<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/connect-the-dots/”>Connect the Dots</a>Oh no! I’ve picked up the telephone directory. That means I have to write a wordpress post which includes, and I quote , the first sentence my hand falls on! it turns out to be; “77 Blackwell Road, London.” Are these WordPress people for real? Have they ever seen Blackwell Road? It’s the backside of the world. And I mean world.
Quo Vadis Sat Nav?
Jeremy Jones had been trying to come to terms with his sat nav for some five weeks, but he still could not make it work.
“Left, you idiot. Left, can’t you read?” Alexandra was getting madder by the minute. “Look at the bloody thing. What does it say for Saint Paul’s Cathedral? WEll?
“Oh, shit! How did you miss that bus? Have you got a driving licence?”
Jerry began to lose patience with his girl friend. “Belt up or I’ll hit the next one on purpose. What do you expect if you keep making me look away from the road and at that stupid thing you’ve stuck on the dashboard? Eh? Just shut it!”
The girl curled up in a sudden mixture of rage and disappointment. “So that’s all you think of the birthday present I bought you, is it? I looked everywhere for something original, Jerry. I thought you’d love it with your mania for everything to do with motoring. I also wanted to get to the Cathedral in time for the lunchtime concert, but we’ll never make that now. How could you be so thick Jerry? And where on earth are we anyway?”
Jerry did not have a clue but he was not going to admit he was lost. “Only slightly out of our way, love, don’t worry, that ‘sat’ thing will tell you.What does it say for where we are? 77,Blackwell road,London? Where’s that? I suppose it must be here, wherever THAT is! Still, we may yet make the city centre in time. I’ll take the next right and then you can direct me using the sat nav. ” Alexandra was slightly mollified and smiled at Jerry. She was very fond of him and regretted her outburst. But not for long. The first right was straight into a ‘no entry’ one way road and Jerry drove his sports car straight into an oncoming truck that thought it owned the road. Which in this case it did. The somewhat rough spoken driver was not amused.
“‘Ere mate. Wot the bleedin ‘ell de yer fink yer doing? If yer must drive a poncey little car to impress yer bird , take a driving test first.” As he was also some six foot five tall and as wide as he was high, Jerry was reluctant to challenge him.
“I’m awfully sorry, my dear fellow, but I am a bit lost around these parts and didn’t know this was a one way street. If you give me your documents I’ll see that my insurance company pays for all the damage. I really am sorry.”
The truck driver was about to explain to Jerry that he didn’t bother with expensive extras like insurance, or car tax, or even a driving licence. He was about to ask for a very large cheque or Jerry would answer to ‘his friends’, when the noise of the affray attracted a passing police car which sped to the scene. The truck driver went white. “Bloody ‘ell. The rozzers. Gawd, I’m orf! ”
But ‘off’ was the one thing he was not. The policemen recognised him and had handcuffed him before he could move. Then they bombarded him with unanswerable questions like, was it his truck? where had he stolen it? did he have a licence? etc etc and the curtain came down on the farce with the law officers leading the truck driver away. But as they turned to make sure that Jerry and Alexandra would be able to find their way back to the main thoroughfare one of them turned to Alex and smiled,
“Oh, but you’ll be okay, Miss. I see you’ve got a sat nav. You’ll not have any bother finding your way with that, will you?”