Esteemed Company

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Well how's that for esteemed company? Two famous sportsmen announced their own retirements today, meaning that in years to come I shall be able to say that I retired the same summer as Jonny Wilkinson and Ryan Giggs.



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The 3 x 60 Challenge

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So much is written about the post-work bucket list that as you approach retirement, you inevitably feel that you should have one. A tick list of 100 things to see and do before you die. You don't even have to think up your own any more, the Internet is full of them. Glance through them if you will and you quickly get the impression that retirement must be full of adrenalin rushed grandparents throwing themselves out of aeroplanes or climbing Kilimanjaro. Indeed the eldest recently sent a book to Mister E and me entitled "101 Coolest Things to Do in Great Britain." Now it is a good read and has some, shall we say, "interesting ideas" but for those that hold the most appeal I can honestly say that I've already been there, done them, got the photographs. There are others that wild horses wouldn't drag me to. It may be cool, but somehow Mister E and I attending Bestival is beyond even the most vivid of imaginations. The problem with trying to
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All Aboard for Pampering

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Mister E and I may be retired but we still enjoy being pampered now and again; who says you have to be working hard to deserve a treat? Yesterday offered one of those occasions when we were spoiled with a train trip on board the Northern Belle, previously operated and restored by the Venice Simplon Orient Express. It was a day for lounging back in a plush seat, eating and drinking everything put in front of us (and there was quite a quantity) whilst watching the scenery glide serenely past. The luxury of our surroundings and the attentive service from uniformed staff all added to the sense of occasion and enjoyment. We were entertained by wandering musicians and a magician on our figure of eight route around County Durham and North Yorkshire, ending up eventually back where we started at Darlington Station. Just like my retirement so far really; there is no obvious destination but the journey getting there is immensely pleasurable.
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A Full Service

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  Image by Couleur on Pixabay It's not just the Spring Cleaning that I embrace in February and March because, much as I dislike routine, the end of winter and beginning of spring have become a time to put other aspects of our house in order. So, it's a period for sorting ourselves administratively with meetings with our financial adviser and personal banker; reviewing and renewing insurance policies, changing insurer as necessary; checking tariffs and switching energy suppliers. In fact this year we have surpassed ourselves by finally updating our wills too!  Energised by the thought of springtime and rebirth, it's also become a time for medical checks, new spectacles, and a dental check-up. When making my appointment with the optician, I was given the option of a hearing test; I declined but no doubt, in years to come, that too will find its way into my retirement body scan. It's not simply a phase for a human body overhaul either, as we've subje
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Late, Even in Retirement

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  (Image by Merry Christmas  from Pixabay) Whilst retirement continues to throw up its new experiences, I'm conscious that some of them only arise because I'm a little late for the party. We have the misfortune to suffer from the problems that rural connectivity throws up. In particular, we  frequently struggle with mobile reception at one side of the house, whilst at the other it has proved impossible to obtain a wifi signal meaning that the benefits of a smart televison are non-existent.  However, during last year's initial lockdown, for the first time I appreciated the potential of casting especially from the iPad to the living room. It's been an indispensable way to participate in online exercise classes.  On Sunday, I was idly exploring other options to cast when I discovered that every series of Downton Abbey is available on Amazon Prime. I'm one of those few people who until now has never watched a single episode. I was, of course, working when it aired on t
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A Reprieve

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  (Image by Vane Monte from Pixabay) Tonight I am writing this post rather than continuing my game of catch up with Downton Abbey. After a week of  constant viewing, I am even beginning to sound like Lady Mary; should I deign to clamber on top of a horse and ride it side-saddle, you will know that my conversion is complete. Yesterday, I remained on target to reach the finale today when I noticed that the warning to the effect that all episodes would be removed on 31st January appeared to have disappeared. I wondered if an extension had been granted or if instead I was already viewing on borrowed time. I checked again this morning, and, can you believe it, after all those mammoth sessions in front of the television there is indeed now a new expiry date in two weeks' time! I am unable to explain my relief.  Retirement and deadlines simply don't go together. After a career of working to time limits,  I honestly have no idea why I succumbed to the challenge. All I can think is th
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One a Day

