We're marking the half way mark with a quiet lady from West Meath. Annie was sure she wouldn't be able to tell us anything and like Mary Byrne, was regretting ever saying yes to the interview in the first place. But once more, her worries were misplaced. It is, I suppose, hard to imagine how stories of ambling about as a child could be any worth to anybody years later, but its these stories that we've actually set out to document in this film. Annie lives in a tiny little cottage with her dog Rusty who vets all visitors before bedding down next to the range. Once prompted about an aspect of her upbringing, Annie was able to give vivid recollections of the time, albeit shy. We're so happy that we're managing to find different kinds of women on the road, rather than the one outgoing, media-savvy grand-mother. Half way through our meeting with Annie, Patrick, her son came in to check-up on his mother. He was passing on his tractor and saw the strange car outside and came in to make sure she was OK. This is a remnant of an Ireland that used to exist. That would have been a very normal occurrance. I can't but think that it is somewhat of a luxury now if an older person has someone near them who can check in from time to time to make sure they are ok.