DAZED and confused – that's how we'll be on the roads this spring.

We knew there were going to be roadworks, of course – it's Sevenoaks, it's April, it's time to roll out the temporary traffic lights and polish up our Zen for the jams ("I am calm, I am in control, I am not worried about having five minutes to get to Homebase before it closes").

So it's no surprise to drive along a major road and find a yellow notice that warns "Major Road Works, March 18 for Three Weeks, Expect Delays".

You start doing a bit of mental arithmetic to work out if this takes you to the Easter weekend, but then you turn another corner and there's another yellow notice. "Road Works, This Road Will Be Closed 9pm-7am from March 23 for Six Weeks, Expect Delays."

"Damn," you think, straining to remember if you get back from Yoga before 9pm.

"Which alternative route should I take?"

And then you turn onto another road and a new yellow notice leaps into view.

"Major Road Works, Road Closed April 9 and 10, Expect…"

Delays, yes, yes, you're resigned to delays, but how are you actually supposed to get around town?

I mean, you're trusting that they've actually co-ordinated things and made sure there's a way through, and won't leave you circling the Bradbourne Lakes in a state of growing panic and dwindling fuel.

I'm sure it's all been planned with care by a squadron of operational researchers with a pack of highlighter pens, and eventually someone will take away the cones and leave us free to drive wherever we like on deliciously smooth roads.

But Sevenoaks, our problems don't end there.

Have you noticed how faded our road markings are?

A lot of our roads look as if they were last painted in 1978.

In fact, some of the white lines might well have been left in place by the Romans – sandal prints, such a giveaway.

There are some junctions where it's not clear whether the patchy hieroglyphics represent a STOP sign or a helicopter landing pad.

Many double yellow lines have dissolved into intermittent ochre splodges.

A friend who lives in Shipbourne told me months ago about an entertaining phenomenon he'd spotted in his area – the mosaic marking.

Since then, the practice seems to have spread.

It works like this: Someone drills a trench in the road – through a turn left arrow or a hatching grid, say – and then makes good by levelling the surface and painting back the marking.

Not the whole marking, of course, but just the bit where their hole has been.

The result is an arrow where much of it is faded and indecipherable, and parts of it are bright, lurid white.

This technique generates roads that look as if they've been rune-marked by elves and leaves a well-intentioned driver wondering if she's supposed to get into a filter lane or train her car to do dressage.

If we get anywhere this spring, it'll be a miracle.

See you round the Bradbourne Lakes.