Driving round the Bend

Here’s another tip for the book: Take a loo trip before a car journey into depths of the unknown. 

This morning (unfortunately not courteous enough to warrant being called Clooney right now) handed me a sheaf of papers with directions, crossed out and bad scribbles marking an alternate route. Somehow, by some Act of God, I was supposed to take Juliette and Margot to a tennis tournament. 

After finally getting them in the car this evening, I typed in the address for the destination, which William instructed me to do (but to ignore the first set of directions). He also added that Juliette and Margot knew the route. So what the hell were we doing in Paris Centre (YESTHAT’SRIGHT: THE-CENTRE-OF-PARIS) an hour later since leaving, and utterly and hopelessly LOST? I have no idea, except that by then my bum muscles had gone numb from being tense from risking my life!! Driving on the periphique in pitch black for the first time is not my idea of fun. 

One minute the GPS was saying we were 9km from the destination, and then it sprang up to 14km. The whole journey I listened to Juliette's directions, which seemed to be the opposite of what the GPS was telling us. Margot sat in the back with her iPod on full volume. Still lost, close collisions, and still nowhere near. 

I saw a sign at one point to Versailles, and could have sworn that a huge green-roofed diner we passed was the same one I passed coming back from Calais. Seriously, had I seen a sign for ‘Calais’, ‘Dunkerque’ or ‘Channel Tunnel’, I’d have taken it regardless. Juliette could have been beating me with her Tennis racket and I still would have made a bee-line for the Channel crossing; white knuckles clenched round the steering wheel and a very determined look on my face. I’m sure Margot wouldn’t have noticed a thing – still sitting in the back with her music. 

Eventually the Sat-Nav lady piped up – funny how they only come in use when you’ve already worked out the route – and we’d finally managed to turn round and head back on the periphique and in the direction of the tennis venue. 

Still in amazement at how we finally got to the place... Although I feel like I’ve been blindfolded, spun round a hundred times and then told to find my way back home!

I miss getting emails and notifications on my BlackBerry. I miss my friends, I miss the way English toilet bleach actually cleans the toilet bowls. I miss the times I was able to walk round with my laptop without it being chained to a boxy external screen. 

So I’m sitting in the car waiting for the girls to finish their tournaments. They said they could be 20 minutes or 3 hours. Secretly, I hope they lose. Winning only means more car journeys and getting lost on the way to the consequent tournaments. Margot generously parted her head from her iPod headphones, and the first song on shuffle? Misery, by Maroon 5. Thanks for that. Really needed that boost of confidence.

Two hours later, I’m still in the car and actually half way through a Diana Vickers’ song. WHAT is the world coming to? (And why does Matgot have this claw-wielding X-Factor reject on her iPod?)


FINALLY back home, and I shot upstairs like a mountain goat to shut out everything else. I’M about ready to beat William with a tennis racket! Tomorrow I’ve been informed (WOW – a whopping 14 hours notice!! – huge improvements!) the dog is going to the vets. I’m still confused as to who is taking the shit-bag, but I absolutely refuse to go. Tie me up and force me into a staring competition with Aiden Grimshaw, but there is NO WAY I am chauffeuring that flea-infestation around for the morning.