A Sense of Direction

I have an affliction that traditionally seems to affect more women than men; basically I have a terrible sense of direction. I believe this is something that I have inherited from my mother because my father appears to have a very good sense of direction. It could have something to do with the fact that I practically break out in a sweat when someone gives me a map to read. I always have the urge to try to step into the map to get my bearings like Joey from Friends. Unfortunately it’s not confined to maps, because when someone is verbally giving me directions I get tied up in knots as soon as they start using lots of street names that I don’t know. The weird thing is that I regularly get asked for directions when I am randomly out and about. It has even happened a couple of times when I’ve been on holidays. To make matters worse I’m also terrible at giving directions particularly in Cork where I don’t know the names of lots of streets and I resort to saying things like ‘do you know where X pub is?’ before launching into a convoluted explanation about the location of their destination relative to that pub. I’ve sort of accepted this defect and found through experience that I generally need to lose my way before I can find it!