Tag Archive | warning

Purple Patch

Heeding some good advice, today I have spent the morning making something just for fun. I happened to have a set of my favourite IKEA Moppe mini-drawers waiting to be upcycled, and I raided my Decopatch stash, found some handles and Hey Presto! I have a new set of purple Drawers!



Warning – When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple

By Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple

with a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

and satin candles, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I am 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 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 pickles for a week

and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts 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.



When I get old, no way am I wearing purple..

You may be aware of a lovely poem by Jenny Josephs called “Warning”, the first line being “When I am an old woman I shall wear purple….”. I love this poem but have been meaning to rewrite it for a while now as I have ideas of my own for when I get old.  Here is my version;


When I get old I shall buy the biggest, reddest mobility scooter I can find.

And drive it recklessly around Sainsbury’s and make everyone jump out of the way and spend my pension on a CB radio and monster ariel to go with it.

And sit in the park interfering with the emergency radio frequencies, drinking vodka wrapped in Tesco bags and say we have no money for Sky Sports.

I will ride my scooter along pavements and down one-way streets the wrong way and when I am tired I will crash into fences and lamposts and not give a hoot.

I will honk my horn at anyone who gets in the way and make up for all those years with “nil points” on my licence.

I shall go out on my scooter in the rain and terrorise pedestrians by splashing through puddles  and will hog the commuter lane during rush hour.

I will wear polyester trousers and floral blouse with my Hushpuppies and visit the Post Office and Sandwich Bar ONLY at lunchtimes.

I will take ages to count my pension and order my stamps and I will be dithery and confused and hold up queues of workers in their lunch hour before popping into Argos to pinch those lovely blue pens which match the red ones I get from the Bookies.

But now I can only plot my revenge and must behave myself until the time comes.

I must talk to my friends on Facebook and read “The Rules of Work” from cover to cover.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now so that you won’t be surprised and shocked when I am arrested for “Driving my buggy under the affluence of incohol”.