Strange as it may seem, under my brash, ebullient exterior, I’m quite shy. I don’t like talking about myself. That is why I wrote about my old mate “Nanny Ab” in my comic travel memoirs “Four Go Mad in Catalonia“. If you haven’t read it yet, please use this code WG26K to grab a free copy. This offer is open until our anniversary, 29th Sept.
You may notice that Nanny Ab shares some character traits with me but I can be more objective about her. I dislike starting every sentence in a book with “I” “me” or “my”. I can even be very critical on the subject of her less admirable side.
While on my travels this time, I got to thinking that the last holiday which went pear-shaped ended up in a rather funny book. Badger said I could call this one “Slow Van to Slovenia” which amused me and then I transposed Nanny Ab into some of the situations, realising that she would have handled them much better than me. Almost immediately she squidged up on the seat next to me and began to join in. She’s like that, one of Nature’s born enthusiasts but woe betide anyone who doesn’t like her suggestions.
“Good one! Hoi You could use me as your double in your memoirs! That would mean writing in the third person and being nasty about me too.” Blunt, see? Blunter than a cheap café knife.
I had to admit that if I were writing honestly it would be far easier to write my memoirs with Nanny Ab as my stunt-double in the “less-than-admirable” situations. She warmed to the theme and dug me in the ribs with her bony elbow. “Here! Even the title would suit! Nanny Ab Knits With Eels That was the working one, wunnit?”
I had to smile – yes, she is a loveable rogue and her heart is in the right place. How could I refuse her when she has got me out of a few sticky moments by saying it was her, not me. And yes, if you notice a slight resemblance to an existing imaginary character…that comes not from me but from everyone who knows the other, more famous one, asking if I were the inspiration for her. No, I don’t think so, but Nanny Ab would probably go off on a long tale of how she met Sir T and gave him the idea. It was her, not me.