I’ve at all times beloved this poem, an ode to non-comformity, by the Scottish author Jenny Joseph:
When I’m an outdated girl I shall put on purple
With a crimson hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t swimsuit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer season gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no cash for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement once I’m drained
And gobble up samples in outlets and press alarm bells
And run my stick alongside the general public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall exit in my slippers within the rain
And choose flowers in different individuals’s gardens
And study to spit.
You possibly can put on horrible shirts and develop extra fats
And eat three kilos of sausages at a go
Or solely bread and pickle for every week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and issues in bins.
However now we should have garments that maintain us dry
And pay our lease and never swear on the street
And set instance for the youngsters.
We should have associates to dinner and browse the papers.
However possibly I should practise a bit now?
So individuals who know me usually are not too shocked and stunned
When out of the blue I’m outdated, and begin to put on purple.
I’ve reached the age that now I’m fairly glad I took her recommendation and practiced a bit once I was youthful, so now of us usually are not too shocked. My neighbors know I’m innocent and so they don’t want to cover their youngsters, although they could sadly shake their heads and say “poor Karen” once I journey by on my recumbent or stride by with my Nordic poles or handweights.