INTRODUCTION


There seems to be a scarcity of UK retirement blogs out there (other than those proffering financial advice) and in the absence of my being able to read about other people's experiences, I instead offer you my own "Great Big Retirement Adventure."

My husband (Mister E) and I have moved from the initial concept through the planning stages to implementation and this site is intended to record the whole process. What I am seeking from retirement is now very different to what I thought I was planning and has gradually developed into a quest for fitness and a desire for simplification, with a transition away from both a highly organised lifestyle and the personality traits reflecting a pedantic professional career. Indeed I recently described myself as "a goofy idiot" who enjoys smiling at sunflowers; a far cry from the pre-retirement professional and an indication of just how far I have travelled.

Please visit from time to time and do add your comments. The blog is in reverse chronological order but popular posts and those highlighting our journey are specifically pinpointed below on the right hand side together with a list of topics covered. Alternatively you may prefer to look at the summary or wisdom we have acquired or even our have done list with its retirement atlas and dip in and out of the blog using the links given.




Showing posts with label Concerns. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Concerns. Show all posts

Tuesday, 3 October 2017

Use It or Lose It



There seems to be a general acceptance that as we age, we grow weaker and frailer. Indeed research suggests that it is not uncommon for us to lose up to 8% of our muscle mass each decade from the age of 30. Try telling that to the trainer at the gym who has just re-set my new workout programme and now has little me lifting 10 kgs. 

"It will get easier," he has promised. Although to be honest I am more persuaded by his intimation that it will change my body shape. Who says you can't develop abs after 50?

National guidelines on physical activity recommend that, in order to stay healthy, adults should undertake at least 150 minutes of moderate aerobic activity a week as well as strength exercises on at least two days a week. However, a report published by the Chartered Society of Physiotherapists last week, concludes from a survey it commissioned that almost a quarter of over 65's do no strengthening activities at all, leaving them prone to the risk of falls and ill-health. Moreover 34% of those approaching retirement (aged 55-64) miss the target too.

Bearing in mind that the Society suggests that gardening and carrying shopping bags help to keep us in shape, it is hard to understand why so many are failing to meet the criteria set out in the guidelines. If there was ever a time to switch from buying cuppa soup and tea bags to potatoes and two litre bottles of milk, it is clearly in retirement.

Monday, 31 July 2017

Off Colour



I was not myself at all yesterday, struck down, I suspect, by a mild dose of food poisoning. No appetite, a painful tummy ache, totally overcome by fatigue with weak joints and an unending wave of nausea, I took to my bed. Safe in its confines, I listened first to the stomach fire brigade spray its hoses of bile on the malcontented and noisy dragon beneath and then waited patiently whilst the sewage cleaning operators in the intestine did their work. In the meantime the extremities resembled the polar ice cap as I shivered my way through the day.

At least in retirement there is no longer any pressure to drag yourself out of bed to fulfil commitments in an office diary. However, yesterday was a Sunday so I didn't even have that thought as solace for my condition.

 It is unpleasant being out of sorts but (touch wood) I am fortunate in generally enjoying good health.

As we age, however, I know that it may not always be so. Already wear and tear on vital knee joints, not to mention bursitis and tendonitis can at the least be irritating. Maybe the underlying conditions were always there, certainly old skiing pulls and strains are chief suspects, but it seems only now through attempts at a more physical lifestyle in retirement that they are coming to the fore. 

Certainly there is much to be said for recognising your limitations even when it is sad to have to acknowledge them and  realise that there are some things that it's just not wise to do anymore. Moving on through retirement, reality begins to catch up. 

With reality comes an understanding that life is no longer infinite and time has run out for me for marathon running, mountain climbing, bungee jumping and a host of other activities that I'm sure I really would never have tried anyway. You will note that I am not yet excusing my partaking of the activities that bring enjoyment. However, that knowledge of the finite can make it seem that the pressure is on to fit in everything  that you want to do, before infirmity creeps up still further.

I guess that's where continuous planning and the much berated bucket list come in. To stop retirement dreams becoming unachievable or giving way to the dreaded drudgery of routine, regular reviews, flexibility and in some instances lateral thinking are needed. 

Forgive me, I'm now off to undertake a rational assessment...




Tuesday, 25 July 2017

Giving Up




After my last blog entry I have been contemplating my retirement and am beginning to feel that the next driver is "giving up." I don't mean by surrendering but rather in a very physical way in order to reach that nirvana of a simplified life.

So for me July has been a month to embrace Plastic Free July and abandon added sugar. 

The statistics on plastic are appalling and when I looked in my own waste-bin at the beginning of the month I saw with horror that, despite our conscientous devotion to re-cycling, we were still disposing of more plastic in the form of cellophane-wrapping and cling-film for landfill than any other form of waste. Just realising the extent of the problem that we were creating (and we consider ourselves good at sorting re-cyclable waste from our other rubbish) was a start in the right direction and now it has become a crusade to deliberately shop to try to avoid the worst excesses of single-use plastic whilst looking for items made of other substances for repeat use. It's too late to undo all our errors in the past; the children's toys, coffee capsules, melamine picnic plates, garden chairs, plant pots, all now presumably buried deep in a local authority pit never to decompose in our lifetimes. The plastic containers in the fridge and coathangers in the wardrobe provide a daily reminder of  our wilful disregard for green living. We are, however, now stepping up to become eco-warriors as, going forward, we relinquish the plastic trappings that go with an early 21st century lifestyle. Giving up is good, providing both challenge and ambition whilst benefiting the planet as we hopefully reduce pollution.

Sugar is another horror now scientifically linked to obesity and the development of type 2 diabetes. The Action on Sugar website highlights the issues but it is only when you start to read in detail the written information on food products that you get any appreciation of the scale of the problem. Have you for instance ever tried to find bread without added sugar in your local supermarket? It does exist but elusivity means you have to track it down. On the plus side, the eradication of added sugar from our diet in the last couple of weeks has done wonders for weight loss and energy levels and I can thoroughly recommend it.

