My old Reg has no idea where he is in the world. He’s absolutely hopeless at navigation, always has been, always will be. That’s just how he is. It used to frustrate me when we were younger and he’d take an age poring over maps and directions – I’m a dragon, I’ll find the way, don’t worry! But if I rushed him, Reg was left uncomfortable and restless, with a constant sense of having forgotten something, so I have learned to stop rushing him.
Nowadays I find it more satisfying to help him find his way. The going is often more fun than arriving, and the planning more exciting than the conclusion. It’s better to do five wonderful trips than ten rushed ones, so if Reg wants to take a morning to get his bearings, I’ll gladly spend the morning sunbathing while he flies the route in his mind. In some ways, he gets to do the adventure twice; once in his mind, and then again on the wing.