My maiden aunt, a chronic romantic, thought radio agony aunt Frankie Byrne was too “Jack Blunt". The lovelorn, jilted, desperate, strung-along, strung-out women who wrote to her radio show, were often given advice so practical it amounted to radical DIY surgery of the heart.
They were told to cut and run; to abandon all hope; that men were deceivers ever.
This didn't suit my aunt, who had her own impossible intrigue with someone she...
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