Warning

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.

- Jenny Joseph (1961)

This poem by Jenny Joseph has always made me feel that there is an element of truth in it. 

So alright, I am already fairly old but there's no way that I'd eat three pounds of sausages or indeed any sausages. I already wear a lot of purple and I sometimes get an overwhelming feeling to shock, though I never do. I hoard pencils and things in boxes and sometimes go out to the bin in my slippers on a rainy day.

I wonder how long it will be before I start to do the other things as well?

Maybe everyone had better watch out.


Is there an element of this poem in you?