Ach, Jaysus! Where’s it sending us now? I might have said if I was a local. But I’m not. Went out in the car to pick up some online ordered shopping from a store beginning with T (To find that they had ‘substituted’ almost a third of my order – Natch) Well, that was the plan.
So, using my handy dandy little cell phone with heavy duty data plan I punched in the co-ordinates. So far so good. The inbuilt Satnag fired up and took us out up the road. Left turn, right turn, gosh this road’s a bit narrow isn’t it? Okay. Ten kilometres later, lovely hedgerows aren’t they? Go right into an even narrower road. Hang on a minute! This isn’t a road it’s a farm track isn’t it? Through a Sitka Spruce plantation. Are we sure we want to go this way? Satnag says yes and I don’t know the area so we carry on in the hope of being directed onto a wider road. Right out onto a wider country lane blocked with around fifty guys walking in loose formations, they wave us past.
Heading toward sunset we are finally directed onto a main road. There is a massive sigh of relief from Mrs S in the passenger seat. This is better. Then five kilometres further on to cries of “What?” we are directed to go right onto a side road and yet more lanes. Sounds of exasperation rattle my ears from the co-pilots position. Down through a series of tight S-bends and right again. My sense of direction is scrambled and I have no effing idea if we’re on the right road or not.
Out onto a half familiar road. I recall being here once before a few years ago on our last Irish trip. Okay. I’m getting annoyed now. I’m a patient man but I’m pretty sure we’re being taken the pretty way, not the most direct route as requested. “I think.” I vouchsafed cautiously. “That my phone has caught a dose of the leprechauns.” Mrs S does not deign to reply, but I can tell from the way she’s breathing that this is all my fault and I will be made to pay. All the warning signs are there.
We finally locate the store and pull in a good three quarters of an hour later than planned. Dusk is with us now, shading the light and making me search for how to get back to the barn via some easier to navigate main roads. Order is loaded. I’m not going to argue about the substituted items, it’s too late in the day and I’m getting tired, a hangover from the jet lag.
It’s worth noting at this point that I’m the only one named on the car rental agreement, so Mrs S is relegated to being my co-pilot and chief critic while I rediscover my manual gear change technique. So I want to get back without too much hassle in the evening along narrow and very unfamiliar roads. After half a dozen false starts, with Mrs S having finally lost patience with the hire cars onboard satnag and directing us along the main N and M roads, we finally turn into our temporary home, startling the farmyard cats, who have come to get a good look at the new kids in town.
My sigh of relief is looked askance at but not commented upon. Well, not verbally. We are both hungry and thirsty. There is food. There is much needed alcohol. It will do for now.