Lord help me, I couldn’t help but send this along.
My brother David dug it up out of god knows where in the autumn of my debacle with Rogers Wireless.
Isabelle was a much beloved hoot. The campiness of the whole thing would have tickled her pink.
Our only trepidation in including it in the package was our awareness that Isabelle was a wild woman, completely unconventional for her time. “Let’s just hope,” my brother said, “that she didn’t sleep with him, for lord’s sake.”
