When I was at school in the early 1960s, I always passed my Great Aunt Vera’s place on the way home. She had a small shop and, whenever I called in, she would always have cakes and sweets that were past there sell-by date but good enough to eat anyway. But I had another reason for stopping by. I’d discovered that she would often do her ironing wearing just her underwear. I used to try to arrive on wash day, when she had all her panties and slips hanging on the line to dry. I
