For Egyptians living abroad
Everything you'd do for them, if you were there.
You'd call the pharmacies yourself. You'd check the price before agreeing. You'd take her to the appointment and wait with her. You're not there — so one person, the same person every time, does it the way you would. And shows you all of it.
You already know the feeling.
His ID expired. The renewal office opens at eight, and the queue starts forming at six.
Her blood pressure tablets have been out of stock for two weeks. She's asked the two pharmacies she knows.
The air conditioning failed in July. She was quoted three times the real price, because she was on her own.
You call every single day. It still isn't the same as being there.
A brother would have sorted it. A daughter would have made the calls. That's not a failure on your part — you moved, and life is where you are now. But somebody still has to do it.
The difference is who's doing it, and how.
The same person. Every time.
Not a call centre and not whoever is free that day. One assistant your mother knows by name, who learns which pharmacy she trusts and that she doesn't like being rushed. Continuity isn't a feature here. It's the whole thing.
Done the way you would do it.
We don't accept the first quote. We call fifteen pharmacies, not three. We check the price before agreeing to the repair. The standard is simple: would you be satisfied if you'd done it yourself?
And you see all of it.
Every request, every receipt, every visit — written down and sent to you. You should never have to ask whether something actually happened.
What we take care of
Wherever they are
Finding the medicine that's out of stock
When a prescription disappears from the shelves, we call pharmacies until we find it and get it delivered. We find what the doctor prescribed — we never suggest a substitute. That's a conversation for the doctor.
A monthly rhythm they can follow
The same days each month: bills paid, staples delivered, prescriptions refilled before they run out, mobile bundle renewed. Written out plainly, in large print, on their fridge — so nothing depends on remembering.
Ordering the things they can't order
Groceries, pharmacy deliveries, anything on the apps. They tell us on the phone, in their own words. We handle the screen.
A car, and the name of who's driving it
“A silver Hyundai, plate 457, the driver is Mahmoud, he'll be outside in six minutes.” The problem was never getting into a car. It was the app.
The twenty phone calls
The internet is down and the support queue is forty minutes long. The specialist's clinic only answers between two and four. The delivery never arrived. We sit on hold so they don't have to.
Nobody takes advantage of them
“Someone called saying my pension is suspended — is it real?” “They want six thousand for the boiler. Is that fair?” Ask us before anything is agreed or paid.
The family file
One document, always current: medications, doctors, blood type, insurance, ID and meter numbers, who to call. When something happens at three in the morning and four siblings are awake in three time zones, it's already written down.
Keeping them close
Setting up the phone. Fixing WhatsApp when it stops working. Making sure the video call to the grandchildren actually connects.
And when someone needs to be standing there
The paperwork nobody can do from abroad
National ID and licence renewals, the pension office, the notary, property admin. We stand in the queue so your father doesn't have to.
Repairs, without the markup
We find the plumber, the electrician, the AC technician. We agree the price before anything starts, and we're physically there while the work happens.
Getting them where they need to be
Someone collects them, takes them to the appointment, waits, and brings them home. Not a stranger from an app.
Being there on the day
Flowers on her birthday, delivered by a person rather than a courier. Someone at the house on Eid, from you.
You should never have to wonder.
Trusting someone with your parents is a serious thing to ask, and we don't expect it on faith. So everything is written down and sent to you — not because you asked, but because that's how it works.
- One WhatsApp thread with your named assistant — and your brothers and sisters, if you want them in it.
- Every request written down: what was asked, what was done, and when.
- Photographs of deliveries and completed repairs, without being asked.
- Every receipt, itemised, with a running total against your monthly allowance.
- A written summary at the end of each month: what happened, what it cost, what's coming.
What we are not
We are not a care service, and we won't pretend otherwise. We don't provide nursing or personal care, we don't administer or advise on medication, and we're not an emergency service. If your parents need medical help, they need a doctor — not us.
We also never ask for, and will never accept, banking passwords or security codes sent to their phone. Anyone who does — including someone claiming to be us — is not to be trusted.
Two plans
Nothing to pay today. These are the prices we expect to launch at — the first families to join will keep their rate for a full year.
Essentials
Everything we can do from a phone.
£35
per month, billed quarterly
- Medicine hunting and prescription refills
- The monthly rhythm — bills, staples, renewals
- Ordering, transport booking, chasing providers
- Price and scam screening, any time
- The family file, kept current
- £25 a month of expenses included
Family
Most familiesEverything, including someone physically there.
£95
per month, billed quarterly
- Everything in Essentials
- Government paperwork and queues
- Vetted repairs, supervised in person
- Accompanied appointments
- Visits for birthdays and Eid
- £60 a month of expenses included
Tell me about your family
This takes about ninety seconds. I'm starting with a small group of families so I can get this genuinely right, and I read every reply myself.