By: Blonde Two
I get teased a lot about my lack of ability to navigate when I am driving the car down Devon’s lanes (or indeed, its really big roads). Former embarrassing mistakes have included losing a whole Rescue Centre and a wasted hour circumnavigating the roundabouts of Exeter. I had a (much smaller) but similar issue walking round some lanes on our Saturday Snowdrop Hunt. As you can imagine, this is a particularly ridiculous situation for someone who can find a 5cm cross on a very dark Dartmoor to find herself in. Something has to be done, so I have been examining the issue (as only a Blonde can). I have come to a couple of conclusions and their possible solutions;1. Roads can be very badly behaved. They have a kind of magnetic “keep-on-walking” effect which encourages a Blonde to forget about counting paces or checking time. The answer to this problem is clearly to wear a blindfold. In the dark, you wouldn’t see the road ahead so it couldn’t tempt you forwards.
2. The Dartmoor pixies have modern cousins who have left the moor and work their dark magic on the lanes. They can lull the unsuspecting Blonde into a false sense of security. They whisper, “Walk this way, all is well, I will take you there.” The Blonde follows without a thought for what she is doing and finds that she has walked in a circle back to where she came from. The solution for this is obvious – make sure that, even when you are walking on the lanes, you leave a present for the little folk.
3. Snowdrop hunting is distracting. When you spend most of the walk poking in undergrowth or peering over people’s fences, it is easy to forget that you have a directional goal as well as a botanical one. The next garden fence or old oak tree might just the one that is hiding that elusive Galanthus Green Tear (worth lots of money). The answer to this would be to allocated clear roles to each member of the party. For example, a party of three could have one navigator, one botanist and one peace-keeper for when there is a clash of goals (when you share a gene pool, this is bound to happen!)
For me, particularly when driving, but walking also, the problem arises when talking to a companion. I just keep going straight ahead. But, I thought you ladies, and especially the two Blondes, would be good at multi-tasking.
I think your problem needs deeper analysis. Unfortunately James Thurber is no longer with us so it’s no good trying to write to him, but you may glean some help from reading The Thurber Carnival.
A carnival sounds fun – will look out for it. We are very good at multi-tasking and I think become more confused when we only have one job to do at once but you are right about the talking … and one obvious unmentioned issue was that we weren’t together! If fact, all of the “getting lost” events have happened when I was sans-Blonde.
Loved the part about the “lost hour circumnavigating Exeter’s roundabouts” because on my first trip to Exeter in 1999 I got lost every single time I drove from Broadclyst (where our holiday let was) into Exeter city.
Add one more to the team of three. Someone with a sharp eye and a loaded pixie gun. No need to mortify the little creatures; just shoot the silly curled-up tip from one of their boots. Forget presents; remember Danegeld (something I haven’t thought about since primary school).
Dear Pixies
Please take note that the Two Blondes would not even consider pixie shoe shooting. We will be leaving you some lovely chocolate on Saturday!
Botany is even more fun, dear Blondes, when you have the camera beautifully lined up on a glorious snowdrop, and there is a screech of brakes alongside you, followed by much opening of doors and leaping out of husky young males of the species who want to know whether you are 1. drunk, 2. injured, 3. asleep, or 4. Just plain old dead. It is even more fun when they leap up a steep mountainside with the same objective.
Bless ’em all!
That does sound exciting indeed – I shall pack a comfy roll mat especially for the purpose of lying around until males turn up!