Warning

Jeg var som kjent i Skottland i forrige uke, og hadde det kjempefint. Været var herlig, maten enda bedre, og selskapet var det beste man kunne få.

Mens jeg var der borte kom jeg over et dikt som jeg syns er verd å gjengi her, det er skrevet av ei dame som heter Jenny Joseph i 1932. På tross av at det er gammelt, så tror jeg de fleste av oss har noe igjen for en slik tankegang:

WARNING:

When I am old, 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 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 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.

Jenny Joseph, 1932