Our great escape: sea, sand and gin

On every second Tuesday We all go off in our bus. It’s meant to be a mystery trip;

It’s no mystery to us.

We wind up at the same old spot On every trip we take, A quiet visit to the zoo With time for tea and cake. We know all of the animals; Their birthplace, breed and names.

They all look just as bored as us Each trip is just the same. Our care home is a lovely place — They serve our every need, I just wish that they’d realise We need variety.

The more bolshie among us Think it’s time we made a stand, The staff quote ‘health and safety’ When we try to make demands.

Our next trip out is Tuesday week — We’re plotting our escape, We’ll take the bit between our teeth Before it gets too late. We’re all on board, clutching our bags Assistant Charlie, too, The driver, Ted, our usual one Plots our course to the zoo. We get around the corner And then Gladys calls out: ‘Stop!

‘I’ve left my pills and phone behind.

‘Out Charlie, off you hop.’

So Charlie legs it back to base.

By then we’ve nobbled Ted And threatened him with awful things Unless we go ahead.

We make him drive us to the coast And park up by the pier. We all agree to meet at six And then we disappear. Well, Glad and Doris, Joan and I All had a lovely day, We ate ice cream, drank ginger beer And paddled in the bay. Ate whelks and cockles on the pier Played bingo and drank gin, At five to six we found the bus And staggered our way in. Our driver, Ted, still muttering Made sure we all were there Then drove back, only stopping twice Got home with time to spare. Our Joan and Glad were pretty sick (They’d finished off the gin), The men were looking worse for wear As we all tumbled in. Matron gave us a dressing down With threats to kick us out, But her job so depends on us She needs us, there’s no doubt.

I think maybe they understand We need a change of scene. The days are long in twilight homes We crave variety.

So next month’s trip is advertised As ‘place to be arranged’, They’re asking for suggestions — That’s refreshing, for a change Glad and I put ‘theatre’ down, I’d like to see a show. Some others put down stately homes And Basil put ‘Soho’.

I think it’s much more likely That we’ll end up somewhere staid, A trip to some old manor house With tea and lemonade. If Basil does get Soho My name goes down like a shot;

That trip will be a pleasure Like most of us have forgot.

Lindsay Hartgroves, Launceston, Cornwall.