Truths about age and travel
It is not just for the sake of the grannies that we must share some hard facts about age and travel, many potential U3A members, SAGA affiliates and bus Freedom-pass-holders may also benefit.
The Riad B & B is an enchanting medieval luxury small manor/palace with amazing 18th & 19th century interior décor, delightful central yard, orange tree(s) and little fountain, but it is approx. 3-4 streets away from the nearest drivable road and probably requires walking up steep very narrow medieval cobbled alleys, uneven and pot-holed with stairways and slopes and steps worn down by centuries of passing donkeys and hand-carts, very narrow passageways, without pavements, unlit, with tunnels, tight dark corners, dead ends, private spaces and running drains.
With ischaemic heart failure and progressive arthritis, I don t mind the exercise of climbing back and forth from the taxi drop-off point. The problems are more with the donkey turds littering the cobbles, the hidden pot-holes in every dark corner, the missing kerbstone at the edge of a stairway, the hidden gutter, the gulley capstone, the sacks of sand & blinding laid on steps to smooth the way for carts wheels, the cart carrying heavy goods that bumps your ankles, the shoppers & workers rushing at you from every side, the careering little children racing the football down the alley, the youngsters hurrying in groups to school or college, the shop-keepers opening or closing their shutters & doors, the vendors selling soup out of doorways, the constant fear that something will inevitably trip you or skid you or hit you.
Please invent a new golf cart or tuk-tuk or motorised wheelchair to get the oldies to and fro in the medina.
DO NOT DESPISE the sensible modern hotels.
The search gains pace
Since we had so little success standing at the lamp post at the corner of the alley, waiting for certain grannies to come by, I decided to use more modern methods. Notably drilling down into the big data in the social media, which have been used to brain-wash so many grannies. Right away, I googled “missing grannies” and found 1,003,255 possibles.
Firstly we went deep into Facebook. There was a grannie who resembled Lagazelle, but not enough forensic info to nab her, she was looking for true love – which, you know, is hard to find.
Then we studied Afrique a du Talent, in depth, scanning for anyone like Meme Nannie Brock and I voted for a cool grandmother with brilliantine in her hair, but she was far older than our photofit target. Then suddenly it looked just like a vile scarlet woman, who preferred her personal gains from a land-grabbing Sodastream to any principles of justice and anti-apartheid, despite pleas from Oxfam and many NGOs, to do the right thing and terminate her sponsor role. Definitely NOT one of ours!
In desperation we went to YouTube, and it was jackpot time! There, starring right back at us, was the spitting image of Vovo Bloominpatch singing “Stay with me” mournfully with Adam Smith. We researched her agent on Google and sent her a volley of SMS contract offers to play the London Palladium or Las Vegas, but just come home grannybabycakes. The phone went direct to voicemail and the mailbox was full. Email bounced back : “no such number, no such name”.