This is the story of my great, great Aunty Rose, Mum’s great Aunty. I never met Aunty Rose so only have my late mother’s word on how she was – a right devil but with a kind heart and a thirst for culture! The more the audience hear Aunty Rose is ‘this’ and she’s ‘that’, the poem becomes sweeter and more sentimental, which is the nature of family dynamics. That hot cold hot cold energy: I hate my brother one day, love him the next.