Now I am an old -er woman

 

 

Warning

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

here anyway,

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

for food.

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.

Cait O’Connor