In September 2016, I posted a blog entry which I titled Letting Go and Making a Difference.  They were for me the second and third phases of retirement, the movement or divergence from one to the other blurred by an overlap. Giving Up, following  a period of what I can best describe as plateauing, seems to be a natural progression and whilst many might say there is no obvious distinction there is actually a subtle difference stemming from the maturing of retirement. Letting go was as much about the mental state of change from worker to retired person as the relinquishment of physical stuff; there was an understanding of the need to shed and a start to the process. In making a difference I had reached a point where I was energised by my efforts and strove to achieve. To give up is I now believe a natural sequitur but it is more brutal and deliberate, requiring passion, renewed energy and aggressive determination. It goes beyond recognition of and lip service to what must be jettisoned, to deliberate deprivation in order to achieve it. To let go, I must now give up previously perceived comforters rather than extraneous stuff; to make a difference I must give up the comforts of self-indulgence and infinite time. 

Retirement has turned up more challenges.



Wednesday, 12 July 2017

Saving Up for a Rainy Day

Apologies for yet another interruption in service. The last time I made a blog entry I was attributing my lapse to a bout of very welcome but very warm weather. Since then, here in North Yorkshire, we have been paying our penance with days of rain and for a period of one week some rather unseasonably low temperatures. Still variety is the spice of life as they say, and retirement thunders on (oh yes we have had a couple of electric storms too) regardless.

So I have been taking advantage of the wet weather to endeavour to catch up with a pile of administrative tasks left for the proverbial rainy day. Trouble is that, even with fourteen or more wet days, I'm still not up to date and procrastination appears to have successfully defeated my good intentions. On the plus side we have caught up with old friends, finished a course of hospital out-patients' treatment, had a family member to stay, eaten out  on several occasions, read numerous books, worked out in the hope of using up the extra calories, gardened between the showers, been to the cinema, fulfilled various commitments and of course become embroiled in following the annual tennis fest that is Wimbledon.

If I am  honest, however, it all seems a little humdrum and I even fear lest I have actually relaxed into retirement a little too easily. The trouble, of course, is that when we are at home for a prolonged period there is a tendency to fall into a dreaded routine: gym in the morning, coffee at 11am etc.. Routine has crept up effortlessly of late and coupled with a natural tendency towards indolence is proving to be an enemy of the successful pursuit of satisfaction in retirement. I'm guessing that it's a natural cycle now that we have moved into (I can hardly believe it) the fourth year since cessation of employment. 

The initial phase, as I have already documented, was one of recovery followed by "letting go" and then the application of long practised skills in order to "give back,"  whilst surprisingly finding that what I had planned to do in retirement very much went by the by. Now, however, I sense the advent of a new phase; a time for challenge and maybe even adventure or at least the determination to shed the feeling that we may be at risk of drifting aimlessly and to review the intial aspirations formulated for this period of our lives. I guess I am going to need a few more rainy days to properly explore this concept, but, with the British weather the way it is, those days have to be a certainty rather than a long shot.
 
Whilst I am conscious that this has been another self indulgent critique, I hope that many can empathise with the experience that I have described. In the meantime I close this entry buoyed by the discovery that somebody must read and appreciate these blog entries because it seems they have made it into a list of 100 Top Retirement Blogs. Forever flattered and grateful...




Saturday, 10 June 2017

Just One Regret



It's a strange old world and a sign of the times when the winning party loses and the losing party is seen as the winner. That, however, seems to be the outcome of  the election. 

Taking the electorate for granted with its arrogance the Conservatives went hammer and tongs for the United Kingdom Independence Party voters and in so doing forgot that middle England with its intelligent, economically literate, remain-voting  populus would be both repulsed and insulted by the rhetoric. Consequently, although winning the most seats (albeit short of an overall majority), the Prime Minister totally failed in her objective of getting the large majority and mandate she was seeking to negotiate a "hard" Brexit, closing the door to the exisiting arrangements for free trade and the movement of people within Europe.

So, having finished my last blog entry with a feeling of resigned disillusionment, like more than half of the electorate I was overwhelmingly buoyed to find the Government had faltered; the people had spoken up against what it was seeking to impose and, whilst there may be the chaos of a hung Parliament, the mandate was clearly not there for the austere policies and Brexit terms they were seeeking to impose.

Except, and what more would you expect from a Prime Minister and party that does not listen, they are now cuddling up with the Democratic Unionist Party from Northern Ireland. The DUP, as it is commonly known, has grown out of a para-military organisation, is involved in smear and speculation concerning financial mismanagement and has policies that make the Conservatives' seem almost acceptable. The DUP is anti-abortion, refuses to accept LGTBQ rights, is sceptical about climate change and numbers creationists amongst its MPs. However, it now has 10 MPs and to keep the Conservatives in power and pursue their rejected policies there is to be an understanding between the two; the May-Dup alliance as it will no doubt be described. An alliance that many commentators believe may even upset the delicate peace in Northern Ireland.

Well we shall have to wait to see what happens but the first protest took place outside of Downing Street last night, wise counsel (particularly on Twitter) is being given and the longer the Government seeks to press on with a business as normal approach, the more millions of us are going to be totally affronted. So, if we thought the election would mean that politics would quieten down and everything would revert to normal, it seems not and this may only  be the beginning.

On the left the Corbynistas are claiming exactly that as they assert a victory, having gained some 30 seats, when only 7 weeks ago it was anticipated that they would be annihilated. Obviously the swing in Labour's favour includes a large protest vote, although many are proclaiming it as the beginning of the rise in support for progressive politics with Keynesian economics. 

As you can imagine, as well as giving the comedy writers hours of wonderful script material, Mister E and I have had plenty to discuss too. What would have been the outcome if Labour's appeal had been more Centrist? Does the impact of globalisation and mass capitalism mean that traditional political theories are ineffective for the 21st Century? Can you redress inequality and provide fairness through policies that the majority of the electorate will truly embrace in the way that the youth vote seems prepared to? Does it require a softly, softly approach from a new centrist approach to do this or can there be a political revolution of thought and support, bringing speedier momentum to the movement for a fairer, greener, more caring and inclusive society?

