ALRIGHT I admit it, my navigational skills are getting worse instead of better.

Anyone who knows me will tell you that my sense of direction and how to get to places leaves a lot to be desired.

For instance, I have lived in Swindon all of my life and drive around it on a daily basis - yet instead of going from A to B, I go from A to G via S past A again (cursing under my breath by this point) then finally arrive at B three hours later.

This weekend I managed it once again.

I was due to spend a relaxing weekend in a hotel just outside London with my boyfriend and, knowing how dodgy my directions are, I consulted a number of people on the best way to get there and how long it would take.

He obviously knows me far too well already and suggested that, despite my intensive research, it might be a good idea to take the Sat Nav along just in case.

It was a good plan. We used it several times in the end.

With the weather so glorious on Sunday we decided a wander along the canal in Reading would be a good pitstop on the way back to Swindon (my suggestion - I managed to keep secret the fact there is a huge shopping centre for all of... five minutes).

Driving back along the M4 I confidently said that I was pretty sure it was junction 11A we needed to come off at.

He checked with me several times and on each occasion I confirmed it was 11A.

That was until we went sailing past the wind turbine - and in my head I know that, as you are approaching Reading from Swindon, the junction you need is just after the metal object. Which meant we had just gone past it. Oops.

My glances out the back obviously alerted him to the situation and the teasing started. As we came off at junction 12 he asked if we could reach my planned destination from there.

"No, we need to get on the motorway and go back to junction 11," I said. I'm still not sure why he listened to my directions after what had just happened but he did.

You'll be thrilled to know that we eventually got there, strolled around the shops, had some lunch and yes, I managed to get lost and had to be reorientated by the boyfriend who had never been to Reading before but managed to find his way round better than me. Apart from that it was a lovely afternoon.

As we were driving back to the M4 he pointed out that we weren't on the same roads that we'd driven along coming in to Reading.

"Are we going to end up at the junction where we got off and got back on again?" Cue a very sheepish looking Steph, hanging her head in shame as we both get a feeling of deja vu going around the roundabout at the top of aforementioned junction.

Not sure I'm ever going to live that down.