There’s Hope for Us All

For the Love of Ada

We were having a quiet drink and admiring the semi-clad totty in Café S Bar opposite the town beach, when an elderly couple called Morris and Edna struck up a conversation. Morris is the strong silent type which was just as well as he couldn’t get a word in edgeways. Full of life Edna has an infectious laugh and reminded me of the late, fabulous Irene Handl, an amazing British film and TV actress whose career spanned sixty years until her death in 1987. Irene was a feisty lady. Responding to a director who was trying to explain the motivation of her character in a play she said, ‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a fuck.’

Morris and Edna are lodging in Gümbet and had ventured into Bodrum for a gander. They live in separate sheltered housing schemes, she in London, he in Wales. They met on the internet and are at it like geriatric rabbits. Apparently, Edna can’t bend over to adjust her corn plasters without Morris trying to take her from behind. Marvellous. There’s hope for us all.

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Because I’m Worth It

I’m slightly perturbed by the slow but steady ascent of grey mane colonising my head. I have long been used to white short and curlies sprouting from my pubis which I have always managed to control with judicious pruning. However, there is little I can do to mask this more obvious sign of my impending decrepitude other than a rejuvenating brunette rinse – because I’m worth it.