I had honestly expected to wake up on Friday revulsed by the thought that I lived in a country full of little Englanders whose only thoughts were for profit and themselves. With the final vote in, it seems that the Conservative, DUP and UKIP parties' vote share combined was just 45.1%. My faith in humanity and the British electorate is restored and there is now hope that there really is a way, regardless of the current Governmental chaos and apparent intransigence, to create the kinder society that we seek.

Regrets? There is one. Taking advantage of retirement, I stayed up until 3am on Election Night; why oh why didn't I do my ironing as I watched those results come in? 




Thursday, 8 June 2017

The Long Night Ahead




I honestly didn't intend to do another political post or let off steam again, so hopefully this will be a quieter post. As I type I am conscious that the Polling Stations close in less than thirty minutes and I am steeling myself for a late night. 

It has been a nasty election campaign when the strong and stable image of the Prime Minister has crumbled into a weak and wobbly one, refusing to engage with the public, debate with the opposition, cost her policies or even bother to explain them. That said she will undoubtedly triumph tonight leaving us with the most extreme right wing Government in memory.

The only other viable party in presenting policies that are progressive and socialist, will inevitably have shown itself to be too far left for significant electoral gains. The best one can hope for is a hung Parliament or certainly one without the clear landslide that the Prime Minister was seeking when she chose to call this snap election.

A campaign that was meant to focus on Brexit has instead been a campaign between hope and confusion; honesty and arrogance. Tomorrow will be another day of despair and disillusionment but as someone who hasn't voted for a winning side since 2005, I think I can pick up the pieces and get on with my life.

In readiness for when things get really bad and the NHS is completely in the hands of Virgin Care, and being run for profit not patients, I have at least had the foresight in the last week to get various hospital appointments booked. After all the possibility of purchasing health insurance in retirement will only come at a price and probably one that will make the proposed dementia tax look good value.

Since I last posted here the campaign has also  been hijacked by another terrorist atrocity in London increasing the differences between the parties over police numbers. Why the electorate is going to believe that a Prime Minister who was responsible during her time at the Home Office for cutting police numbers by 20,000 is now going to keep them safe, is beyond me. 

In the meantime she continues to cuddle up to President Trump taking far too long to criticise his ridiculous condemnation of the London Mayor who was trying to reassure people in the city that they should not be alarmed at the sight of armed officers. Trump of course had to use the situation to try to push his own agenda on travel bans and dealing with the anti-gun lobby. I wonder if he understands just how many British hackles rose with his comments and the strength of feeling against a state visit, especially the suggestion that he might even fly in this weekend.

So I am prepared for the worst tomorrow but at least it means that when the Tories do get elected and this state visit goes ahead, Mister E and I will get to attend a demonstration for the first time since my student days and there'll be more time spent ranting on this  blog.

Wednesday, 31 May 2017

Hot Air



I do feel that my blog entries of late have given themselves over to an indulgent opportunity for a little ranting. The strange thing is that retirement is like a second adolescence in so many ways: I can go to bed late and get up late; I can do what I want to do, rather than be at the bidding of others, and live in a totally selfish bubble if I so choose; my responsibilities are negligible; I can eat at odd hours; there is no reason for commitment to any engagement unless of my choosing; I can make spur of the moment decisions on how to spend my time, be it by curling up to spend a day reading a book or by taking advantage of the sun in the sky to go for a walk; I can spend hours thinking about the meaning of life, talking with friends or even just looking at my phone, should I so want.

Recently however I have also discovered that it is a time for reclaiming the passion of youth; the fight for right and beliefs. I hear many elderly people moaning about election coverage, avoiding the news programmes and generally showing little or no interest in the issues of the day. Perhaps that's what happens in the next stage, but early retirement certainly remains a time for rebirth, political thought and plenty of hot air.

Mind not all hot air is good. Certainly not if it relates to climate change. All of which could lead me to a specific rant against the developments of the day, when it is being reported that the so called leader of the free West has apparently decided to call time on his country's commitment to the Paris Climate Accord. A report that follows on from the revelation that the Prime Minister of the UK is being dubbed Trump's mole after leaked documents show that the UK wanted to change EU targets on "renewables" and energy efficiency, so that they would essentially be voluntary rather than mandatory.

However even in my neo-revolutionary latter years, I need time to sit back with a G&T, enjoy the evening sun and look forward to a luxurious soak in a warm bubble bath. At least with retirement comes  a better understanding, as well as application, of one's priorities.

Cheers!



Sunday, 28 May 2017

Heatwave in an Art Gallery



On Friday we made the decision to head to the city rather than fry ourselves on deck. So we headed from Troon Marina to the centre of Glasgow as the sun burnt down upon us and temperatures reached Mediterranean levels. Although we braved the heat to take in the Cathedral, Necropolis, and the Provand's Lordship it was only inside the art galleries (of which Glasgow has a multitude) that we found relief from the baking temperatures.



It has to be said that Glasgow likes its art gritty and the ends of so many buildings are now daubed with street art murals that we found fascinating like this one at the University of Strathclyde:



In the aftermath of the appalling bombing at Manchester arena only a few days before, we thought the Polygraph Exhibition at the Gallery of Modern Art particularly pertinent. It is centred around a two channel video by the German film maker and visual artist, Hito Steyerl, in which she explores the death of her friend in Turkey. Dissecting evidence to separate truth from fiction in a complex world seemed to be the theme for all the exhibits. In the video itself Steyerl traces the casings from the bullets that killed her friend back to the premises of Lockheed Martin in Berlin. Her evidence claimed that it had supplied the weapons to Turkey through the German Government; state complicity unravelled; politics meeting the personal. The theme continued with for instance black and white photographs of the elderly and vulnerable housed in a hostel for the homeless in the city; politics again affecting individual lives.

