20 August 2009 – why do there have to be so many roundabouts?

All about roundabouts

All about roundabouts

Mike made me drive to Gosport today because I’d been telling him about the job offer and he thought it would be a good idea. It wasn’t too bad to start with, driving up through the village knowing I didn’t have to face Shirley High Street at least. Then I had to merge into the traffic on the bypass which was a bit scary. Luckily it wasn’t very busy but I kept thinking how different it would be in the rush hour. The next part was ok, it’s basically just a long straight road and, with Mike telling me which lane to get in, I only had to worry about going forward and Mike’s constant reminders to keep my speed up and go with the flow of the traffic. Personally I prefer to drive like a little old lady and let everyone else go past.

Then we came to the giant roundabout. Nerve wracking wasn’t the word. Mike told me to take the third exit but I was so worked up about getting in the right lane I totally lost count. I swear I’d still be driving round and round now if he hadn’t told me when to move over and indicate. At least the long straight road that came next gave my heart time to slow back down.

I had no idea where I was until I recognised the bridge at Swanwick. That reminded me of going to visit my friend Di, years ago. She lived just the other side of the bridge and she had cancer. Commando used to drive me out there to visit when she got too sick to drive herself. The last time I saw her she was so drugged up with morphine I might as well not have been there. After that I think I tuned out a bit, thinking about Di because the next thing I remember is another roundabout, a smaller one this time. Mike told me third exit again but I nearly messed it up because one of the exits was just a tiny little side road so I didn’t think it counted.

Just as I was getting over that there was a massive roundabout. There has to be a better way than roundabouts surely? Guess what, third exit again. I hardly had time to breath out before there was a little roundabout. For heaven sakes, this was turning into a roundabout fest and I was wishing I was in Shirley High Street, at least I know where I am with that. After that there was a nice easy left turn and I was on country roads I recognised from driving with Jolie, this must have been past the place she normally comes off the motorway. It’s all a bit of a blur then until we were more or less in Gosport. It was mainly country roads with a bit of dual carriageway thrown in for good measure but no more roundabouts. Gosport was a bit scary but then we were turning round and going back. It was about then that I realised I had all those roundabouts to face again going the other way.

Somehow I made it all the way back, goodness knows how because I was exhausted when we got to Gosport. All I wanted was for Mike to take over and let me sleep on the drive home but obviously that’s not what I’m paying him for and I wouldn’t learn much like that. If anything the exercise was a lesson in how much I don’t want to work in Gosport. Imagine having to go through that every single day! Worse still, imagine doing it on my own. Apart from anything I’d probably get lost and end up in Dover or somewhere. I have no sense of direction what so ever.

Commando said he was really proud of me when I told him about it. I’m sure he thinks I’m much better at this driving lark than I really am. He doesn’t realise how much help Mike gives me and how hopeless I’d be without it. If we ever manage to find a car for me and Commando is ever brave enough to take me out driving he’s going to be sadly disappointed, if not a little scared. At least with Mike I have the comfort of dual controls. Actually I wonder how much of it I’m actually doing on my own and how much of it is Mike sneakily doing it for me. Maybe it’s better not to know.

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