Auntie Dot was a small, roundish old Brummie woman with dark hair that had been set in rollers, thick rimmed glasses, a mole on one side of her face and a hearing aid in the opposite ear. My cousin once asked me if I would go to kiss her near the mole, or to risk feedback from the hearing aid. I never came up with a good solution to that little problem.
Auntie Dot was not my aunt, but my great aunt. She married Mum’s Uncle Stan and they never had children, but loved their nieces and nephews as though they were their own.