With apologies to Jenny Joseph
Now I am an old –er woman I wear a lot more purple.
I have no summer gloves and keep only medicinal brandy.
I have no satin sandals, actually I have no sandals but my shoes always have to be red.
I don’t eat butter as a rule (but some food like scones and Irish soda bread just have to
have it I agree).
I am a big lover of hats, all types for all seasons and hope that they suit me.
(Bandanas are starting to appeal, they also cover the grey).
I would never sit on a pavement and don’t believe you would either, not the ones round
I haven’t got a stick....yet... but would enjoy the rattling of one very much, I am sure.
My youth was not that sober if I remember it well.
I spend all my pension on bird food, books and plants and then I say we have no money
I nap when I’m tired or whenever my bed calls me.
I often rant and rage; becoming a revolutionary seems very appealing.
I despair about standards and the idiots in charge, the corruption, the greed, you know
what I mean.
I despise authority even more than when I was young – er.
I love soft, comfy clothes and sensible shoes.
I am happiest in the garden, planting flowers or pulling up weeds or browsing in a bookshop
(or a library!)
I love walking in the rain (but not in my slippers), talking to animals, singing and
penning my words.
I very much relish going to bed with a book and a mug of cocoa.
I hate anyone who spits and would never steal flowers from other folk’s gardens.
I can eat what I like, when I like, stay up half the night and lie in bed all day.
I only get lost in a book or listening to music.
I am still allowed out on my own.
I only hoard books, have no real vices but I spend too much time on the net.
I have given up reading the papers.
I swear, but never in the street.
I am close to becoming a hermit, a mad woman who lives on the hill.
I hope I am not a bad example to the grandchildren.