Entry for February 15, 2007

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a poor sense of direction. A very poor sense of direction. I suspect it is genetic, because most of my family are exactly the same. My sister and my papa Bayley are the only people I know who approach my level of disability.
In fact, I wonder whether a poor sense of directin can be genetic. Presumably the gene responsible for a poor sense of direction would itself find it difficult to pass down through several generations without taking a wrong turn somewhere and ending up in the genome of an salmon in Nova Scotia scratching its little head, peering uncertainly through the murky water and wondering if the next bend in the river might lead back to Lanarkshire.
Also, to call my sense of direction a "sense" at all is a bit of a misnomer. It is more of an anti-sense. If there is a wrong turn to be taken, then I will take it with uncanny regularity.
To give a specific, I was coming home from Perth last night and there was a diversion. Diversions are a problem for me. I followed it slavishly but after a pleasant tour around the city centre the signs petered out and I was suddenly faced with a split second decision about whether to filter for Edinburgh or Dundee.
That is Edinburgh in the central belt, a pleasant trip across the M8 from home.
Or Dundee, in the other direction and indeed across another Firth and halfway to Aberdeen.
I was not pleased at having to pay the Tay Bridge toll at 10.30pm.