Well, I almost completely forgot about this little item that I wanted to share with you. A combination of trying to manage my Chronic Fatigue and working on the book are the reasons for this. Oh, by the way, I’m now on chapter 20 and I think that 21 will just about finish it off. As you may probably recall, I used the “Who Am I?” series of posts as a blueprint for the book, but I didn’t realise how bad some of my writing was in those posts until I started working on the main project, sorry about that peeps! As things stand we are still looking at a June release for Eyesight To The Blind, but I’m not going to rush this one, so if it turns out be later; then so be it.
Anyway, back to the main subject of this post. It concerns my ordination day. The venue at Stoke Gifford was a spiritualist church that I’d served for a few years. But due to the church changing hands, closing and then opening again, it must have been a good ten years since I’d been there. Me being me, I had an idea in my head as to where the venue was, but I didn’t bother to refresh my memory before the big day came. As a result of my very typical behaviour, it wasn’t until I left the M4 motorway and was driving down the exit road to the traffic lights and roundabout, that I realised that I couldn’t remember if I took the left or right-hand lane. Certain indicators told me that I took the right-hand lane; that part of my memory returned, but as I approached the roundabout I then realised that there was something akin to a “spaghetti junction” of lanes going around the aforementioned roundabout, and I simply didn’t have a clue which one I was meant to take.
I pointed the car in the general direction of “in front” as I drove onto the roundabout and its four traffic lanes. At some point the lanes split into 2 x 2, as opposed to 1 x 4, and at the point where they split they were separated by a stretch of tarmac clearly marked as a “no, no” for motorists to drive over. If you were in the wrong lane, tough! You had to go all the way round the roundabout again and have another go at getting it right. I realised that I didn’t have a clue where I was going, and then I noticed I was indeed in the wrong lane. As my car then drove over the area of tarmac which was not for driving over, I realised that even though my hands were on the steering wheel, it wasn’t me that was driving the car; a higher power just seemed to take over.
As the car changed lanes I expected to hear other motorists tooting their horns like crazy at me. But when I glanced around, there was not one single car to be seen anywhere; I had the roundabout all to myself. I was then further relieved when I looked up to see a signpost that said, “Stoke Gifford”. Great! At least I was on the right track.
Then it occurred to me that in the years since I’d driven this way, there had been major changes to the road layout, and Stoke Gifford wasn’t exactly prominently signposted. It was dark anyway, which didn’t help, but I really didn’t have a clue. Every time I came to a junction or roundabout the car just automatically took the right route. It was only when I saw a familiar landmark that I seemed to have the wheel again, and I arrived at my destination with plenty of time to spare.
Incredible as it seems… I wasn’t even surprised…