At Manchester is it too glib to blame the reprehensible actions of one suicide bomber on the delusions of extremism? Are foreign policy, cutting police numbers, a lack of proper employment opportunities for the young from disadvantaged sectors and/or a failure to address radicalisation of some within our multi-cultural society, also to blame for the deaths at the arena of 22 innocent people, many just children?

For the first time ever, I found myself wanting to concur with Trump when he starkly referred to those responsible for the atrocity as losers. Yet as the exhibition in Glasgow pointed out, life isn't that simple. After all this was a US President who just days before had met with the leaders of Saudi Arabia and, like Theresa May only a few months earlier, sought to agree yet another arms deal. But what are those arms being used for? Isn't it Saudi Arabia that has been indiscriminately shelling in Yemen, killing thousands of innocent civilians including children and by virtue of its blockades caused widespread hunger and a shortage of medicines and other supplies? 

Individuals all over the world suffer because political decisions have far reaching and often unintended consequences. The world has become a very complicated place but it behoves no politician well to ignore the fact that people not profit are inevitably at the end of the chain of events started by their decisions.


Monday, 22 May 2017

A Week is a Long Time in Politics




It is often said that a week is a long time in politics. Two weeks or, to be totally exact, since I last posted about the election on 6th May, is even longer.

The intervening period seems like an eternity and we are now a little clearer on the varous parties' policies, some of which actually sound progressive and others, like the potential for the reintroduction of fox hunting and the return of grammar schools, positively Victorian.

On Brexit which is supposed to  be the main issue for the election, we appear to have established that the Conservatives with their Brexit means Brexit approach would sacrifice free trade in return for an unlikely ability to reduce immigration to tens of thousands. Labour on the other hand would negotiate to keep us in the free market with EU immigration essentially controlling itself through market forces. The LibDems however whilst not rejecting outright the outcome of the referendum result last year, believe that Brexit does not necessarily mean Brexit and would give the country a second vote on whatever terms are negotiated. All would have us believe that they remain committed to the NHS but commitment requires funding and with Brexit looming that is not going to be easy.

In the  last few days the Conservative Party which  has continued to insult and wear down the British public with its strong and stable propaganda has arrogantly published a manifesto, light on costings and detail although, presumably in return for the unwavering support of the gutter press, it is promising to give up on Leveson 2. So confident is it of the outcome that its leader has still declined to meet real people preferring staged events on the One Show or with supporters to debate and discussion. We do know that it would intend to use stealth taxes but is already having to talk about a U-turn on its social care reforms, quickly branded a dementia tax by its opponents, although it intends to press on with the removal of winter fuel allowances for pensioners and free dinners for primary school children, giving breakfast (at significantly less cost) instead to those who turn up unfed and early.

In the meantime  the Labour Party, whose policies appear to reflect the Scandinavian model rather than Marxist/Leninist ideology as some of the right wing media would have us believe, remains under fire for its leader who is frequently described as looking like a somewhat scruffy geography teacher. Clearly some hack, somewhere, was taught by a bearded, tieless pedagogue who bored him to tears and the label has stuck, perhaps unfairly. However with proposals to bring rail franchises back into public ownership, abolish student tuition fees and restore funding for the arts there are some exciting ideas to ponder over, although higher taxes for the richest 5% are presumably not going to be popular with many in that 5. 

The LibDems after their odious betrayal of the student vote in the 2010 election, are perhaps surprisingly trying to court the young person's vote all over again with the reinstatement of housing benefit for under-21s, a right to buy housing scheme and discounted bus passes. They are however going to add a penny onto the rate of income tax to pay for everything.

Most people I talk to are increasingly bored and frustrated by the proceeedings and still don't know which way to vote or if they'll even bother. We are being sucked into an election which is becoming increasingly presidential in nature and when people desire none of the party leaders they get turned off, whilst others are ready to vote based on what a leader looks or sounds like rather than considering their party's policies and the credentials of their local candidates. Of course I'll vote, but living in a constituency which would elect the proverbial donkey so long as it has a blue rosette around its neck,  my X on the ballot paper will hardly matter whichever box I put it in.

So, whilst I am now more comfortable with where that cross is going to go, it may be that the only election pledge that will resonate with the population is the LibDem's surprising commitment to legalising wacky baccy. After all if we are going down the pan, it might feel better to be high when we get washed away.



Monday, 10 April 2017

Perfume and Age



One of the benefits of attending exercise classes regularly is not the highly toned body that could result but rather the ready made group of like-minded people with whom you can share the pleasures of drinking and dining. This doesn't so much undermine the good work put in at the exercise studio but rather ensures that you return for more and work even harder to save spent calories for another meal out.

I can honestly say that I did not know any of my new found gym buddies prior to retiring and yet now they are one of the mainstays of my social life (well we all like food). They are also a source of encyclopedic knowledge, saving me hours of online research. 

For instance last Friday, the sun beating down as Spring very definitely arrived, we rounded off a hard week of Pilates, Fitball, Body Blitz, Yoga, Kinesis Hiit and Barre Concept with a short swim and a long laze in the outdoor hot tub. There then followed a quick stroll to a nearby hostelry where we discussed the topics of the day and put the world to rights.

Now for some time recently I have been aware that I am becoming somewhat indulgent with the bottled fragrances in my bathroom. I couldn't pinpoint the reason but Eau de Toilette, Eau de Parfum and even the highly powerful real stuff in the little bottles, once applied, just doesn't seem to hold its scent anymore. Of course that's not something I'd necessarily share, even with a gym bunny, but, to my surprise, it came up in conversation. What is more, I am certain that they hadn't sniffed out this issue on my part.

"Age and changing hormones," one lady declared.

"Fix it by applying Vaseline first," another responded.

Well it is certainly reassuring to know that I am not the only person to encounter this phenomenon. I confess that I even googled it afterwards and the underlying factor seems to be dry skin; a symptom of hormones and ageing, of course. I told you: those ladies have encyclopedic knowledge! 

