"Warning"

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.


Written in 1961 by the English poet Jenny Joseph



The tiny purple honey-scented flowers of a Pittosporum Tenuifolium 'Atropurpureum' which grows in the garden at Mum's.  I had never noticed these little flowers until doing some weeding under it this weekend.  This shrubby tree originates in New Zealand, but is hardy enough to survive most British winters.