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Plus: Desperately Dating: When Wingwomen Go Bad Despite her cavalier attitude toward the less fair sex, she still bets me that if we went to a club together, she would walk home with more numbers. My grandmother is willing to go up to anyone and start flirting – hot men in Beverly Hills, the women who sell us knock-off handbags in Chinatown, the checkout boy at Wal-Mart.She is filled with compliments, and loving pats on the shoulder, which often fall on the intended victim’s chest.One day, he signed off our usual long-distance phone call with the words: ‘Miss you, Mum …Oh, by the way, we’re expecting a baby.’So in May 2010 our little Anwyn was born.Around the same time, my second son, who was living in New Zealand, revealed his own news.He’d gone off travelling in 2004, met his future wife and hadn’t come back.Plus: How to Give Relationship Advice Without Making Your Friends Hate You Though Nana, as she is known worldwide, is approaching octogenarian status, she looks far younger than the frosty-highlighted, pant-suited Ms. My grandmother wears Michael Stars knits and Prada heels.

I remember sneaking to listen in on their conversations and soak up all the juicy stories.Children giggle excitedly as they surround a computer, each one peering into the webcam, hoping to be the center of attention when the conversation begins.They’re enthralled and giddy when a face finally appears on the screen from halfway across the world yelling “hello! Skype, the closest thing to magic for these little ones, isn’t just used for a regular video call; it lets them chat with School in the Cloud’s Granny Cloud, a group of more than 100 e-mediators from around the world.Earlier this month, writer Dawn May revealed in the Mail her ‘agony’ at being a long- distance granny. In 2009, my life was lit up by our first granddaughter, Salome.The 4,000 miles that her son, daughter-in-law and grandson Luca have moved, to the town of Mwanda in Tanzania, ‘might as well be a million miles,’ she wrote.‘However over-dramatic it sounds, I have been going through a grieving process ever since they left.’ Her article generated an avalanche of letters from readers who, like Dawn, have experienced the pain of a distant grandchild’s absence. Here, ALISON ROBERTS shares some of those stories . At the time, my son was still in Britain and I rushed to see this gorgeous new child, with her smiling blue eyes. Four months later, my son and his wife, both academics, announced they were leaving for a new life in North Carolina.