I always longed to be slovenly
when I was a wee small girl.
I wasn’t quite sure what it meant, you see,
but it was everything I wasn’t allowed to be.
My socks and stockings must be pulled up fast –
never allowed to droop at half-mast!
Coats and cardies properly done up;
water from a glass, please, never a cup:
my daughter must never be slovenly!
I grew up at last, away from those restrictions,
sometimes fulfilling Mum’s worst predictions:
Skirts too short, make-up too bright!
I’ve come through various stages of life,
appropriate clothes for a mother and wife.
But now I’ve arrived at another stage –
wear what I like, due to my age.
So I’ve worn Christmas jim-jams
for a whole three days – without changing!
How slovenly! What bliss!
Sorry, Mother!

January 2023