I have a very poor one - sense of direction I mean. It's apparently inherited and and it's in the genes. I've got the where am I - where did I leave that - do I turn left or right here gene in bucketloads. I lose my car in the carpark convinced that someone's nicked it, even go up to a car of the same make and colour and am surprised that the remote control doesn't work until I realise it isn't my car. I went on a cruise last year in a massive ship and never dared leave the cabin unaccompanied for fear of never returning.
It's the same in hotels. I've got a vague idea where the dining room is situated but have to rely on my sense of smell, which fortunately is quite strong. What's really ironic is that people come to me of all people and ask me the way. I remember on one occasion having just been to an eye specialist in central London and walking around more confused than ever because I was recovering from the effect of the eyedrops, I was asked the way 3 times on the underground by foreign tourists and me hardly able to see where the map was! Of course if it occurs on your own doorstep, it can be most embarrassing. It often happens when I'm in the front garden. I hear a car approaching and I know it's slowing down because someone wants to know something and then you hear the window winding down. I want to hide in the hedge but my hedge is small and I'm not. I want to pretend I'm just a jobbing gardener but my upbringing forces me to be civil. Take the other day. I was at the hedge again and a car drew up. A woman's voice called out: Post Office? Now I was brought up to say: Excuse me, can you direct me...? or something like this but no this was a querulous question. The husband was driving and grinning with a look almost of pleading me not to be taken aback by his bossy wife. Well, I told her, a bit surly just to show I wasn't going to be browbeaten and her grateful grinning husband drove off. I felt really pleased with myself because it's a piece of cake getting from my house to the post office. A few minutes more of my clipping and I saw that same car returning. The husband was still grinning but also going red as well this time as he slowed the car down. Madam wound the window down and yelled: Post office closed on a Tuesday. Forgotten hadn't you?
What a cheek!
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What's your sense of direction like?
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