Wearing purple
I have spent most of this year crying at the news. It all began with Tunisia, and went on with that poor girl and bride Micheala Harte, whose father was a bearer of the coffin of Ronan Kerr the policeman killed by the car bomb. In between that there has been the tsunami and earthquake. And the radiation. All of the Arab Spring. Then there was the sudden death of a teacher in the school. All in all it has been a pretty tragic three months really.
I don’t know what it is with the world.
We had a dinner with a friend and his wife last night. I cooked some siow bak, from the Asian market. It was such lovely looking bak, that i had to buy it.
My dad has told me that i cannot say very frank things now. I am 40 and i can’t say what i really think. It’s a bit depressing. I’m thinking of banning him from the blog. I remember when i was a kid he used to say, be careful the kinds of photographs you take, they might come back to haunt you. Well you know, i’m sort of an age where these things really don’t matter any more.
So here my answer to my dad...that wonderful poem 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.
So i am simply practising, ok.
I don’t know what it is with the world.
We had a dinner with a friend and his wife last night. I cooked some siow bak, from the Asian market. It was such lovely looking bak, that i had to buy it.
My dad has told me that i cannot say very frank things now. I am 40 and i can’t say what i really think. It’s a bit depressing. I’m thinking of banning him from the blog. I remember when i was a kid he used to say, be careful the kinds of photographs you take, they might come back to haunt you. Well you know, i’m sort of an age where these things really don’t matter any more.
So here my answer to my dad...that wonderful poem 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.
So i am simply practising, ok.
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