On Wednesday I drove to Bristol. Not so unusual perhaps, but I rarely drive so far. Part of the attraction of moving to North Devon was the delight of open roads and lanes and few dual carriageways.

So encountering so many sets of traffic lights in the city and waiting, it seemed, forever for them to change was quite a shock. It’s not as though city driving is new to me. At one time I used to know every bump and white line of the North Circular Road and would regularly drive around central London. I even came to know my way around Bracknell, the UK capital of roundabouts.

Perhaps I’m turning into the dreaded Sunday afternoon motorist?