This blog post is a bit of a cheat as the majority of it was written by someone else, but I just wanted to share with you ONE of my favourite poems (I have many!).

I know many of you will recognise this. It was written by Jenny Joseph in 1932, when she was aged 29.

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 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.

It made me think about what sort of an older person I will be. My friend Michelle and I have always talked about still being friends then, and how we’d meet up in Marks and Spencers for a cup of tea (especially as she was the friend who introduced me to the wonderful hot beverage), and then clutch onto each other as we left, each keeping the other one upright. We see older ladies in town and discuss how that will be us one day. I imagine I’ll be quite like I am now, although maybe even more eccentric and quirky!

I’ll be one of those women who tut loudly and complain about ‘the youth of today’ and shake their walking stick at things that don’t please them. Actually, I’m more likely to get a mobility scooter at the first opportunity, and race up and down the road getting in everyone’s way.

Cream cakes will be my indulgence but I’ll be quite happy to share them with anyone who comes around to visit me. As I am now, I imagine I’d be quite happy in my own company but also love to meet up with friends for a chit-chat and catch-up. I hope that I would be caring and kind, and wouldn’t moan too much about my ailments. I’d like to think that I’d have grandchildren who I would spoil rotten.

But in the meantime, I’ll just be happy to be the age that I am. I really hated turning 30 but now I am quite happy to be 31. I feel much more content with who I am as a person than I did in my 20s. I may change my mind as even more wrinkles appear around my eyes and my joints start to ache, but at the moment I don’t mind the thought of getting older.