Ageing sideways

I was never keen on this feminist poem by Jenny Joseph:

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

I didn't want to be that kind of old woman, I had no ambition to be an eccentric nuisance. I found the image of a wafer-thin , elegant Helen Mirren tossing cascades of platinum hair in a silver frock much more appealing. Or any woman in a sharp suit heading a FTSE company with a steely eye and a beautiful stiletto heel glinting with an unexpected diamond inlay. Or Judge Judy, with classic lace collar, filled with the wisdom of age and a wicked sense of humour

And now here I am, an old woman. How quick that was! I have no red hat, diamond stiletto, lace collar or platinum curtain of hair and that is fine. These things don't matter a jot. It is hugely liberating to be an old woman. I do not apologise any more for not being tall enough, thin enough, beautiful enough, elegant enough. My terrible sense of direction is part of my charm. My sense of humour amuses some people, and that is enough people for me. I know what I believe in and who I love.

I am enjoying myself in the last quarter of my existence, I gobble up new learning with gusto, without having to apply it later to a career -its just for the sheer joy of learning. I try new foods and new places but relax back with a happy sigh into familiar things when I want to. I dive into new projects without fear, and re-read old books I have had for years.

Now I am an old woman I shall wear what I like.

Ah! Jenny Joseph I get it now...