As Mrs M and I approach our 29th wedding anniversary, I feel it’s time for some reflection.

Early on in our marriage, we agreed to share responsibility for the various tasks involved in raising a family.

I was assigned the role of chief driver whenever we travelled, even though, to be fair, my wife is a better driver than I am (although I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell her I said so).

My responsibilities as family chauffeur, however, don’t come without their share of challenges.

It seems – and the female members of my family are in agreement on this – that I don’t drive in a way that meets with their approval.

I either drive too slowly, or I travel too fast. I either park too near, or I park too far away.

And so it is that I have developed a thick skin when it comes to car-related comments. I normally reply with “when you are driving, you can park wherever you want,” or something similar.

Still, our trips are accompanied by a set of regular encouraging remarks – “watch that car”; “the lights are turning red”; “I am sure the other way would be quicker”.

In recent months, a new phrase has been added – largely due to the fact that my advancing years seems to have brought a small amount of hearing loss. The phrase is, in fact, just a single word: “indicator”.

My problem is not helped by the fact that the steering wheel seems to be inconveniently positioned to obscure the indicator light from view.

Last week, we have had some of our dearest friends over for a few days. It was good to catch up and we spent many happy hours putting the world to rights, safe in the knowledge that we had no responsibility for having to put our ideas into operation.

During our trips out, I reverted to type and took up my usual position behind the wheel. Mrs M offered her help by reminding me that the colour red meant stop. Daughter number two considerately added some advice about the correct use of bus lanes.

Eventually, encouraged by my wife and daughter’s wise words, our female friend joined the panel of driving experts. She seemed to think that I might have forgotten how to use roundabouts.

I looked across at her husband for support and he raised his eyes in acknowledgement of my dilemma. We said nothing, but I was comforted by the fact that he understood.

When we arrived at our destination, he offered me the greatest sign of solidarity by turning up the volume on the CD player in order to drown out the help offered by the back-seat panel.