I SHALL WEAR PURPLE!

[Karan]:  Here we are with another May Day nearly upon us, and it'll soon be Christmas again! 

Is it just me or is time screaming past us at a rate of knots?  It doesn't help that our daughter asks me everyday how old I am - surely I'm supposed to be the one whose mind is wondering, why doesn't she remember my answer: does she enjoy seeing the grimace she extracts from me every time she asks?  The little darling even asked me recently what we used in "the olden times, before you had cars"!  Now that took my breath away, and I couldn't help but laugh; the cheeky little Minx.  I will defend our little beauty because she is only six, and has no real comprehension of age - but that defence won't wash the older she gets!

I was told on my 21st birthday - all those years ago - that time would now zip past more quickly than it had done previously for me.  In my youthful immortal arrogance however, I believe my urbane response to this sincerely given guidance was "PAH!".  I've always had a way with words.  Now staring down the barrel of my 102nd birthday, I can see the truth behind this statement.  No, I'm not really 101 - although there are many, many days I feel like it, but it is fair to say that I'm gradually being introduced to the limitations of impending middle-age. 

I've got to the stage now where if I bend down to pick something up off the floor, I ask myself what else I can be doing whilst I'm down there.  There are also the involuntary "oohs" and "aahhs" when kneeling or attempting to stand up again, because these are the things my knees need solemn notice for nowadays.  And whilst it's true that time marches on, it's only when you begin to mature a little, that you realise that it's marching all over your face: laughter lines?  Laughter lines?  Hmmm, nothing's that funny, now is it?!

I shall not be defeated.  I have adopted the attitude that it is better to grow old than die young, and it is clear that God does not consider me "good", because I'm still here at this ripe old age - must've been that rampant weekend in 1992 wot dunnit, but that's a story for another day.  Or not.  And I always have the kindly checkout lady at Tescos to fall back on when I'm feeling particularly decrepit, because she took ten years off me last Saturday; I was thrilled! 

My next big birthday will be a belter where I will behave badly and start to wear purple!  Kettering, you have less than 12 months to prepare, but you have been warned so stand well back.  It's good to be alive, whatever condition your knees are in, and we should embrace everyday as a gift to be enjoyed to the full.

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 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 sobrietry 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 pickles for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats 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.

By Jenny Joseph