Day 116: Obeying Jane

I have a satnav.  And friends who are proud to own no such thing.  Who prefer to rely on sextant, chronometer and trade winds.  Fine for their leisurely road trips on holiday to Cornwall or Suffolk.  But I rarely work in the same place twice.  Pre-satnav I regularly risked life and limb, driving with a crumpled AA route planner printout plastered over the steering wheel - more as a talisman than a guide, as it was totally unreadable on dark winter mornings.  I'd get to my destination with my navigational ego intact ('No, no - no problem at all.  It was still dark, so I simply followed the stars.  Easy peasy.').  But with my shoulders tensed up to my ears. 

So I am incredibly grateful for the headgirlish tones of 'Jane' as she sternly guides me through the unknown.  But even prefects make mistakes, and occasionally she has tried to take me down a one-way street, or cross-country over a field.  And sometimes she just picks a bum route, and I know better.  On these occasions I override her instructions.  She takes this in her stride, treating me with calm disapproval, and a crisp action plan.  'U-turn ahead.  Turn around where possible!'.  Maybe, Jane...  Maybe not... 

I am being slightly unfair.  The main reason she tries to take me off-road is that my map is way out of date, and there's not enough space on the memory card for the updated version.  It's been this way for years.  Recently I nearly missed a job, having been guided down a lane to a dead end, a five-bar gate, and the confident words 'You have reached your destination'.  Aplomb 10/10.  Navigation 0/10.  Life Metaphor - awaiting death bed to score accuracy.



So I finally take action, and order a new memory card.  What shall I get?  I need 1.7GB of space, so a 2GB card would be sufficient.  I decide to err on the side of generosity and large portions, so go for 4GB.  Room to grow, as the woman in Clarks used to say, as she prodded the empty space at the ends of my Sunsplash school sandals.  One day later the 4GB arrives. I feel slick and efficient.  Not like a person whose life would end in a metaphorical five-bar gate. 

Jane spits the new memory card out immediately.  She doesn't even give a reason - just a big red cross on her screen.  This time I cannot override her.

So the 2GB is on its way to me.  I hope Jane will be happy.  Again, I am presented with a lesson in moderation.  1GB too small.  4GB too big.  2GB just right. 

(On that basis - not booby, not boobiest, but boobier.  TV's BOOBIER Babes.  (See Day One Hundred and Thirteen).)