I’m sorry to tell you this, but you are either a complete
idiot, or a total liar.
I admit it, I know absolutely nothing about North
Dublin. I think you’ll find that most
people either know the North or the South side.
I like to think I know the south side, but I don’t really. I can find my way around the South
Circular Road area, but that’s probably because I lived there for five years.
One way or the other, I refuse to be judged on my hopeless
geography. I’ve spent a number of years
making my peace with it, and I’ve decided it’s fine not to know how to get to
Cabra. Or Cork.
And that’s where you come in. Do we have a Trade Descriptions Act in
Ireland? I was told that investing money
that could have been spent on wine or some expensive skin care product
that I’d never use (because I’m saving it for special occasions) on a Sat Nav
would put a stop to all the nonsense.
I could stop going around and around roundabouts hoping a
signpost would spring up while I’m on my way.
And I could also stop leaving the house an hour and a half
before I need to, because I wouldn’t spend any time pulling over and asking
random strangers for directions when I'm sixty miles from where I need to
be.
It was bad enough the time that I was in Kerry with my
mother, and rather than bring us to Killarney, where we specifically asked you
to take us, you insisted that going up a mountain and apparently through a
private farmyard was the way to go.
I used to read those
newspaper articles about people who follow their sat nav blindly and drive into
the sea and think they weren’t fit to be on the road. These days, I find that before I obey your
instruction to take a turn, I stop to peer down the new road in case there’s a
river or a giant hole where the road should be.
You had to make a show of me, of course. It’s always when there’s somebody watching,
isn’t it?
We wanted to go from Dublin city centre to a village on the northside. We weren’t just going for a spin, we had
actual business there and were on a strict time restraint.
When we needed to find the R107, why did you keep telling me
to turn for the N11? And of course Anne,
my friendly passenger, who was frankly a lot more help than you, had to turn on the sat
nav on her mobile. She more or less knew
the way anyway. I was lost almost as
soon as we left the car park.
You embarrassed me there, you evil witch. And if Anne hadn’t been there I’d still be
driving around, presumably admiring the sights of Newtownmountkennedy or some
such place.
Pull yourself together.
This is getting beyond a joke.
Or I’ll throw you out the car window and just bring Anne
with me everywhere I need to go.
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