It's an evocative title for all its simplicity, and this probably is enough to draw many women to see the play.

However, any hope for inspiration from a wiser generation, or women of a certain age who combat ageist stereotypes, is dashed early on.

Regrettably, the ladies’ tedious banter tends to confirm the suspicion that behind every glamorous grandmother there’s a has-been who reminisces of halcyon days to prove that once there was more to her than meets the eye, while now only the nursing home, a broken hip or death looms.

Whilst Penzotti penned the play as a tribute to a woman who inspired him over 30 years, the characters lack depth although they do, fortunately, amuse, memorably shunning the choice of clothes made for them for eternity.

The set, limited to a tree, two benches and wastebin, was surprisingly effective, with the changes of the seasons represented by some clever lighting changes.

Roller-skaters and walkers with baby “strollers” cross the stage intermittently and work well to denote scene changes.

While some of the actors have seen better days – Lorraine Chase was perhaps more at home in the 1970s Campari ads than here as a New York widow – they do generally satisfy their audience.