As my five readers may remember, I have a friend called Lorraine (no, you're not confused; my friend has the same name as me). Lorraine is the 'mother' to Coco, my little Wednesday dog.
Earlier this week, I was invited to Lorraine's new place for lunch. Lorraine's house is in Seatoun Heights. It looks down over Worser Bay.
Lorraine and I live no more than 2 kms apart, but it still took me 55 minutes to get from my place to hers. Goodness, I could have got to Levin, up the line, in the time it took me to drive over the hill. I got completely lost.
I am so ashamed. And embarrassed.
I finally arrived at Lorraine's in tears, collapsing on the shoulder of - wait for it! - yet another Lorraine, and this is the trouble when all your friends and yourself are born in the same decade. Mothers-to-be hear this well - never give a popular name of the time to your child!
I was hot, sweaty-wet, emotional, and stressed out. I'm telling you all, those winding, curvy streets on Seatoun Heights hill, with up to three signs on a single signpost and most of them pointing in the same direction ..... stink!
I'd love to say that it wasn't me, but - and here's a secret - it is me. Last week, I was supposed to pick up a friend from her house. I was coming from Porirua and had no idea how to get to her from there, so I put the address into my satellite navigation thingamebob.
As I was approaching Wellington, I dropped the device on the floor. It seemed to work again so I followed directions. I went three times around the suburb of Brooklyn in a big circle, then that annoying lady in the SatNav told me to go through the Hataitai Tunnel. It was only then that I realised she was sending me home. In the end, I looked at a paper map, and only got lost twice following that. I think my friend read "Gone with the Wind" from start to finish, whilst she was waiting for me to arrive.
Here's a pic that I took in Lorraine's house, of Coco, my Wednesday dog.