This may not be the kindest way to discuss my maternal grandmother, but pondering does not always go the way of acceptability or indeed kindness. On a positive note I cleared the algae off this photo before using it.

For good pondering I also need to flip and tweak.

I have outlived my own mother for four years and in the last year we have bought a high magnification illuminated make-up mirror.

As I peered into the mirror one mornng I looked close up at my soft but craggy cheeks. Skipped a generation and thought how alike my face was to my Nana’s. This is no bad thing, I adored my grandmother and kissing her softly wrinkled cheek was always a pleasure. Her cheeks were velvety and yielding, and smelled of glamour. She ran two businesses,smoked elegantly and constantly and always looked like Lucille Ball.

Men couldn’t help themselves and neither could she. In her seventies she moved to Melbourne in Australia. Pastures new and different men to captivate. Welsh Valleys , the flatlands of Essex and finally an Australian city. All changes made when her allure required her to move on.

My cheeks have not lived the life of my Nana’s. My mother very much disapproved of  her  ‘antics’. I was directed, encouraged and obediently followed a different path.

But a small child knows nothing of such adult stuff . Kissing a soft cheek that smells faintly of smoke, good cosmetics and a gin and tonic was a safe and exotic harbour for me.

I was aghast when my own wrinkles were laid bare by the new mirror but also charmed that in some small way my grandmother had returned to me.

Google is a funny old thing. The pub my grandparents ran is long gone and has changed from the robust name of the Red Cow to the rather generically cute Daisy Cottage.

Google found an old Christmas card sent by the publicans.

And a Historic England listing.

So much to enjoy from wrinkles. Botox will never be as interesting.