Warning

Since yesterday I am "officially old."  That is I am 65.  So have taken a new motto, so to speak.  It is Jenny Joseph's poem "Warning."  So watch out if I start wearing purple too often.

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple 

With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me. 

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves 

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired 

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells 

And run my stick along the public railings 

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in the slippers in the rain 

And pick the flowers in other people's gardens 

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat 

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go 

Or only bread and pickle for a week 

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry 

And pay our rent and not swear in the street 

And set a good example for the children. 

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now? 

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised 

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.