Swanage. Don't look for it on a map; you won't find it.
Tony and I are staying with a friend of my mom's, who happens to be staying with her 400-year-old mother Madge. That's her name. Madge.
She's a cross between Mrs. Doubtfire and any number of the old women Michael Palin played on Flying Circus, and her memory is, well, sub-standard. If I
(
Read more... )