THERE’S nothing quite like technology for underlining the difference between the generations, is there?

We’d embarked on our summer holiday from Teesside Airport, and landed on the island of Jersey, when my wife spotted a rack of free fold-out visitor maps near the exit.

“Quick – grab one,” she instructed, with a sense of urgency born out of fear that fellow passengers would quickly snaffle them all up and we’d be left stranded on the island.

She was certainly right about the impending rush. Like hungry gulls feeding on leftover fish and chips at the seaside, anyone with grey hair suddenly descended on the rack to make sure they didn’t take another step into Jersey without the security of a fold-out map.

Our youngest, now 26, looked on with incredulity. “What are they all doing?” he asked, shaking his head in genuine bemusement at the scene before him.  “It’s all on here!” he added, slipping his phone out of his pocket.

The Northern Echo:

As we waited for our luggage to appear on the carousel, I watched one elderly woman check out her new map by half unfolding it, having a peek, then closing it again. She repeated this manoeuvre three times, like an accordion player warming up to give us a tune. I can only assume it was a reassuring test of the map’s usefulness before she risked going any further.

In my wife’s case, it’s not even that she’s a dinosaur when it comes to technology. She frequently uses Google Maps on her phone to help get her to places, but she still likes to have a printed map as back-up.

As soon as we’d booked into our apartment and unpacked, the map was spread out on the dining table to check the location of the brightly-coloured crazy golf course we’d seen from the air as we flew onto the island. She also wanted to plot a route to the takeaway pizza restaurant that had been most highly recommended by Trip Advisor – on her phone.

“I like to see it all laid out in front of me – you can’t do that on your phone,” she explained to our youngest who continued to be perplexed by her curious cartographic contortions.

As for me, I’ve long since decided to be a follower rather than a leader when it comes to maps. As someone sadly lacking in the sense-of-direction department, I go where I’m told, irrespective of whether we’re being guided by a bouncing red dot on a phone, or trying to hang on to a kite-like fold-out map on a wind-swept street.

I happen to think it’s a strength to know your limitations in life, and I’ve never been able to work out how to get fold-out maps to return to their original form. In my hands, they end up bulging in places they shouldn’t.

And, most importantly, if you assume the position of being a follower, you can’t be held responsible if you get lost, which is what happened on the morning we set off for our game of crazy golf on the other side of the island.

Having used her fold-out map on day one to see where the course was, my wife now relied on her phone to direct us through the local streets to the bus station.

When it took us the wrong way, and we had to run for our bus, she immediately knew who to blame: “You stupid bloody phone – you don’t know what you’re doing!” she told it with a stare of admonishment.

Fold habits die hard...

THE THINGS THEY SAY

AHEAD of Father’s Day, our six-year-old granddaughter, Chloe, asked her dad what he might like.

"Nothing special Chloë,” he replied, “I’d quite like a lie-in, maybe."

"Oh," she exclaimed, looking a bit scared, before asking, "Where would we keep it?"

WHILE watching Robin Hood, Chloe turned to her dad and asked, “Dad? Could get a bow and arrow one day?”

“Yes, if you’d like to,” came the reply.

“I wouldn’t shoot animals though!” the six-year-old vegetarian quickly clarified. “Just targets.”

As Robin skilfully fired another arrow at the baddies, she thoughtfully added: “And my enemies.”

WITH the summer holidays arriving, Chloe’s looking forward to some rest and relaxation after an exhausting school year.

“I’m glad it’s finally summer,” she said.

“I can do summersaults again.”