My two grandmothers were poles apart. My Mum's mother was a true grandma - grey hair in a bun, an ample bosom, fierce love and harsh criticism in equal measure. She served custard from a bowl and sliced parchment-thin bread and butter (tip: butter the loaf before cutting the slice). We spent half our school summer holidays at New Milton Grandma's, where we had beaches and the New Forest for our entertainment. 

My Dad's mother, in contrast, was not a grandma. Despite the best efforts of my sister and me, she remained resolutely Simona;