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Should have gone to SatNav!
Jan. 24th, 2010 03:14 pmI went to a Yule-tree burning at Bryan and Helma Betts' house in Brentford last night -- another re-meet thanks to Facebook. I last saw Bryan 10 years ago in Manchester, and probably hadn't seen him for 10 years before that. I'm really glad I went, for various reasons, although I didn't feel like that two hours into my drive trying to get to the place.
I tried to tot up the number of errors that I made in the seemingly simple task of trying to find a house very close to Brentford football grouns. It's any number between three and eight, depending on what you define as a mistake.
1) I decided to drive to a place I had never been to before. I'd been tossing up a mental coin between train and car for a few hours before leaving, but it kept landing on its edge.
2) I didn't buy a SatNav yesterday.
3) Looking at the map, it seemed so simple. I know how to get to the M4, and I just needed to take exit 2, and then turn left onto Ealing Road.
4) I missed exit 2. Now, this wasn't really an error, since there is no exit 2. There is one on the map, but there isn't one signalled on the road. Indeed, and I had never noticed this before, there's no real sign that you are on the M4. Westway just kind of "merges" into it. I kept my eye out for the diagonal black stripe speed limit sign, but the first one of those that you see is after the exit that I should have taken.
5) I was fairly sure that I had missed exit 2 when I reached exit 3. I couldn't just turn round on the motorway at exit 3 because the traffic was nose-to-tail for about three miles heading into London. So I took the left exit (correct). I then turned first left (way way incorrect). This took me north, under the motorway, and into Southall. I then drove around Southall for about half an hour, looking for a road sign.
Southall is a strange strange place. Mosques all covered in lights (as was St Anselm's Catholic Church). I was a stranger in a strange land.
6) I finally located myself on the map, but then went wrong again within a mile, taking the wrong exit at a roundabout I had not spotted on the map (i.e., turning right one roundabout too soon). This brought be back down Western Road (the third time I had travelled this particular route within half an hour) to, yes, exit 3! This time I was slightly better prepared, and I carried on to the A4, Great West Road, despite none of the road signs telling me that I was heading where I should be (they all told me I was going to Heathrow).
7) Just before I reached where I wanted to turn right into Ealing Road there was a confusing road sign, which nearly sent me north again towards Hanwell, but I turned round after 200 yards. Only half a mistake there.
8) I headed south down nearly the right road, and reached Brentford Station. Aha! I stopped there and rechecked the map, and was now confident that I could find Ealing Road (albeit from the south side rather than the north). I did so and, only an hour and a quarter (and 20 miles) after being within 800 yards of Bryan's house, I found the place.
I met Bryan's lovely wife Helma, whom he only married a few months ago, which means there's hope for all of us yet (not denigrating Bryan at all here ... all I mean is that we are not that far apart agewise). Bryan looked very well, apart from a badly bruised right eye and temple from a recent cycling accident. Later on he told me that he went on a low-carb diet about seven years ago (apart from beer, which he said doesn't count). He's still cut out nearly all bread, white flour, potatoes, white rice, and the key here definitely seems to be this processed carb stuff rather than brown-carb food (or, if you want, none of the high-glycaemic stuff). What was most interesting was that he said he had become intolerant of it. This would seem to indicate that western society's love of processed carbohydrates is as "learnt" as is our tolerance of cow's milk. Fascinating.
The people there were a great mix, and very international. A few (fewer than I had anticipated, TBH) were the viking crew. It was just generally a nice mix of people. However, by elevenish I was getting a bit tired (the drive there had taken it out of me) and was beginning to worry about being awake enough to drive home, so I took my leave.
9) And I took the wrong turning (one too soon again!) at a roundabout, and found myself driving through ye olde Chizwick rather than along the A4. Oh well, every road leads somewhere, and I knew that this was the right direction, so I carried on through Hammersmith, along to Hyde Park Corner, and came home that way. Just over an hour to get back, despite that small diversion along a slower road. Good fun.
