When I am an Old Woman
I shall wear purple with a red hat that doesn�t go
And doesn�t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and
Summer gloves and satin sandals
And say I�ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I�m
Tired, and gobble up samples in the shops
And press alarm bells and run my stick along public railing
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain and
Pick flowers in other people�s gardens
And learn to spit.
I can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat,
And eat three pounds of sausage and go on
Only bread and pickle for a week.
And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats and
Things in boxes
But now I must have clothes that keep me dry,
And pay my rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for children.
I will have friends to dinner and read the paper.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and
Surprised when suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.
- Jenny Joseph
My granny's a lot like this (in fact, I got the poem off a present Daddy gave her, a pin made of a little bright red hat), and as much as she and I don't tend to see eye to eye (despite being the same height), I hope to grow old like this too.
I'm feeling off-kilter today, people, and I need some sympathy. Someone get me a goddamn doughnut.
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