We can trust our own instincts, but maybe the gadgets are smarter after all - Susan Morrison

For some reason I punched the address into the Satnav, says Susan MorrisonFor some reason I punched the address into the Satnav, says Susan Morrison
For some reason I punched the address into the Satnav, says Susan Morrison
Last weekend I drove up to Alva to see an old friend. We met at university. Back then, you needed a Latin O-Level to get into Glasgow or Edinburgh, so that gives you an idea of how long ago that was.

I got the O-Level, incidentally. Utterly useless, since I went to Stirling instead. It wasn’t a waste though. Thanks to the deranged enthusiasm of a brilliant teacher, Mr Corsar, I developed a lifelong fascination with the Roman world.

He was an exceptional communicator. The whole class loved him. We waded through arcane chunks of Virgil, Horace and Seneca. We even did Ovid, even though he was widely considered to be a bit naughty, and possibly not suitable for 17 year-old Scottish schoolkids.

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He constantly told us to memorise texts, no matter how daunting they seemed to be. After all, he told us, after-dinner entertainment for Rome’s movers and shakers could include a high-profile actor declaiming massive chunks of lyrical poetry from memory. Bet they started with the high-minded stuff then took requests for a bit of smutty Ovid when the wine had poured in. Use your memory, he told us. Don’t write things down.

I’ve driven to Alva from Edinburgh for over 30 years. The route is hard-wired in my brain, even allowing for a new shiny bridge. But, for some reason, I punched the address into the Satnav and started to follow the machine’s instructions. I should have trusted my instincts and my own memory.

Something started going wonky fairly quickly and I found myself doing strange detours, and most definitely heading for the wrong bridge. Eventually I ignored the voice telling me to turn left, and started to think for myself.

Of course the car didn’t like that and started beeping in that mildly indignant manner until I arrived, as the snotty voice said, at my destination. There, I thought. Mr Corsar was right. Keep the brain fresh, and trust your memory. Of course, it didn’t help that I had somehow set the directions to “walking route” mode. Maybe the gadgets are smarter after all.

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