starting point

I was heading for a poetry gig

At some distant village hall

I’d got my map and directions

I checked it on Google and all

But somewhere along the route that I took

(I maybe turned left and not right?)

I ended up not knowing where I was at

I thought I might drive round all night

I tried to retrace the route that I’d taken

Discovering then to my cost

Reading a map while you’re driving’s not easy

I just got more hopelessly lost

Then I saw some village yokel

Stood in a field by a gate

I swallowed my masculine pride – asked directions

Otherwise I’d be terribly late

“So, where d’you wanna be at?” he says.

I told him my destination

He chewed on his pipe and he thought for a while

Then said without prevarication,

“To get to where you want to be

Isn’t easy at all, that’s clear.

You’d best be taking my advice –

I wouldn’t start from ‘ere!”

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