Wish I learnt how to drive now.
Himself is excellent at spotting a bookshop from three hundred yards away on the opposite side of the road...never one to drive fast he'll speed up, so by the time I've said...Oooo, look, a bookshop...we're a couple of miles away.
He's the same with the Hospice Charity shops, which are excellent actually...some of the managers even colour co-ordinate the clothes. They don't smell of things long dead when you walk in either, unlike some charity shops I've visited where all the goods for sale are grimy and slightly greasy to the touch.
But he zooms past or says he can't stop because there's a car behind him or there's nowhere to park or he'll look pointedly at his watch as though we have to be somewhere urgently...
He does the same when we've been out for a while and I really need a cup of coffee. Straight past a petrol station at sixty miles an hour while I flap my hands about pathetically and say we could have stopped there so I could buy a coffee...he did that one day and announced he hadn't stopped because we didn't need petrol. Didn't speak to him for the rest of the afternoon...
Then there are all those seriously interesting signs pointing down narrow side roads...Disused Burial Ground...Old Cemetery...Early Church Ruins. Oh look ...but we're past the turning and Himself says we'll stop there next time we come this way and I know without a doubt we'll probably never come this way ever again...
So I do a Google search when we arrive back home and find we could have seen the 'earliest inscribed Celtic Cross in Ireland' or the 'clearly visible remains of a Plague Pit' 'the burial place of the early Monks' interesting stuff like that...
Last year I saw a bramble patch with the biggest juiciest Blackberries ever...he did stop so I could pick some...and drove very slowly behind me, all the time, practically running over my feets as I braved the nettles and thorns and savage Wasps intent on stinging my hands...
So I wish I'd learnt to drive a car when I was in my youth...