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  I'm no longer sure if it's a feature of lockdown or of retirement, but, whereas I spent a working life juggling office and family commitments, suddenly one appointment a day seems to fill the diary. Actually having anything in the diary during lockdown is a highlight in itself, of course, but when you were always accustomed to fitting a visit to the dentist in and around office hours it is vaguely disheartening to realise that it might be all you achieve in daylight hours at the moment. To be honest I've been on a bit of a roll following the trip out to Leyburn on Saturday for that first dose of vaccine. We were strangely fatigued on Sunday, a not uncommon side-effect apparently, but Monday morning saw me out on the road bright and early. I'd booked the car in for its annual service and got it there just as the garage was opening its doors for business. I decided to wear an FP2 mask for the occasion but it did make communicating with the receptionist a trifle difficul
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Exhaustion

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  Who would have thought it?  Yesterday, according to my Fitbit app, I walked more than 5 miles without leaving the house; most of it was between wardrobes and the bed where robe contents were displaced and sorted. Now in the course of  the motivational training sessions, I was warned that one wardrobe and a time limit of 4 hours were desirable. However, when Mister E expressed interest in getting his hanging rails decluttered too, it seemed opportune to keep going. After all when the man who cannot even bear to throw away a cardboard box, admits his closets need a good tidy up and needs help to do this, who could possibly refuse? To be fair, he took to the process with a great deal more realism and less sentimentality than I did. In the end the hangers on his rails move freely whereas mine are still a trifle squeezed. Looking at the number of empty coat hangers we produced, I'm ashamed to say we must have jettisoned at least a hundred items between us, most of which were old work
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The Danger Zone

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I have generally considered myself  to be healthy and my retirement lifestyle equally so. I exercise daily; eat a good diet; don't add salt to my food; don't drink much; have never smoked; have no obvious stress triggers; have even lost half a stone in weight since finishing work although, like many people, several more pounds won't be missed. Grief, I sound so boring! Anyway, I was a little concerned by my hospital visit at the end of July when the nurse checked my blood pressure. I could see the reading on the screen and, as it seemed high to me, I did ask her if it was okay.  "Absolutely fine," she said but that didn't exactly allay my fears. After all I had been sitting in a waiting room that could easily have passed for Obesity International and what if mine had simply been the lowest she had seen all morning? The result has been nagging on my mind, so on Monday I called into our surgery and had the Practice Nurse take another readin
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Business Networking in Retirement

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Love it or hate it, business owners and key professionals have become accustomed to walking into rooms full of people and making small talk with strangers. It's the real life equivalent of Twitter or LinkedIn. Sometimes to ease the conversation and connections, games are played.  I recall one event where we had to stand up in turn and tell the room what we were looking for in the lowest number of words possible. That was an easy one for a divorce lawyer: "adultery"; it reduced the room to hysterics but I did get work referred as a result! Relieved of the obligation to network in retirement, I have been toying with deleting my LinkedIn profile. It does seem a brutal step to take, severing those historic connections and therefore the potential for reconnecting. Conversely, the deeper I get into retirement living, the deeper the divergence from the business world and the less important maintaining an online profile seems to be. Recently, however, an old c
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Not Only But Also

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  Today was our big coronavirus vaccination day and it really was a fortuitous decision to have winter tyres on my car, although the first 100 metres uphill from our drive is always the worst part of the journey. Indeed crossing Barden Moor before dropping down into Leyburn was even rather pretty, despite gusty winds blowing snow onto the road in front of us. The vaccination process itself was quick, straight forward and well-organised. We were early but told to go in regardless and there was no queue, unless a slight wait at the door to the room where three of our local doctors were administering the inoculations counts. Indeed the longest part of the process seemed to be the questions asked of us followed by a brief explanation of the whys and wherefores, after which we were asked if we still wanted to proceed. Well it would have taken more than a rehearsed speech to put us off, especially after driving 20 miles to get there. Mind it was only afterwards we were handed an explanatory
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From the Post

