My mother was a staunch member of the Women's Institute in the village where she lived the last thirty-five years of her life. This poem is about an incident that took place at about the same time as the Watergate scandal in the United States.
She flicks the switch, the room is bugged.
She smiles to think the girls she’s hugged
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W.I. :) = Witche's Institut :) Where there are too many women in one place it often happens like this :) The tension in the air is well expressed, the liking for the main personage is mixed with kind of lenience, with an indulgent smile by the author. It is an uncommon tribute to the mother, an entertaining retrospection to the past. The short dialogue between the mother and the daughter makes it vivid.