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Calamities of Ageing

Posted in Personal Blog

This morning I had to hunt around for my glasses when I finally had to admit to myself that I had to wear the damn things or put up with not being able to see with any clarity.
This revelation was brought to me by the attempt at reading the washing machine cleaning fluid instructions ~ or should I say struggling to make any words out of the black blurred fuzz that was before my eyes. Once found and perched upon my nose it was really quite astounding at how the fuzz transformed into words – ones that I could read ~ although still not quite as clearly as I would like, I could still decipher their meaning.  Why were they not “working” as they should are you wondering ~ I am currently awaiting my new glasses as my eye test a week ago has proven further deterioration of my sight and I now need to wear glasses for everything it would seem other than walking!  Having the opportunity to purchase new glasses allowed me to select a fabulous pair of purple frames which typically for me are out of stock and so should be with me in approximately a fortnight (I shall share with you a picture of their gloriousness when they arrive), so until then I am making do with my old weaker prescription glasses.
Anyhoo, I had also made the decision to grow out my hair and go for something softer, more genteel and feminine, going for the just below shoulder length look.  Again, for me, this is not a good look ~ the growing out thing ~ it seems that only my fringe is growing at any speed and so I have been left with hair over my nose at the front and the only solution is to push it back with a Alice Band, not worn since my primary school days!  To say that I feel slightly odd and vulnerable now is an understatement, I am so used to hiding behind my long fringe that it feels quite odd to no longer have that security.  
I am a forty~five year old woman with scraped back Alice Band hair and glasses, not a look I had foreseen going for and gives me quite a shock whenever I catch a glance of myself in any reflective surface. I feel I have a look reminiscent of that of the vintage cartoon Dangermouse and the character Penfold ~ what do you think?
So today I am going to go out and purchase some brighter purple hair dye as the one I currently use is rather dark and subtle.  It won’t make me look much different but being a huge lover of the purple I will catch glimpses of it and it will make me smile.  Furthermore, when my purple glasses arrive I shall feel even more confident within myself ~ as that is the power of the purple!
I adore this poem by Jenny Jospeh called Warning, if you click on the photograph below it will take you to the youtube video where you can hear the lady herself read it for you (I couldn’t work out how to get the link to work to put it into my blog for you).

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.
The calamities of ageing are now upon me, so rather than shirk from them I have decided to embrace them ~ my purple wearing days are just beginning although I may not go all out and learn to spit I will certainly endeavour to work through some of the misdemeanour’s in this poem with relish.
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