Friends in the north

I KNOW I ve admitted it in the past. I simply don t see eye-to-eye with modern technology. And, I believe, I am not alone. Someone the other day was asking whether the car was actually equipped with sat-nav. Well, I ve heard of such a device, but to me th

I KNOW I've admitted it in the past. I simply don't see eye-to-eye with modern technology.

And, I believe, I am not alone.

Someone the other day was asking whether the car was actually equipped with sat-nav.

Well, I've heard of such a device, but to me there is nothing like the tried and tested good old-fashioned method of having an atlas.

The problem at the weekend was that atlas was old and, therefore, not at all good.

Although in the ­circumstances I doubt whether sat-nav or even the latest AA route plan would have helped.

Quite simply, such modern devices do not seem to be able to deal with a one-way street introduced literally overnight, blocked roads, or miles and miles of cones directing all motorists around endless diversions.

Now had it been the centre of London then there would have been no problem.

But this was an alien place: a city which seemed in some parts to be lost in the mists of time. A city which grew its reputation on the steel ­industry and, probably, making razor blades.

It was, you have probably guessed by now, Sheffield.

Even when we asked for directions - and having a wife who can speak Yorkshire - didn't help in the circumstances.

It had taken two hours or so to reach the city centre and somewhere in Sheffield's mean streets was our ­destination where we were supposed to be attending a wedding reception.

And not just any wedding reception.

But one of an ex-Crow reporter who managed to invite other ex-Crow reporters.

Indeed, it was more of a reunion than a reception.

But there we were travelling in ever-decreasing circles somewhere between Bramall Lane and Hillsborough (I mention that because that would have been the two places I would have recognised) attempting to locate the ­reception location.

After almost two hours we were in the middle of a deserted area which gave all the appearance of having not seen life for the last decade at least.

And there is the middle of this wasteland was a ­converted Victorian warehouse. Our mission ­accomplished.

So who needs sat-nav?

Well, the return journey did involve, shall I say, a diversion to Rotherham.