I neither attended the funeral nor picked up Mum yesterday, but I did drive in to town to see her. I ended up going in later than I had planned because I needed to psych myself up to it (and eat lunch). You see, in this case, driving somewhere familiar was worse than driving somewhere new, because: ( “My fraught relationship with Roads )
And so it came to pass, and driving was not scary, etc.
Which brings us to: Pride
I left the hospital desiring to get my glasses fixed & make it home before Dad and co got back. Mum assured me they would feed themselves en route but I had said I’d have something easy to cook.
Destination: Jesmond. A suburb I have been to only a couple of times & I’ve certainly never driven to the shops there.
Problem: there’s no mobile reception in the hospital basement car park with which to prime Google maps.
Achievement: I successfully drove myself there using only road signage and my sense of direction! I strutted into Jesmond shops feeling like king of - well, not the world, just king of a small patch of Known Geography.
And then: Matters cascade
The vyvanse drained out of my brain like power from an iPhone battery in 0 degree weather. I wandered, increasingly stupid, around Jesmond looking for Specsavers. I decided to grocery shop there, so that I could buy a Coke & consume emergency dex.
And then! The city ganged up on me, starting with the fact that I had parked in the weirdest parking spot in Jesmond and to get out had to reverse UP the lane and then do a reverse six point turn under the amused gaze of the auto detailing guy. Then… I have complaints. ( Urban planning is my enemy )
And that is how I took a twilight tour of the suburb of Shortland, and ended up home a full hour later than the relatives who had traveled twice as far.
If you consider this screenshot map, reconstructing where I had proudly navigated myself to by memory, my prospective routes out of town (blue) and where I ended up (yellow), you will see that, in fact…
Pride goeth before Wallsend