I'm fine with the genteel lavenders and lilacs, but I'm developing a real hankering for in your face bright purple.
Sod pink, GO PURPLE!!!
Oh dear, my militancy seems to have found its place. Shame I can't really wear purple as I look as if I've been beaten up when I do so I don't have a lot of purple things. Some of us just don't have the right colouring. I blame my parents.
- I do have some purple things and wear them anyhow, with the thought "you should see what the other bloke looks like!"
Oh, that's an idea--I've been using a pink plastic wallet, partly because it didn't have anything else in it, but I'm sure I've got a purple one somewhere. I'll switch them over. I don't usually wear strong purples because they make me look ill, but I'm going to find some things in really strong purples to put around the place as a reminder to keep going.
Found it Cheryl.
I've been on the way to being an old lady since in my thirties- I love purple and have the book. Lots of my clothes are purple- some I don't or can't wear any more but I still keep them- just to look at. And I have a red hat at the ready.
I'm with Julie, when I really am an old lady I'm going to put myself in a home and be a combination of all the most difficlt patients I've looked after. Climb out of bed and piddle in the corner, leave the premises, burp and fart, refuse to take meds, swear like a trooper, complain about the food incessantly, constantly go into other peoples rooms and move/take their belongings, refuse to let the staff shower me and be very very demanding, pressing the buzzer every five minutes.
The hospital I'm going to gave me a purple folder to keep all my "documents" in - how pleased I was with that.
A lovely lady I used to work with died very suddenly aged 48. Her favourite colour was purple and the purple poem was her favourite so her husband requested everyone to wear purple at her funeral. It was a very sad but lovely day where we all celebrated her life.
RIP Jenny x
Love this thread.
But SM422 read that last line of your poem as 'Are nothing to her baldness - When she's bald!!!! :-))))))
The eyes are going as well as the brain now.
Love to all
I am another who loves the poem-I think it has a special meaning for bc -an affirmation of hope for a future.I am 66 so well into my purple wearing phase-I have a lovely purple silk shirt 🙂
Thanks Cheryl for reminding me of 'I shall wear purple', my kids think I'm round the bend already, with more surgery , chemo, rads and other stuff looming and being 48. I think I am not going to wait till I get old and start living in the spirit of the poem. Had a terrible memory for years and don't want to forget to have fun.
I love the purple poem, and my mum has been living by it's sentiments for years! All power to her elbow! I am going to now, although the energy levels are about naff!
This is a poem I love:
Oh the gladness of a woman when she's glad!
And oh the sadness of a woman when she's sad!
But the gladness of her gladness
And the sadness of her sadness
Are nothing to her badness - When she's bad!
And boy, can I be bad when I want to!
PS OH bought me a lovely silk scarf for Christmas - in the most gorgeous purple you have ever seen - mmmmmmm - wonder what he's trying to tell me??
lol Love the poem, must have been a pensioner all my life as ive always been mad and never cared a jot what others have thought about what i wear and do. My mum brought me up to beat my own drum be a leader not a follower and thats what ive done but best of luck to all the good purple folk.
I will take the opportunity to be even naughtier as a pensioner and blame it on being old. ha ha.
I love that poem. Being of pensionable age I had already been practising some of that stuff. After all the trauma of the BC diagnosis and treatment I find myself not giving a hoot what anybody thinks when I am out and about. It's great.
Just wanted to say that there is a group of women, with branches nationwide, who regularly meet up in their purple outfits and mis-matching red hats - my (slightly loony, but lovable) mother has joined the Norwich branch and she loves it. Apparently, one get together is riding the carousel in Brighton in their pj's. She loves it.
I was always upset that my grandma ran through all the names but mine and stopped at Derek. Hey ho she died 25 years ago should have let it go by now but still hurts!
Oh god, yes, the names! I was always "Frances, Gillian, Jennifer, oh for god's sake you know who you are!" And my kids all have the same kind of name as I did, with all their siblings and the pets first...
I know about the kids. It doesn't help when I have to go through every name, including the cat.
I think I'll wear either big straw hats or baseball caps and inappropriate long hippy chick skirts in wild patterns.
Don't think my kids would notice the difference, they already think I'm totally bonkers!
Great poem and I hoped when I saw the thread title that that was what it was. Brilliant. Another fab one is a little short story with illustrations by Edward somebody-or-other called "The Lady and the Chocolate". If you see it, get it. Makes me smile every time.
Sorry left field i know - it was the mention of the colour purple!
I've never seen a purple cow
i never hope to see one
but i can tell you anyhow
i'd rather see than be one
This was the first poem i ever learned - my hope is that i live to be very old and can tell it to my grand children and they can think i'm bonkers
LMAO - this poem occurred to me, too - but I couldn't remember who wrote it! I found it in a little book a couple of years ago, and gave it to my mum on her 65th birthday - she loved it!
Think I shall def. start behaving like this right now.. and have been wearing purple for a while now, anyhow....
On the Pink Road of Chemo thread, there have been a couple of comments about hoping one day to be a dotty old lady of 100 or so. This reminded me of the wonderful poem by Jenny Joseph, usually called by its first line, 'I shall wear purple'. The actual title is 'Warning'.
So, let's imagine being eccentric old ladies (and gents). How would you do it?
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.