A girl of seventeen

Ma mere, in the early days of the war, presumably 1940, she is 85 now and still has that truculent, independent look of an irish colleen on her face, and six years before I was born. She starts to grow frail and angry that she can't do things, like work in the garden, still feels as though she is in her twenties but now trapped in a body that is is less cooperative than it was ...