She’s heavy and sagging in the thighs and the belly, gray-haired, certainly not in her first youth. She snores, wets herself when she laughs, farts in her sleep, sweats in her sleep so the blanket needs washing. Sometimes she farts and wets herself when she comes. Right now, she urgently needs to change the clout cloth between her legs.
She’s very fond of beer. She’s terrible at baking. She likes sewing her children’s clothes. She once got so drunk at a party she couldn’t look after her children the next day. She tells fine bedtime stories. Her greatest delight in life is walking over wet grass to fetch the cows in.