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And then there was the advent of the AA route planners you could create online and print. They gave you exact directions for your journey and felt revolutionary at the time.

But now, there’s sat nav. We pretty much all use it, and most of us probably don’t even have a map in the car any more. You don’t even need a separate device to use it like you used to. Most of us have it for free on our phones, via Google Maps or other apps.

There is literally no need to look at a map and get a feel for the direction you need to travel in before you set off. The little voice in the phone has you covered. Until it hasn’t, that is...

Katherine and her children really enjoyed Wakehurst when they finally got there, no thanks to Judy

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I decided to take the children to Wakehurst (sound the National Trust klaxon, she’s banging on about it again!) on Thursday to enjoy the spring sunshine and join the Hungry Caterpillar trail.

I’ve been there several times, but the roads aren’t familiar enough that I can confidently drive there without the help of my invisible friend – let’s call her Judy – in the phone.

Judy got me up the A23, and although there was a sign telling me to turn off for Wakehurst, I dutifully followed her directions and carried on up the road a little further to a different junction and down a country road.

Without sounding like too much of an old fogey, Katherine misses hard-copy maps

It was all going so well, and the miles to destination were dropping down. Then I came to a ‘road closed’ sign. Judy hadn’t forewarned me, and offered no advice as I approached the roundabout. I followed the yellow diversion sign that had been placed next to the road I should have been driving down, and retraced my journey down the little country road I’d just travelled on.

Judy finally decides to pipe up and tells me to keep going. No further diversion signs seem to be forthcoming, but I’m sure Judy will cleverly traverse this little blip in the journey.

Wrong! What Judy actually does is take me back to the roundabout at the A23 junction I’ve just come off of, and then takes me back down the country to the junction where the road is closed.

She’s had me fooled all along. She hasn’t got a clue what’s going on. The children have gone quiet in the back, until one of them pipes up and says ‘Mummy, I’m scared’.

In a voice that’s overly singsongy, I reassure the children this is all just part of the adventure, while fearing I may have to set up camp on the side of this country road for a few days until the roadworks are complete and wondering if one packet of Jammie Dodgers and some cheese baguettes will sustain us for the duration.

Thanks to the ‘wonders’ of sat nav, I have no idea where I am, because I didn’t bother to look at the route before I came. So, I decided to try another road. Judy helpfully tells me this will add yet more time to my journey, but at last we seem to be finding our way there again.

Until, that is, we take another turn at Judy’s request, and find another dreaded ‘road closed’ sign. Is Judy having a laugh? Is there some kind of Punk’d show for Google Maps users I don’t know about?

One of the children asks if we’ll have to go home now, but there’s not a chance I’m being beaten by technology.

So, without any help from Judes, I try yet another road, which eventually morphs into a road I recognise. We make it to Wakehurst 25 minutes later than planned, but victorious over my ‘smart’phone nemesis.

The moral of the story? Look at the map before you leave. And if Judy tries to help you, maybe ask for somebody else.

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