When I am an old man I shall wear grey Crimplene slacks
With brand-new white slip-on shoes and a too-small nylon shirt
And smile a lot at strangers with my too-white ill-fitting NHS teeth
I shall spend my pension at car boot sales
On rusted, broken parts of obscure machinery
And say it will come in handy – one day
I shall sit down in Boots' cafe when I'm tired
And devour the complimentary newspapers
I shall make babies cry with my rictus grin
And trip up noisome children with my stick
I shall go out in my Oxfam-bought turquoise shell suit
And criticise other people's gardens
And learn to surf the net
You can wear a gabardine zip-up jacket and not dye your hair
And eat three cream teas at a go
Or drink only whisky for a week
And hoard boiled sweets until they go soft or fluffy
And learn to play Tomb Raider
But now we must mow our lawns
And use a pooper-scooper in the park
We will take our Grandchildren to McDonalds
And bow to their better judgment
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 carry a Carlton bag when I go shopping!
This poem is a deliberate parody of the Jenny Joseph original
