26 October 2010

Growing old…gracefully?

Norway 707As we got off the cruise ship at Molde, a lady caught both my friends and my eye. At the risk of sounding ageist…she was, I would say, a senior citizen…maybe in her seventies.

Enchantingly dressed…what with matching shoes, bag, hat and  chunky jewelry.  A designer haircut – top half of her hair were naturally grey, she seemed to have dyed the lower part a black!

I would say… dressed to kill.  

My ideal…that's how I would like to age. It reminded me of a poem that a friend forwarded some time back.

Warning – Jenny Joseph

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 sandles, 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 my slippers in the rain
And pick 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 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.

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