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  These days post can be somewhat disappointing with a mixture of unsolicited flyers and marketing mail coupled with the occasional missive from a bank or government department. Imagine, therefore, my excitement when I received not one but two thrilling envelopes in one delivery earlier this week. The first contained my free bus pass. Having celebrated at long last reaching the much postponed state pension age, I decided that I might as well apply for one.  It's not that I'm planning to give up driving but using buses in cities and popular tourist areas like the Lake District can  be useful, especially when parking places are either a rarity or cost the earth. I'm not yet convinced that I'll ever use it on one of the village's 4 buses a day but do have a hankering to venture on a long bus trip challenge. Home to Lands End in 14 days, or however long it takes to make all the connections, is the kind of trip you read of people taking.  Has retirement actually come to
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A Whinge and a Moan

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  There are times when we all deserve a little whine. Today I am taking advantage and want to moan about the rain. I know that the British predeliction for speaking about our weather is well known, but of late it is also very much well-founded. The buds bursting into green in the hedgerows and trees; our resident hare running around the adjacent field; the Spring bulbs already fading; the lighter evenings. It should all be adding up to a rapid movement towards summertime. Unfortunately cool temperatures and constant rain are spoiling everything. Indeed the farm next door seems to be growing nothing more than a crop of mud and the number of hours (not even days) that I have been able to get out into the garden can be very much counted on one hand. Today, with a dry forecast, expectations were high despite the deluge overnight. Of course, in true British fashion we ended up with a mild day ruined by strong winds. Suddenly I'm feeling envious of those who make the decision to retire t
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Calamity After Calamity

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  Oh my. I really am disaster prone at present. I am now a regular traveller to London in order to spend time with Grandotty who celebrated her first birthday at the end of February.  I have never been a fan of city living but sacrifices have to be made when the immediate family are all in the capital. Transferring at King's Cross onto the underground and then again onto an overland train are now normality for me and all changes are generally conducted without mishap, or so I thought. Last week changed everything when the small leather hold-all I was carrying was stolen from my shoulder as I boarded the overland train. Perhaps I looked like a vulnerable country cousin come to town and was specifically targeted. Hats off to the thief (or more likely gang who crowded around me as I prepared to enter the train), I certainly didn't notice until the moment it disappeared and by which time I was being carried forward by the throng of people also accessing through the doors with me. I
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Three Leaks and a Garage Door

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Last month we received written confirmation that the statutory notice relating to our water pipe has been lifted and that the Water Authority once again judges the supply to be safe to drink. One oil leak fixed (digging out yet to complete) but that's still progress. However, these things do have a tendency to multiply otherwise known as hitting you in triplicate. So it was when we discovered a leaking shower waste pipe on the outside wall of the bathroom. Fortunately Mister E was able to gather some hardware supplies, his tool box and a ladder to make a good repair. It felt as though he had only just done so, when a damp patch appeared in the ceiling above my computer and we heard the sound of water dripping. A connection on a cold water pipe in the void beneath the bathroom had decided to take that moment to fail. A bucket, plumber and a hole in the ceiling later, all was resolved although a plasterer is still needed; somehow a tub of polyfilla won't quite work to fill the 2
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The 3 x 60 Challenge

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So much is written about the post-work bucket list that as you approach retirement, you inevitably feel that you should have one. A tick list of 100 things to see and do before you die. You don't even have to think up your own any more, the Internet is full of them. Glance through them if you will and you quickly get the impression that retirement must be full of adrenalin rushed grandparents throwing themselves out of aeroplanes or climbing Kilimanjaro. Indeed the eldest recently sent a book to Mister E and me entitled "101 Coolest Things to Do in Great Britain." Now it is a good read and has some, shall we say, "interesting ideas" but for those that hold the most appeal I can honestly say that I've already been there, done them, got the photographs. There are others that wild horses wouldn't drag me to. It may be cool, but somehow Mister E and I attending Bestival is beyond even the most vivid of imaginations. The problem with trying to
Read more

