25th November. Born 1915

I speak to Mother over the mobile networks whilst gazing out of the window of another half decorated flat.

"It's very grey here" she says staring, I presume, through the windscreen of my brothers Vauxhall, at the Irish Sea.

"It's a typical November day" I reply.

"We're just having some sardine sandwiches on the front"

I immediately think Acid Reflux but Mother doesn't know what heartburn is even at ninety-two.

In-credible!