Maddie’s World
In her weekly column, Maddie Grigg shares tales from her life in rural Dorset . . .
SO that’s Christmas done and dusted for another year. All that effort for just a few days. And was it worth it? Well, yes, actually. Getting together with my big family is hard work, but it reminds me how lucky I am to have them all.
We said a few silent “Season’s greetings” to those no longer with us in person but here in spirit.
And we toasted all the little ones, who are growing bigger by the minute, as they pick up the baton for the family’s future.
Mr Grigg and I had lots of fun with the village people again on New Year’s Eve, dancing until midnight in the pub courtesy of DJ Landlord and Mrs Plum, and then going out into the square in a conga before singing “Auld Lang Syne” as the church clock struck twelve.
I’m not much of one for New Year’s resolutions, apart from a general desire to lose a bit of weight and get fitter, but this year I’m all prepared for a new direction. I’m not sure where I’m going to go, but I know how to get there.
And that’s because my Christmas present from Mr Grigg was something I’ve wanted since the late summer – a satellite navigation unit for the car.
I’ve always been one for maps, to the point that, when I bought my car earlier this year, I refused to pay the extra to have an in-built satnav.
I’d never need it, I thought.
That was until Mr Grigg decided he wanted to whisk me away to France and Spain in September for a whole month, to celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary.
My face fell.
“You know what happened the last time we went on a road trip,” I reminded him. “We almost came to blows when we tried to find our accommodation in Italy.”
It was true. By the time we’d reached our hotel, they’d stopped doing food. We had to make our way back into the town, where we bought the biggest pizza I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t worry,” Mr Grigg said. “I have a cunning plan.”
My heart sank.
But it needn’t have, because the plan involved borrowing the Fragrant Mrs Putter’s satnav, and programming it to take us from stop to stop on our epic journey.
It was the perfect solution to a potentially explosive situation.
Our arguing at every junction could easily have ended up in divorce, which would have been rather ironic, considering we were meant to be celebrating our wedding anniversary.
Mr Grigg programmed the satnav in the evenings and, hey presto, each morning it was all fired up and ready to take us exactly where we wanted to go, with minimal fuss.
With a kind yet authoritative voice that reminded me of Valerie Singleton (“here’s one I made earlier”), the satnav became known as Thomasina.
Along with the two of us and Arty in the back, she became the fourth member of the Road Trip Crew.
Her pronunciation left a lot to be desired, and made me less embarrassed about my own schoolgirl French.
There were several moments on our epic trip where Mr Grigg and I would look at each other and snigger at how Thomasina pronounced the various towns and villages and streets on our journey.
She was so much a part of our month away that I even dreamed about her.
“Bear left,” she told me in my sleep one night, only for a large grizzly bear to run from right to left across my eyelids.
“How did you get on with the satnav?” the Fragrant Mrs Putter asked on our return.
“She saved our marriage,” I told her.
And now, after taking ownership of my very own Thomasina, I’m all set for the journey ahead. ■