We went to Autosport International this weekend. Needless to say, I was ready to leave on Saturday morning quite a long time before Mr C had even contemplated packing his bag. The headless chicken phase kicked in and he rushed around looking for shoes and toothpaste and the usual rubbish. He sat in front of the computer and struggled to print off the directions we needed to get from the NEC to the hotel. He cursed and kicked the machine and eventually got it to print out. I mentioned checking the traffic, but it went over his head and we were soon on our way.

Thankfully, the traffic wasn’t that bad. It was a little bit slow as we approached Birmingham, but this was to be expected. Autosport International was brilliant, as we knew it would be, and soon we were getting back in the car to head to the hotel and check in.

“I, uh… I can’t find the directions.”

“Did you check your bag?”

“Not there.”

“Pockets? Glove box? Boot?”

All answered in the negative.

Panic.

“I can’t believe you made us late trying to print them off and have now forgotten them.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Mr C had a general idea of where we should be headed and a basic working knowledge of Birmingham, so armed with a street map and an atlas, we headed towards the city centre. We had the address of the hotel, but none of it matched anything on our street map. There were one way streets and roundabouts that weren’t on the street map at all.

Amazingly, we found our way and enjoyed the rest of our weekend. When we arrived home, the directions were sitting next to the printer, smiling at us.