The worst thing about Spanish roads is their sheer inconsistency.
Yesterday I went to a friend’s house for lunch. She lives in ‘the hills’ and so I was directly dependent on my GPS to get me there. The first part of the journey was on one of the roads that I knew and it was only after I took the ‘other’ branch of the motorway from the one that I usually take to go to Terrassa that I was in uncharted territory.
That ‘uncharted’ bit was only metaphorical as the calm voice of the GPS was obviously quite confident about where we were going and, as the roads on which I was travelling were a minimum of three lanes wide I was jocose.
It was when I hit a B road that I felt less secure. My first mistake was when The Voice told me that I was approaching a roundabout which did not readily show itself. As The Voice told me to take the first exit from a roundabout which did not exist I noticed, unobtrusively tucked away from the road on which I was travelling, what could have been a casual roundabout.
My eventual return along the road after The Voice had uttered the dreaded word, “Recalculating!” did reveal the timid little roundabout and I was back on course.
From there on the road transmogrified itself in a playful and capricious way which left my faith in The Voice severely tested. One moment the road would be a normal two lane entity with road marking and everything and then, suddenly, for no apparent reason it would look like some unused country lane. Sometime the road surface would be up to normal road standards and sometimes it would suddenly change into something which looked as though the residents had just thrown something together to cover a few potholes.
It didn’t help that these changes in road surface were accompanied by a gradient of what seemed at times like 1 in 1. I kept thinking that the roads were too steep and too badly kept to be anything other than a private farm road and then on roads far too narrow I would see a bus stop! I think that I would have had to have had a fairly strong sedative to take a ticket on a bus travelling those precipitate roads, but at least it encouraged me to believe that I was still on the right track.
The actual road on which my friend lived was not on the maps but I had a hand drawn indication of what I had to do when the GPS gave up. Her road was, if anything, even steeper than the other roads that I had used and reversing into a space on a slope so steep that the seat belt automatically locked put pressure on the capabilities of the car and left a funny mechanical smell in the air when the manoeuvre had been completed.
She has an incredible parcel of land around her property with trees galore and enough space for the dogs, cats and a hen that she looks after.
I had left Toni at home feeling sick, lying in front of the television looking at Big Brother – a picture of misery that would be hard to duplicate from any work of literature!
I left before the sun set as I had absolutely no desire to try the precipitous, circuitous roads in anything other than bright daylight. I timed things well and darkness only approached when I was safely back on Big Roads that I knew well.
As all three people having lunch were linked by searing experienced in The School That Sacked Me you can imagine the course that at least some of the conversation took. It was not however all negative and plans were made for action which could result in a positive education outcome – something which has eluded The School That Sacked Me for some time.
We have come away from our meeting inspired to take further action and to keep ourselves informed of anything that we discover.
Today is the last day of the ‘holiday’ and I think that I have spent the time well combining everything from tree felling to sunbathing. School is going to be an anti-climax after the ferocious activity and masterly inaction which have characterized this break!
I do have to do some school work as well – though god knows with the sun shining and the beach beckoning I am, shall we say, disinclined to do any.
I only hope the perennial guilt which accompanies a typical Sunday afternoon in the life of a normal teacher will kick in and prompt me to action!
Yesterday I went to a friend’s house for lunch. She lives in ‘the hills’ and so I was directly dependent on my GPS to get me there. The first part of the journey was on one of the roads that I knew and it was only after I took the ‘other’ branch of the motorway from the one that I usually take to go to Terrassa that I was in uncharted territory.
That ‘uncharted’ bit was only metaphorical as the calm voice of the GPS was obviously quite confident about where we were going and, as the roads on which I was travelling were a minimum of three lanes wide I was jocose.
It was when I hit a B road that I felt less secure. My first mistake was when The Voice told me that I was approaching a roundabout which did not readily show itself. As The Voice told me to take the first exit from a roundabout which did not exist I noticed, unobtrusively tucked away from the road on which I was travelling, what could have been a casual roundabout.
My eventual return along the road after The Voice had uttered the dreaded word, “Recalculating!” did reveal the timid little roundabout and I was back on course.
From there on the road transmogrified itself in a playful and capricious way which left my faith in The Voice severely tested. One moment the road would be a normal two lane entity with road marking and everything and then, suddenly, for no apparent reason it would look like some unused country lane. Sometime the road surface would be up to normal road standards and sometimes it would suddenly change into something which looked as though the residents had just thrown something together to cover a few potholes.
It didn’t help that these changes in road surface were accompanied by a gradient of what seemed at times like 1 in 1. I kept thinking that the roads were too steep and too badly kept to be anything other than a private farm road and then on roads far too narrow I would see a bus stop! I think that I would have had to have had a fairly strong sedative to take a ticket on a bus travelling those precipitate roads, but at least it encouraged me to believe that I was still on the right track.
The actual road on which my friend lived was not on the maps but I had a hand drawn indication of what I had to do when the GPS gave up. Her road was, if anything, even steeper than the other roads that I had used and reversing into a space on a slope so steep that the seat belt automatically locked put pressure on the capabilities of the car and left a funny mechanical smell in the air when the manoeuvre had been completed.
She has an incredible parcel of land around her property with trees galore and enough space for the dogs, cats and a hen that she looks after.
I had left Toni at home feeling sick, lying in front of the television looking at Big Brother – a picture of misery that would be hard to duplicate from any work of literature!
I left before the sun set as I had absolutely no desire to try the precipitous, circuitous roads in anything other than bright daylight. I timed things well and darkness only approached when I was safely back on Big Roads that I knew well.
As all three people having lunch were linked by searing experienced in The School That Sacked Me you can imagine the course that at least some of the conversation took. It was not however all negative and plans were made for action which could result in a positive education outcome – something which has eluded The School That Sacked Me for some time.
We have come away from our meeting inspired to take further action and to keep ourselves informed of anything that we discover.
Today is the last day of the ‘holiday’ and I think that I have spent the time well combining everything from tree felling to sunbathing. School is going to be an anti-climax after the ferocious activity and masterly inaction which have characterized this break!
I do have to do some school work as well – though god knows with the sun shining and the beach beckoning I am, shall we say, disinclined to do any.
I only hope the perennial guilt which accompanies a typical Sunday afternoon in the life of a normal teacher will kick in and prompt me to action!
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