I thought I’d got the delights of the Somerset road system sussed. Bruton to Newton Park is 26 miles, so an hour and a quarter should be plenty to get to my tutorial. But I hadn’t reckoned with roadworks on a z-bend, on a hill, just below a busy 3-way junction. It took the best part of half an hour to inch forward to the point where I could see one of the two poor men operating Stop and Go signs in the lashing rain.

On the way back I got clever and tried a back road. Fine as far as Paulton. Then the  signs disappeared. Which way was Shepton Mallet? Take your pick. I had a nice little tour of the hamlets of the Mendips before seeing a road I recognised.

Then there’s the Shepton Mallet showground to avoid. Tesco’s was full of bright young things in wellies, stocking up for a fun-filled weekend.

I won’t be going anywhere. I’m too exhausted!

It took years of searching but finally we’ve found her! All credit to my big sister, Mary, who had the vision and determination to overcome all the obstacles.

For all three of us it’s been an emotional experience. Stirring up the past can be painful . You have to confront memories that you’d rather forget. The times that people have hurt or rejected you. The fear of being hurt or rejected again. You’re forced to acknowledge your own mistakes and weaknesses, too.

But when you start to see things from others’ point of view – what they’ve suffered, not only what you’ve suffered yourself – somehow your perspective shifts. You no longer want to apportion blame, but simply to understand. That we’re all human. We all make mistakes. And mistakes have consequences for ourselves and others.

But the story doesn’t have to end there. Understanding the past can free us to move on. And in the process we’ve gained more than we’ve lost.

In my case I’ve gained another sister – my little sister, Alison. I’m not the baby of the family any more. Now, that feels good!

Since I moved to South Somerset, shopping has been a bit of a puzzle. Where do people go? Bruton is fine for bread and milk and a few other basics, but don’t ask for a printer cartridge. Oh no, for that you have to go somewhere big like Frome. But actually Frome isn’t that big and it’s a good 12 miles away and once you get there you might wonder why you bothered.

Shepton Mallett is nearer and smaller, but at least it’s got a Tesco’s and a Boots, though not much else. The high street shops are mostly boarded up. Wells is a 15 mile journey and once there you might be forgiven for thinking you’ve arrived in a shoppers’ paradise. There’s actually a Waterstone’s and a few decent clothes shops, East for example and Fat Face. But not much else.

To find a Monsoon or a PC World or a Body Shop (of the human rather than the automobile variety – there are lots of those) you have to go to Bath or Taunton or Yeovil. Now they may not look far on the map, but via Somerset’s wonderfully windy roads, used by everything from heavy lorries to tractors, bicycles, learner drivers and elderly retirees, you’re talking about a good hour’s journey. Not to mention parking once you get there.

So I decided the best option was to shop online. Not ideal because you can’t see colours or try anything on, and although you can send things back it’s a hassle. And you might not be in when they’re delivered. But better than spending all that time in a car when I should be writing. So I ordered a pair of trainers and a Craghopper’s waterproof jacket and yes, they may not be quite what I wanted but they’ll do. But when it comes to Body Shop, online just doesn’t work. How can you choose foundations of lipstick or blushers from those little dots of colour?

And then suddenly it dawned on me. Street. The Clark’s Village. They’ve got a Body Shop. It may be 20 miles but at least there’s easy parking and I can get there in 40 minutes, more or less. I hadn’t been there for years, so I’d forgotten just how many shops there are. A shopaholic’s paradise. And guess what – there are whole shopfuls of trainers and Craghopper waterproofs much nicer than the ones I’d just bought!

And on the way back the traffic on the last roundabout was at a standstill. There must have been an accident. So I had to take a detour. Never mind, only another 5 miles and 15 minutes!

I used to moan about Barnstaple. But now I see that I was mistaken. In comparison with South Somerset, North Devon is truly a shopper’s paradise.

I’ve just been for a walk from Bruton to Milton Clevedon and Batcombe Bottom. I set out  in high spirits – beautiful crisp winter’s day with sun and not a breath of breeze. Views over the Somerset levels and back to King Alfred’s Tower and Stourhead woods. Then I got terribly lost despite having OS map and route instructions. Went off-course round three sides of a pheasant enclosure, came to a dead-end by a deep stream, and had to scramble through brambles then slide down a bank on my backside. Lost my woolly hat in the process and grazed my hand. But with the aid of the compass I got back on track and came out as planned at Spargrove. It’s a small hamlet with a wonderful cluster of medieval buildings: farm, chapel and manor house with moat and mill leat. Who says there aren’t steep hills in Somerset? Am now totally knackered and relaxing with my feet up and a cup of tea.