"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"
Well stuff that for a lark. I don't like purple, red doesn't suit me, brandy reminds me of when my dad died and who wants to wear gloves in the summer?
This is what I'll do when I am 90:
I shall wear black - lace, satin, velvet, chiffon. Sexy fabrics that remind me I'm still a woman. Beads, sequins, diamonds, feathers and furs. I'll look like an elegantly overdressed diva. I'll be known in Waitrose as 'the prima donna".
On my feet I shall wear the highest of heels in the softest of suede and I won't totter, I'll glide. People will comment on my 'carriage' and I shall give deportment classes to ladettes who will grow to admire me so much they'll take me to all the best nightclubs in London where I'll dance the night away.
I'll be the sexiest mover in my burlesque classes which I shall attend thrice weekly. Finally comfortable in my own skin, I'll shimmy and sashay with the best of them. My husband will be treated to private viewings at the click of his arthritic finger.
I'll make love to my husband wherever and whenever I want to - on the beach or in a lift.
At this point my husband has pointed out that I don't need to wait until I'm 90 to do any of these!
I'll feign Tourettes and let that side of me be free - if I want to swear, I will. If I think something, I'll say it. "Offend or please," will become my motto.
I'll sun bath nude until I'm the colour of golden toffee without a tan line in sight. Too old to worry about wrinkles or skin damage.
I shall buy the biggest motorbike and ride pillion around the country with my hubbie. We'll stop off at little countryside hotels and be welcomed by all the locals. We'll be invited to lock up drinking sessions and I'll dance on the tables until dawn.
I'll teach my grandchildren to do the Lambada and how to say "P*ss off" in thirty different languages. I will then feel I've prepared them for the world. I'll also give them money whenever they need it, but only if it's for something totally irresponsible. This is my time to annoy my son and his wife.
I'll eat chocolate and drink champagne for breakfast. I won't cook but I'll dine at the finest restaurants and with friends. I'll constantly tell people that it's the champagne and a diet of avocados that has kept me so youthful and feature in the health section of the 'Daily Mail' as a miracle of modern science - "Is there something in all this? Amanda had never been under the knife and yet she looks like a forty year old and has the energy of a teenager."
My house will be filled with cats and dogs. In every cupboard, on every surface there will be a much loved ball of fluff. Our pet food bill will be astronomical but my husband will smile lovingly and say "It's up to my bride what she chooses to spend her writer's millions on."
My husband and I will die in our sleep, simultaneously, holding hands. Our son won't grieve for us because he'll know we had the best of times and we were lucky enough to pass together.
Yes, you just wait till I'm 90!
My novel Diary of a Mummy Misfit is available at Amazon for Kindle. Now also in paperback at Lulu.