Bloody Satnav.

A month or so ago we bought a new car and, owing to rate of modern progress, it came with a new satnav. I tried the latter a couple of weeks ago to get me to deepest Perth, a task it completed quite satisfactorily. Today, full of unjustified confidence, we told it to take us to Deskford; an adventure that turned into a remarkable journey. These days, I am not noted for my navigational skills; I am quite capable of memorizing: “first left, second right, straight over the next three roundabouts and third exit from the fourth.” Then, by the time we reach the first junction, I’m lost and need to get out the map again.
 
The route selected by modern technology seemed to take us all over the place; there were many minor roads involved but we seemed to be making good time. It was at the ninety mile stage of the one hundred and eighty mile journey that we were directed up a single track road, an invitation that we politely declined; apart from anything else, we were in need of refreshment and sanitary relief – we eventually found it on a sharp bend at the top of a desolate mountain; it seemed to be a civilised place which served the normal tepid soup and unsavory coffee – and the single seat toilet was out of order.
 
In all fairness, we did arrive at Deskford in good time having cut twenty miles off the normal journey and we did pass through what would have been wonderful scenery on a nice day. We have decided to stick to our normal route on the way back, at least there will be some usable stopping places.
 
Herself slept a for most of the trip and so had the energy to complain of being tired on arrival.