We rarely argue, but one thing that can set us off is driving. I get travel sick and can’t navigate from a map when moving. He’s not a good passenger. The invention of the Sat Nag has, to a certain degree, helped – but when we picked up the hire car at Nice airport I drove, as the Sat Nag refused to work.
So there I was, driving on the wrong side of the road, my feet operating the pedals (which are of course in the same order as they are at home) while my arms were trying to remember that the gear stick is on the right, the opposite side to what I am used to, whilst trying not to make my darling husband too nervous as he issued directions to me, often three times, with increasing volume, sometimes confusing his left and right. You can imagine, therefore that, after an early start (5 am) and little food Continue reading “Driving in France”