I am a sensible woman. A woman to have on your side when the chips are down but not the kind who gets flowers or trips to Paris. I am not a woman who needs flattery or flowers. Or rather, I do not appear to be a woman who needs flattery or flowers.
I am a cope-er, a reasoned argument kinda gal. In fact, not actually the kind of woman you’d ever call a gal. Even when I was a gal, no-one called me one. Everyone thought I was older. And I’m tall and sturdy and capable, I solve problems professionally and calm panicked clients and soothe anxieties and cover up my own. I can see (and argue if necessary) both sides of any argument. My mother used to say I was born old. Even when I was a big drinker, I still managed to drink less than everyone else and stay coherent and not get into any outrageous situations… that anyone found out about. I don’t take drugs. I’ve NEVER taken drugs. Not even as a student, I must have been the only student NOT to take one single solitary drug.
I’ve done my share of things I REALLY shouldn’t have done, but they have mostly stayed below the radar screen.
I have always managed to feel slightly old-fashioned, just one step out of time with the cool and trendy. And that was OK – I had my thing and it was “smart”. I was the clever one, what’s worse the reliable, clever one. Not so clever as to be outlandish or quirky – no Sheldon Cooper here, just run of the mill sharp. Not having to try too hard to pass exams and fairly effortlessly remembering stuff . Popular on the quiz team but not so much at the parties – like pleasant wallpaper, if Alexa or Google Home made wallpaper.
My mother had bright burnished coppery hair and my father jet black. My sister followed my mother and inherited her thick red shiny hair and me? Mousy brown and fine like baby hair. Not terrible but I was “the girl next door” hair in a family of “look at me” hair. I am just a bit tall and quite a bit fat.
I am content with my lot; my body and brain have successfully carried me this far in life when other more spectacular bodies and brains have failed and there are worse things than being a nice sensible solid person.
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 practise a little now? So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Hair courtesy of Orange Chat Hanwell https://www.facebook.com/Orangechatsalon/