Most of my childhood holidays were spent in Ramsgate as we could stay cheaply with Nan's mother, a deceptively sweet-looking old lady.
One summer when Nan and I arrived at Great Gran's flat after the lengthy trip from Oxford to Kent we were greeted by the lovely, greasy aroma of roast lamb.
'That smell's good,' says Nan enthusiastically - it being sometime since we'd eaten our banana sandwiches.
Great Gran smiles indulgently 'I always do Pépé a couple of lamb chops on a Saturday, don't I my darling boy?'
Great Gran's small grey poodle wags his stumpy tail. 'If you two are peckish I think the Chippie is still open.'