It had been planned for a long time, a nice weekend away for me and the missus at a wedding in Essex.
We travelled up the previous night and stayed with friends before making what should have been a simple 40-minute journey to the church the following day.
Well, it would have been a simple journey if it hadn’t been for the new woman in our relationship, Thelma (the name we gave to the satnav).
She decided in all her wisdom to take us absolutely nowhere near our destination. All the way into Southend in fact, right amongst the football traffic. Just what we wanted.
So with the clock ticking down, we turned around. This time Thelma knew where we were going and we could still make the church.
But no! Like those lorry drivers you see in the news, we were down a dead end, up a country lane. Marvellous.
There was shouting, there was swearing and, if I hadn’t bought her just the day before, Thelma would have been a victim of violence!
Instead of seeing the happy couple tie the knot and get confetti thrown at them, we had a nice view of a hedgerow, a field and a few cowpats.
It was time to cut our losses, head for the hotel and get ready for the big reception.
But without a map to hand and my lessons in orienteering learned in the sea cadets now long-forgotten, it was time to swallow some male pride and ask someone.
So the missus asked someone.
With directions in hand, we were off to the Travelodge. Five minutes later, we arrived at the Premier Inn.
Missus was duly blamed, the locals cursed and the satnav cursed some more.
In the end though, we found the hotel and the reception venue and had a great evening, even if the groom got a laugh at our expense during his speech.
The next morning, we were hoping to clear our heads before the journey home with breakfast brought to the room.
But the breakfast never arrived. So we had to take out a quick loan and head to the Little Chef.
But hey, at least Thelma found us the way home – the right way this time.