Directionless

Not the existentialist drama you may be expecting, although surrounded by artists as I am, there’s always a chance that an element of angst might creep in.

One evening last week BelVita and I were driven home by way of an unfamiliar route. Often we had no idea where we were. London, yes, east heading west, we hoped, but where exactly, not a clue.

The conversation turned to my lack of internal compass. This is a low level regret of mine. Our father had a refined ability to get lost and back on track without needing a map, me not so much. It turns out that BelVita is also lacking in this department. We discussed several half baked tips on knowing which direction you are travelling in.

The sun is of course potentially some use….if you know what to look for. We determined that stars are rendered unhelpful by light pollution, clouds and in our case, ignorance.

BelVita put forward the fact that dogs prefer to shit on the earths north/south axis as potentially helpful. A fact that seems like it must surely be of some use….. if you are out, lost, and with a dog that needs a poo. She also half remembered some wise country directional hot tip to do with puddles, but only enough to confuse us both.

BelVita said, no worries, she’d probably be fine, she knows that she lives north west, and she has a dog, but then we considered how the north west element changes depending on the starting point of any journey, north west of some points is rendered south east of others.

Oh dear.

We concluded that if either of us ever get lost we should just hail a taxi.