Fatigued

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  (Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay) I was somewhat tickled to log into this blog tonight and realise that my last entry was titled Exhaustion. Seriously? I don't think I knew the meaning of the word when I made that post. I do now. The easing of the coronavirus restrictions and return of the eldest from New Zealand, meant that the Bank Holiday weekend was a suitable opportunity for a family reunion. With the eldest and the youngest both joining us, we realised that it was the first time (because of their respective foreign sojourns)  that we had all been together at home since Christmas 2016. They both brought their partners to the get-together and suddenly our household of 2 became 6. Like the weather, it was wonderful but so tiring. There's something about lolling around in the heat, eating, drinking and chatting constantly that is quite exhausting. Keeping the fridge stocked with provisions for hearty appetites is an effort in itself not to mention preparing the house fo
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A Lifesaver

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  I clearly enjoyed last week's overnight stay in hospital so much, that I went back for another one on Sunday. On this occasion, however, it was far from pre-planned. I've been doing really well with my post-operative recovery and have ditched the pain killers. I've taken a peep at the surgical wounds and they are healing splendidly on the outside at least. After a wave of nausea and diarrhoea kept me awake overnight on Saturday, I was feeling generally fine if a little fatigued by Sunday morning and went back to bed to catch up on missed sleep. When I awoke my heart was pounding; so much so that I mentioned it to the youngest when we chatted, with me dismissing it as simply a sign of its strength. An hour later, sitting reading, I was aware of that heart beat again and for a moment felt whoozy. I got up and went slowly downstairs, pausing just inside the kitchen door where the same thing happened and I moved to sit down. I could feel my heart racing and out of interest de
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Tormented

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  I don't like to feel totally helpless, but events at the other end of Europe over the past 24 hours have created that torment regardless. Somehow it seems absurd to post a blog entry updating you on my cushioned way of life whilst others are forced to fight for theirs or else leave everything to flee for safety. It is hard to appreciate just how much we take our freedom and comfortable lifestyles for granted and how ineffective we potentially are in protecting the liberties of others. There again and at moments like these it is easy to have our own "What if it were us?" moments or to feel guilt when putting something pleasurable in the diary for next month. Are our lives really going to proceed as normal or is a vile dictator on the verge of spoiling life as we know it for everybody? So much for the Universal Declaration of Human Rights when at least one of the five permanent members of the UN Security Council can just disregard its contents at will. A 21st century act
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Grateful for a Good Week

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  Altogether it's been a good week. Transformative even, one might say. Not only did I finish painting a cupboard outside the bathroom, amongst other places, but we also made it to IKEA for the storage boxes I wanted to go into it. Best of all, I managed to construct them without any assistance from Mister E. Creativity comes in many forms, be it screwing together pieces of wood or arranging the finished product on shelves. Brutal simplicity is the best description for the effect achieved, I think, and I confess I still can't pass that particular cupboard without a little peek inside to marvel at the conversion. Also, I got the result of the antigen test I'd submitted for research purposes into Covid-19. "Antibodies clearly detectable," it says. I guess I'd have been seriously perturbed if it had revealed anything else, but it's still good to know that the vaccine has done the trick, for the moment anyway. With a second dose since, I am reassured as to
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Happy Easter

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  One of the joys of retirement isn't so much the opportunity to enjoy creativity but rather to embrace again one's playful side. I succeeded in combining the two over my coffee breaks this week when I went into Easter Bunny knitting mode. To be truthful they are chocolate creme egg cosies, although why I should think that a creme egg needs to be kept cosy is something that I am finding impossible to explain. With spare wool left over from a baby-knit and espying a simple and free pattern online from To Be Adorned, I just couldn't resist. Happy Easter!
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