 


Sunday, 19 March 2017

Magna Carta Part 3




This week I read "I Am Malala," gaining an insight into the growth of the influence of the Taliban in the Swat Valley in Pakistan, culminating in the shooting of Malala Yousafzai. We are hearing so much about the growth of populism in the West that sometimes one needs to be reminded that the political situation is far more dire in other parts of the world. The populace that could least afford it readily parted with cash and jewellery initially in the mistaken belief that the Taliban would bring about much needed change and so alleviate the difficulties under which they were living. Illiterate and uneducated people, suffering as a result of a lack of action by politicians and disinterest as to their plight, actually thought the Taliban might improve their lot. Malala is, of course, described as the girl who stood up for education and was shot by the Taliban.


After my visit to Runnymede the previous week, it was probably a fitting book to read. King John, forced to sign the Magna Carta by his Barons after squeezing as much gold from them as he could (in part to fight in Crusades against the Muslims of the Middle East), came the closest the UK has ever got  to having a written constitution. For the first time in the modern world the concepts of freedom and equality under the law were acknowledged in writing. Runnymede is even referred to as the birthplace of Human Rights' legislation.


Does anything really change though? 


The Kennedy Memorial on land gifted to the USA is also at Runnymede. The Memorial Stone sits at the top of 50 steps (one for each of the states) and is inscribed with an extract from the Declaration of Freedom in the inaugural address given by President JF Kennedy. 

"This acre of English ground was given to the United States of America by the people of Britain in memory of John F Kennedy President of the United States 1961-63 died by an assassin's hand 22 November 1963 Let every nation know whether it wishes us well or ill that we shall pay any price bear any burden meet any hardship support any friend or oppose any foe in order to assure the survival and success of liberty."


I think that there are certain leaders in the world today who could do with visiting this special place before we all turn in on ourselves and unpick the enormous progress made in the twentieth century towards lasting peace and understanding between nations and nationalities.

You may not agree with what New Labour stood for, but the mantra of "Education, Education, Education," surely has a resonance in these dark days. Certainly Malala and her father were and still are determined to fight for the right of all children, including girls, to be educated. In the words of Save the Children's Every Last Child campaign: "every child deserves a chance to grow up healthy, learning and safe."



As a prequel to reading Malala's book it was probably also fitting that our next stop was Oxford, a city steeped in learning since at least the 12th century. A reminder too though of the connection between the Church and education; historically the power of the Church over those who could neither read nor write; self enlightenment and development through literacy, study and understanding.







Oh my goodness, how I just love retirement. There's so much time to explore, absorb and then, almost best of all, try to collect my thoughts to write a blog entry about it afterwards.







Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Losing My Marbles and Other Things


I have experienced a difficult few days when my joy at becoming a scatty being has been offset by the realisation that this is not the state of nirvana I have been seeking in retirement. To throw away years spent honing my organisational skills and memory capacity is not the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow after all.

I may be searching for a simpler life but this does not mean I also want a simpler mind. Terrifyingly, in my quest for simplification, I may just have overdone it.


It all started, like the birth of modern democaracy, at Runnymede. In the process of taking one of a number of photographs, I failed to realise that I had dropped my camera case. Half a mile later the omission registered, steps were retraced and the bag was retrieved from the damp grass on which it was lying.

Never satisfied, however, I excelled myself the following morning. I must confess that I do have a previous history where hotel room key cards are concerned. Consequently I have vowed to be scrupulously careful in my handling of them, ever aided by all kinds of dire warnings from Mister E should I dare to even think of losing another. So it was that I set off for a pre-breakfast dip in the hotel pool, dutifully hanging onto the keycard at all costs. I waved it at the  man at the desk in order to enter the swimming area and promptly forgot all about it. I remembered, of course, when Mister E enquired as to its whereabouts, after I had knocked on our room door for him to open it.

Once again we retraced our steps but this time to no avail. So, original keycards cancelled, new ones provided and a full English breakfast consumed, we set out to walk along the Thames and into Oxford, a gentle stroll from where we were staying. After a while, I was obliged to stop so that I could adjust what was beginning to be a most uncomfortable sock. I untied my lace, removed my foot from shoe intending to smooth out the wrinkles which I could feel accruing but could find none. I peered into my shoe and there smiling up at me was the missing keycard. I had put it in a safe place after all.

Well you might think that would be the end of my appalling lapses for one weekend but worse was to follow. On returning home on Sunday, I opened the cloak cupboard to hang up my jacket and hanging from my peg was an item I did not recognise. Closer examination suggested that it was a similar colour and style to my winter coat but a size smaller and much more battered than I could recall. Somebody, somewhere must be wearing a woollen navy coat that's rather more generous across the chest and significantly smarter than theirs used to be.

Finally, just when you think your memory won't play any more tricks on you, at least not if you concentrate really hard, I lost my watch. It was AWOL for 40 hours during which time I had any number of imaginary conversations with the insurance company and police explaining how we must have been burgled in the dead of night without realising because I had definitely left it on the bathroom window ledge and, despite checking under the soap, toothpaste and even in the plug hole of the sink, it had disappeared without a trace. I found it late this afternoon, twinkling on the floor of the eldest's now vacated bedroom (yes he has flown to New Zealand), cupped in the sleeve of a discarded and dirty sweatshirt. How it got there shall remain one of life's mysteries.

So, enough of this carefree living; there are occasions when it is almost as stressful as working full-time. Indeed another valuable lesson has been learnt: just like everything else in life, the succesful navigation of  retirement needs ongoing organisational and observational skills . Disengagement of the brain can only lead to disaster.

Friday, 9 December 2016

The Long Commute




I have been doing a lot of commuting lately. Not that daily drudge but a weekly motorway trip to and from the Midlands as I immerse myself in DIY getting our rental property in Nottingham ready for re-letting. It's been an opportunity to call in on a friend en route, stay in one of our favourite hotels (offering cut price bargain rates in what was clearly a down season before the Christmas revels began in earnest) and brush up on my decorating skills. The intention to blog has always been there but, as on the month long trip to America that preceded this bout of industrial activity, there never seems to have been the time. Just like those old days of daily working and commuting perhaps.

