It has neither your charm nor “joie de vivre”. Don’t worry, you’re safe. It could never replace you. One thing, though. It never wants to buy new clothes.