Those little old ladies who wear knitted cardies, skirts or dresses and proper slippers, not moccasins.They have pretty rooms with comfy chairs. The chairs with crocheted doileys on the arms and a lovely quilt on the back for those chilly nights. There is a basket of knitting next to her favourite chair and a magazine rack with The English Women's Weekly and maybe a Gardening Magazine.
In the kitchen there is not a dirty dish to be seen, there is a Tablecloth on the table and a cake, batch of scones or biscuits fresh from the oven. A cup of tea in a proper cup and saucer and poured from a tea pot with one of the above fresh baked goods is always a highlight of a visit.
The reality is that Grandma is probably at Bowls 5 days a week, on a bus trip somewhere, at the pokies, playing Tennis, doing aerobics or even Bungee Jumping and if you do manage to catch her at home you might get a Tea bag thrown at a cup and a bought biscuit cause she is too busy to bake. She wears Black Pepper windcheaters cause they dry much faster than hand knitted and you will hardly ever see her in a dress. At night they channel flick and there isn't a knitting needle in sight! When they come to visit they don't bring home made goodies either, more likely a cask of red and a bottle of home made Baileys. ( Well at least she brought something handmade I suppose!)
It isn't the old Ladies that do the baking, knitting and sewing or throw doileys willy nilly about the house....it is us! The next one or two generations after. We sigh over Vintage and the Grannies roll their eyes and wonder what we want that old junk for. We bake and create amazing vegie gardens and they slip into Coles and buy the things they want. We are creating the welcoming homemade nests while all the old girls are out there doing their thing.
I will still make my pretty Vintage gifts and long for the sweet stereotypical Mum and Nanna but I know for sure that when I get old I will be out there doing what they are doing (not bowls though!) and loving every minute of 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 am 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 pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats 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 now?
So people who know me aren't too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.