Indeed sitting in the car one Tuesday evening as I sought to escape the city lights along with thousands of other road users, I was captivated by how many people repeat that inescapable journey not once a day but twice. Streams of cars held up by traffic light after traffic light and all jostling for position as two lanes meged into one and then back again. A toxic mix of brake lights and diesel fumes. I lie not, it took 54 minutes to travel 6 miles out of Nottingham and to the motorway!

Was I enraged? Far from it. In fact I convinced myself that in retirement we should all try an awful commute now and again, not to prove that we can still do it but rather to remind ourselves of one of the many joys of retirement: namely the ability to time our journeys to avoid queues.

Needless to say when we stayed there this week we deliberately left much later in the evening and had a quicker if less reflective journey. 

One of my pet hates at the moment though is air pollution. I had not expected to notice such a difference in air quality in the large cities of the USA but walking through Boston, Austin, San Diego and San Antonio those nasty vehicle emissions were hardly noticeable. There was a time when here in the UK people would laugh at a neighbour who chugged out in what was considered a cheap French import,  puffing clouds of exhaust fumes behind them. Then somebody must mistakenly have persuaded the Government that diesel was less harmful to the planet enabling it to be sold as cheap as, if not more cheaply than, petrol. Now almost everyone seems to drive an engine  powered by it, oblivious to the toxic health bomb they are helping to create.

Consider the description of diesel exhaust as taken here from Wikipedia: "Emissions from diesel vehicles have been reported to be significantly more harmful than those from petrol vehicles. Diesel combustion exhaust is a source of atmospheric soot and fine particles, which is a component of the air pollution implicated in human cancer, heart and lung damage, and mental functioning."

I know that in retirement many look to conserve their pounds, drive a smaller car and for less miles. So let's sit down and do the arithmetic. Work out what the premium for the diesel engine over the petrol one is; how many miles we are likely to drive; then the total cost compared to a petrol engine. Next when we know the saving (assuming there is one) add in the risk to our own health and that of everyone else breathing in the nitrogen oxides including the animals that we eat; the cost to and burden on the NHS (just when we approach a time in our lives when we may want to depend on it more often). It is estimated that in London 10,000 deaths a year (23,500 across the UK as a whole) are attributable to air pollution resulting in the Mayor only this week announcing a doubling of funding to try to tackle the crisis.  His announcement followed a report a week ago that Paris, Madrid, Athens and Mexico City plan to ban diesel vehicles by 2025. The world is waking up to the problem, and retirees must too.

If you are still not convinced, take a trip to the USA (paying to offset your carbon footprint of course) and note the difference as you travel its sidewalks. 

Sunday, 13 November 2016

A Letter to America




Dear America,

I have just returned from a 4 week stay in the USA in which Mister E and I have travelled from Boston to San Diego spending time in Massachusetts, South Carolina, Georgia, Texas and California. I can't claim to know you but we had a fantastic trip meeting many friendly people all in the grip of election fever. Fortunately we had the foresight to be flying home on election night at the same time as West Coast polling stations were thinking of closing.

We learnt the result at approximately 3am Pacific Coast time, speeding 34000 feet above the Atlantic with the assistance of a 120 mph tail wind. The British Airways Captain was ultra professional in the way he announced it: "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have received the result of the Presidential Election from Canadian Air Traffic Control. For those of you who wish to know it, I propose to give you it without comment: Trump 289 seats..."

I'm not sure that I even heard or took in Clinton's tally (at the time I think it was 218) but I had absorbed enough during my stay to know that 280 seats would clinch it. I looked across the aisle at the woman in the reclining seat opposite Mister E; she was stunned. The man at the other side of the screen to me appeared similarly dumbfounded. There was a collective silence; a mutedness that continued for the remainder of the journey.

Neither the result nor reaction was a surprise. Throughout our stay we have conversed with what the Press is now describing as suppporters of a liberal elite (I think they mean free thinkers); they were all united in their intense dislike of the racism, homophobia, hatred, misogyny, policies, political inexperience and lack of statesmanlike dignity of Trump. They were also all of the view that Clinton was not the best candidate the Democratic party could have fielded and that as a result Trump might just do it and he did.

Back in the UK political commentators have been falling over themselves to describe it as a bigger calamity than the Brexit Referendum result and indicative of far right nationalist forces at work across the globe feeding off the misery of the poor and those estranged from the  political classes. Our left wing politicians have been quick to condemn the approach outlined by Trump during his campaign trail; the right wing as espoused by the Prime Minister, Foreign Secretary and (good God no) UKIP big mouth, Farage, to express their willingness to work with the President-elect. Sycophancy at its worst.

The left of course sees it as further evidence of its interpretation of Brexit: a cry by the unemployed and working classes against privilege and political elitism. How else can those MPs now justify support for the triggering of Article 50 and our exit from the EU as well, conveniently, of retaining (they hope) the support of a small majority in their constituencies? Not surprisingly it might also help their re-election. 

The right see it as further legitimisation of the outcome of the referendum when 51.9% of the popular vote decided that despite 40 years' membership of a Union that has brought so many benefits to the UK, it should now turn its back on the source that has proven itself  able to deliver on human and workers' rights, clean air and water, food quality (the list goes on) but also and, just for the capitalists reading this, economic prosperity as a nation. The right too are banking on that 51.9% for re-election but won't yet call a General Election to actually test the water.

I remain to be convinced that the outcome of the UK's referendum and the Presidential Election is attributable to a surge in right wing nationalism arising from poverty and estrangement. Such similarities as there are lie more in the tactics deployed to manipulate a popular vote than the outcome. Politicians have long known that the easiest way in the world to grab votes is to peddle their policies for the masses, offering different sectors of the population what it thinks they want without coming clean on the effect on others or society as a whole; how easy to blame failing social and economic policies on foreign migrants; to whip up unity based on hatred and to tell lies. We all know politicians lie (isn't that why we are supposed to dislike them so much) but, when the media repeats those lies day in, day out, some of it sticks.

