Everyone is good at something. Useless at many things (notably anything involving gardening tools or a washing machine), I do have one talent. While driving, I can glance at the road atlas open on my wife's lap, and with the speed of a cobra and the accuracy of a smart bomb my finger darts out and homes in on our exact position. It is debatable which causes more rows - this uncanny gift of mine which frequently elicits the plaintive moan "I might as well not be here", or her near-total inability to ascertain where we are until we're somewhere else.
I wonder how many other couples suffer from Unequal Navigation Ability Syndrome. It must turn many an annual holiday or weekend jaunt into a nightmare, particularly when the navigationally-challenged partner is also a non-driver:
"Shall I stop and show you where we are on the map?"
"No - if you'd just slow down a bit I could work out where we
are."
"I'm only doing 50."
"Anyway, you said we had to follow the signs for Berwick."
"No, I said ignore the signs for Berwick because that's in the wrong direction."
"Well, that's a fine way to get somewhere - just avoid all the places you don't want and you'll end up in the right one!"
"There's no need for sarcasm. I'll stop in this lay-by."
"If you stop this car I'm getting out and catching a bus."
If this sounds hideously familiar, don't despair. Assuming that you scorn new-fangled gimmicks like SatNav, all you need is a little practice in the art of map reading, and the right attitude. It's said by some (well, me anyway) that anyone can understand quantum physics if they try. It follows that getting yourself and your partner from Acle to Bootle via Cheadle (or the equivalent for whichever country you happen to be in) should be a doddle.
The first and golden rule is know where you're going. This may be blindingly obvious, but is easy to overlook - I once guided a friend to Stroud for a football match, only to be coldly informed that Stroud F.C.'s ground is in Nailsworth. Conclusive proof that it's best not to rely on telepathy.
Another point to remember is that route planning is the easy bit. Road atlases tend not to show traffic jams, abnormal loads, tractors or convoys of New Age Travellers. A good one (3 miles or less to the inch) will, however, show the extremely minor roads you can use to bypass virtually all such obstacles, and you'll hardly ever end up axle-deep in mud.
With regard to your road atlas, position it with your destination at the top if you find this helps. Relatively few of us are blessed with automatic orientation correctors in our cerebral matter. Of course, you'll have to practise reading upside down. The only alternative is to confine your travels to a northerly direction, which in the U.K. will eventually lead you to Dunnet Head. Still, what better place for a weekend break?
One thing is certain - when your newly acquired map reading skill is consummated by a punctual arrival, the feeling of satisfaction and achievement is well-nigh incomparable. Don't let it go to your head, however, and tell your host/landlady/receptionist etc how clever you've been, with a road-by-road account. It made a glorious Monty Python sketch, with Eric Idle droning on and on about how he had to wait half an hour to get on the M5 at Droitwich, and usually came round by the B3339, but is the quickest way I know to induce terminal, glazed-eyes boredom.
Excuse me now; I'm off to Dunnet Head to open my School of Navigation (reasonable rates - inverted reading our speciality). I shall be making my own way there.
