When I was a child I had an old Aunty Maggy who used to terrify me by holding my hand very tight when we crossed the road. I was terrified we would be run down because, as I said, Maggy was very old, slow and fat. The kind of aunty who is not one's real aunty but a close family friend. She had far too much hair on her face but a heart of gold and she cared for me, I know that much is true. There the comparison ends . . . . but it is strange, an often makes me smile . . .

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