In the UK we were subjected to an appalling referendum campaign but in the area where the politicans ran a positive campaign, Scotland voted to remain. That's right: Scotland; a country which flies its own flag and is inhabited by raving nationalists and high unemployment, showed the people of the world that not all of the UK lives in fear of Eastern Europeans taking their jobs, Angela Merkel telling us that our supermarkets can only sell straight bananas or Jean Claude Junker taking NHS money to spend on undemocratic Parliaments in Brussels.

America, it was the same for you. Although only half of you bothered to turn out to vote the majority of those who did cast their vote for Clinton. Like the Brexiteers not everyone who voted for Trump is really racist; I'm pretty sure that they don't all support the views he expressed on abortion or gay people either and I'm fairly certain that you are not about to undergo a resurgence of nationalistic populism of the type expressed in the 1930's.

Ultimately and like the UK, you have a free press, the rule of law and the ballot box. What perhaps we both need, going forward, is a review of our election processes making them fit for the 21st century digital age and influence. Fortunately for you, there are already strong voices indicating that their opposition in Congress will be loud and effective and you get to go to the ballot box again in two years for those House of Representative seats that weren't up for grabs this time around. As here there will be instances of deplorables, as Clinton undiplomatically named them, thinking that the outcome has legitimised terror on those whom Trump has castigated in his rallying calls. As here, the rest of you (no matter for whom you voted) will refuse to condone such behaviour and will stand up against illiberal and unfair practice. Moreover you will do it in an upright and honest way with good faith and understanding and, unlike the voices in the wilderness currently agitating against a "hard" Brexit, you will know you are in a majority.

Yours sincerely,
Caree


Tuesday, 4 October 2016

A Bad Hair Day



Oh dear I have just had one of those awful 24 hour periods, an interruption to the otherwise halcyon days of retirement. 

It started yesterday when I climbed the step ladder intending to start painting the kitchen ceiling in the house that we let out. I noticed a slight bulge in the wallpaper on the adjoining wall, decided to investigate and next moment became involved in what felt like a serious demolition process as I stripped the wall back to the brickwork. I just hope the kitchen fitter who starts work next week is a competent plasterer too.

Returning home, however, my series of mishaps continued when I discovered a nail in the tyre of my car. Fortunately it is not yet deflating so I took it to the local tyre fitter who agreed he could repair rather than replace it. He went to retrieve the locking wheel nut remover from the spare wheel toolkit in the boot. Horror of horrors, it was missing. A thorough search of the car failed to locate it and slowly the truth dawned, I have never had cause to use it since buying the vehicle last March and in the early honeymoon days of bonding with the car never even thought about checking its presence. How does one argue the case with the garage that supplied the car?

Well I started by ringing; several times; nobody ever returned my call despite endless promises that they would do so. Tomorrow (assuming the tyre is not flat and the car driveable) I shall park myself on the forecourt in protest and have rung the gym to cancel my fitness classes in readiness. After all if good fortune decides to do the dirty on me, I am not giving up without a fight.

My next run in with Lady Luck followed fairly quickly when I went to the hairdressers for a cut and colour. I agreed to try something different so long as it wasn't purple. When, after two hours, I emerged from under the towel looking a little like Cruella de Vil, even the stylist's face fell. It took another two hours to remedy the situation even if I am now sporting a sophisticated ash blonde look when I all I had been expecting were fair highlights.

Then when you think nothing else can go wrong, my computer very clearly said "no." Switching it on a message appeared suggesting that crucial hard or software (it knew not which) was missing and I needed to reload the original installation programmes. Fortunately I had made an installation back up as well as storing copies of all my documents and media in "the Cloud", but it still took hours to retrieve everything.

At the end of the evening I sit here slightly reeling. I've never experienced a day like it! Still it just goes to show, retirement isn't always plain sailing or uninterrupted joy.

Friday, 2 September 2016

Jason Bourne


The natural world was thrown aside in favour of car chases and violence this week when we went to see "Jason Bourne," the newly released sequel to the four previous films based on Robert Ludlum's books. Matt Damon gave his all again returning to a role that this time smacked of Bond without the dress suits and one liners but which easily matched Shwarzenegger in Conan the Barbarian for testosterone and bare chests. I checked my watch only twice during the showing; a reputable indicator of either the film's entertainment value or Damon's pectoral muscles.

When I returned home I switched on my PC to be greeted by the usual swathe of newsfeed advertising. One was a curious promotion that proclaimed: "Live longer by avoiding men." 

I do fear this so-called intelligent advertising. Usually it is so stupid that it invariably pushes items that I have already ordered online. Sometimes however it seems to spookily read my thoughts or more likely a recent search term. On this occasion, surely it didn't link the purchase of the cinema tickets online with the dangers of watching male egos fight it out on the movie screen? Big Brother protects me from myself.

Alternatively, perhaps it has detected my postings to a retirement blog and in which case am I shortly to be inundated on posts about sheltered accommodation, zimmer frames and funeral plans? Darn.. I wish I hadn't typed those terms; I may be retired but I'm not yet ready for horlicks and early nights.


Wednesday, 3 August 2016

The Worrying is Over for the Moment




It seems that as we age, we are more likely to suffer from anxiety (a generalised anxiety disorder being the most common diagnosis) than dementia. Cynics amongst us might say that is because we all start to worry about suffering from dementia. I'm not convinced, at least not when I wake in the middle of the night and wonder if the tomatoes are ripening. That  said if moonshine doesn't really mature tomatoes and turn their skins red, it could be dementia itself (rather than a heightened level of concern) that causes ludicrous thoughts at unearthly hours.

Anyway in search of calmness and tranquility away from all the worries that go with raising fruit and vegetables, the youngest and I took ourselves off for an extended day at the gym. A workout and then yoga were followed by an afternoon in the spa. Sauna, hot-tub, steam room, tepidarium, tropicarium, igloo and pool; we emerged relaxed, albeit a littled wrinkled on the fingers from all the water.

Now if you don't believe in the reputed beneficial health effects of a spa, please don't mock because our day clearly produced good karma. Not only did we feel well but, on my foraging trip into the greenhouse this evening, guess what I finally picked to go with the lettuce and cucumber? Yes...ripe red cherry tomatoes!



