Read all about our adventures here in our blog.
Warning! is a poem by Jenny Joseph about growing old... disgracefully and enjoying every moment of it. No longer worrying about what people think of you... You wear it or do it because you want to.
We both continue to hold the power of life and death of hordes of little and not so little children within our schools, are responsible for budgets, hiring and firing, the life chances and happiness of said weans and are generally well respected in those communities! However; we are cracking on a bit and starting to plan what and how our lives might be once we're shot of both Little Miss and Master Red Hat.
The final stanza of the poem, is that I should start in small ways; now! So I don't shock those who know us too much when we finally do wear purple with red hats.... This is a chronicle of our descent from staid parenthood into debauched, pleasure filled and gin fueled old(er) age!
We both continue to hold the power of life and death of hordes of little and not so little children within our schools, are responsible for budgets, hiring and firing, the life chances and happiness of said weans and are generally well respected in those communities! However; we are cracking on a bit and starting to plan what and how our lives might be once we're shot of both Little Miss and Master Red Hat.
The final stanza of the poem, is that I should start in small ways; now! So I don't shock those who know us too much when we finally do wear purple with red hats.... This is a chronicle of our descent from staid parenthood into debauched, pleasure filled and gin fueled old(er) age!
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.
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.
Where have we been?
It currently stands at 48 countries, which is about 22% of the total.
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A bucket list:
AKA My retirement plans
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