The burning of the Yule. Helma suddenly notices that the clothes line is about to melt/catch fire.....
++++++++++++++++++++++
I tried to tot up the number of errors that I made in the seemingly simple task of trying to find a house very close to Brentford football grouns. It's any number between three and eight, depending on what you define as a mistake.
1) I decided to drive to a place I had never been to before. I'd been tossing up a mental coin between train and car for a few hours before leaving, but it kept landing on its edge.
2) I didn't buy a SatNav yesterday.
3) Looking at the map, it seemed so simple. I know how to get to the M4, and I just needed to take exit 2, and then turn left onto Ealing Road.
4) I missed exit 2. Now, this wasn't really an error, since there is no exit 2. There is one on the map, but there isn't one signalled on the road. Indeed, and I had never noticed this before, there's no real sign that you are on the M4. Westway just kind of "merges" into it. I kept my eye out for the diagonal black stripe speed limit sign, but the first one of those that you see is after the exit that I should have taken.
5) I was fairly sure that I had missed exit 2 when I reached exit 3. I couldn't just turn round on the motorway at exit 3 because the traffic was nose-to-tail for about three miles heading into London. So I took the left exit (correct). I then turned first left (way way incorrect). This took me north, under the motorway, and into Southall. I then drove around Southall for about half an hour, looking for a road sign.
Southall is a strange strange place. Mosques all covered in lights (as was St Anselm's Catholic Church). I was a stranger in a strange land.
6) I finally located myself on the map, but then went wrong again within a mile, taking the wrong exit at a roundabout I had not spotted on the map (i.e., turning right one roundabout too soon). This brought be back down Western Road (the third time I had travelled this particular route within half an hour) to, yes, exit 3! This time I was slightly better prepared, and I carried on to the A4, Great West Road, despite none of the road signs telling me that I was heading where I should be (they all told me I was going to Heathrow).
7) Just before I reached where I wanted to turn right into Ealing Road there was a confusing road sign, which nearly sent me north again towards Hanwell, but I turned round after 200 yards. Only half a mistake there.
8) I headed south down nearly the right road, and reached Brentford Station. Aha! I stopped there and rechecked the map, and was now confident that I could find Ealing Road (albeit from the south side rather than the north). I did so and, only an hour and a quarter (and 20 miles) after being within 800 yards of Bryan's house, I found the place.
I met Bryan's lovely wife Helma, whom he only married a few months ago, which means there's hope for all of us yet (not denigrating Bryan at all here ... all I mean is that we are not that far apart agewise). Bryan looked very well, apart from a badly bruised right eye and temple from a recent cycling accident. Later on he told me that he went on a low-carb diet about seven years ago (apart from beer, which he said doesn't count). He's still cut out nearly all bread, white flour, potatoes, white rice, and the key here definitely seems to be this processed carb stuff rather than brown-carb food (or, if you want, none of the high-glycaemic stuff). What was most interesting was that he said he had become intolerant of it. This would seem to indicate that western society's love of processed carbohydrates is as "learnt" as is our tolerance of cow's milk. Fascinating.
The people there were a great mix, and very international. A few (fewer than I had anticipated, TBH) were the viking crew. It was just generally a nice mix of people. However, by elevenish I was getting a bit tired (the drive there had taken it out of me) and was beginning to worry about being awake enough to drive home, so I took my leave.
9) And I took the wrong turning (one too soon again!) at a roundabout, and found myself driving through ye olde Chizwick rather than along the A4. Oh well, every road leads somewhere, and I knew that this was the right direction, so I carried on through Hammersmith, along to Hyde Park Corner, and came home that way. Just over an hour to get back, despite that small diversion along a slower road. Good fun.
The burning of the Yule. Helma suddenly notices that the clothes line is about to melt/catch fire.....
++++++++++++++++++++++