Tuesday, 28 June 2016

The Great Big Fall Out




I was hoping not to blog about the aftermath of the referendum again but after a long journey to and from Scotland today I felt I had to. The Scottish journey (a swift reconnoitre to explore options in the event of a second independence referendum?) is probably irrelevant, save that it meant a lot of time was spent listening to the radio when I could hardly believe what I was hearing about recent hate crime, the recriminations and party games being played out at Westminster and now, of course, the young people of London have marched to the Houses of Parliament to show the strength of their upset.

I can't say that the EU is something I feel any more passionate about than Jeremy Corbyn allegedly does. It's been around now so long, it's just a comfortable pair of carpet slippers and imagine having a referendum over those. Like most people I know, however, I could see that to try to unpick a system that we have lived by, built on and fully integrated into our business life and economy for over 40 years, could only bring volatility and upset. I didn't fall for Project Fear and am sure that given time and good Government which sadly we are currently lacking, things will calm down although it seems inevitable that the economy will shrink and there will be further austerity measures, but for how long, of course, nobody can say. 

My main concern in voting Remain was to try to counter the hatred and racism that I could see an Out vote unleashing and to prevent a take over of the elected Government by its extreme right. Unfortunately 51.9% of the electorate were against me and because nobody thought to require a two thirds majority or whatever level would have been appropriate to alter the status quo we are where we are. Just imagine if every  local club, partnership, company board and organisation voted for major decisions on such a basis, there would be complete chaos and fall outs every time an important issue had to be decided upon.

Being on the wrong side of an election outcome is nothing new and I am resigned to it. I have lived in one of the strongest Conservative held seats in the country for over thirty years, so as somebody who never votes Tory feel pretty much disenfranchised anyway. 

What does concern me though is not only the apparent absence of leadership (we should have a new Prime Minister by a date in September, three months away with the country already in melt down), but also the escalating hate crime. For instance who would believe, if it hadn't been videoed, that grown men in Manchester would feel that they could legitimately abuse an American who has lived here for 18 years on a public tram, because he is a foreigner. 

In the meantime and because statistics released show that the younger the voter (yes I bucked the trend) the more likely they are to have voted Remain, I now find Social Media full of older adults, who really should know better, calling those young people scum, wasters and other terms that I would prefer not to repeat. The posts are usually against photographs of the Great War suggesting that in some way the youth of today don't understand the hard realities of life and sacrifices that have been made for them. When the  Treaty of Rome was signed back in 1957 it was, of course, intended as a way to rebuild Europe and ensure that nations with long histories of strife between them would trade rather than fight and in which respect it has been an overwhelming success. What is wrong therefore with anyone, especially the young, wanting to remain in such an organisation which, when I think of it, is now beginning to sound much better than those old worn slippers?

With an outcome so close and of such consequence, those who feel sore at losing have full right to give voice to their frustrations especially when they believe that the result was affected by deliberate lies and propaganda. Yes the nation now needs to unite but in a way where, so far as possible, everyone can be acknowledged. Boris Johnson tried to start the process with his letter in the Telegraph yesterday but, as usual is living in dreamland. It was however a recognition of what is needed, in trying to reach out to everyone (albeit conveniently forgetting promises he had made along the way). 48.1% of the electorate cannot and will not be ignored, especially if they are young and passionate. The UK did not vote to eject foreigners from our soil. 51.9%, however, voted to leave the EU. We are all affected, feeling helpless and hurting in some way. A strong leader is needed to sort out the aftermath and in the meantime we all need to behave like adults and do everything we can to prevent hostility and division.




Saturday, 25 June 2016

#More in Common




Apart from the result, of course, there are two other worrying outcomes of the referendum. The first is the apparent total absence of any plan to implement an Out vote and since yesterday's announcement that he would be resigning, any visible leadership from the Prime Minister or indeed anyone in Government.

The second is the indisputable fact that the outcome has legitimised divisions between the 51.9% who voted Out and the 48.1% who voted to remain, as well as between the various sectors of society.

It is  only last week that an MP was brutally murdered outside her constituency surgery by a thug who from the name he gave to the Court subsequent to his arrest (Death to Traitors, Freedom for Britain) appears to think he was acting in Britain's interest. I have already blogged about the absurd unleashing of hatred as a result of the referendum campaign and remain concerned about living in a country where our fair and liberal values appear to be at risk or undermined.


On Wednesday I attended the More in Common event in Trafalgar Square, a memorial for Jo Cox, MP on what would have been her 42nd birthday. She had worked hard throughout her short life for those in need at home and abroad and was a genuine humanitarian. The occasion was sombre and very moving. So much so that by the time the cast from Les Miserables appeared on stage to perform "Do You Hear the People Sing" there could hardly have been a dry eye in London.

I don't want to have a retirement where the movement of myself and others is restricted; where there is unnecessary hatred and prejudice; where the politics of the country are isolationist, inward looking, arrogant, mean or small-minded. As Jo Cox in her maiden speech said, "We are far more united and have far more in common than that which divides us."


Those present in Trafalgar Square pledged to Love Like Jo. It is a vow that all of us now need to take if we are to get through the chaos and difficult days, months or even years that lie ahead.

Friday, 24 June 2016

Wrong Vibes



I spent most of this week in London, rushing back by train on Thursday to the ballot box. The vibes in London, which has to be the greatest cosmopolitan city on Earth, were such that I was convinced that the result of the EU Referendum campaign would be a decisive vote for Remain. 

Totally exhausted from the long days walking pavements (London may be cosmopolitan but its concrete slabs are hard on the soles), I did not have the energy to stay up late to watch the early results come in and instead got up at 6am to dash downstairs and seek confirmation of the result.

Needless to say I was rendered speechless as shock gripped me and I realised that all the weeks of unsavoury rhetoric had not repulsed the electorate after all. An attempt to silence the extreme right in the Tory party had backfired and we are now committed to leaving the European Union after forty years.

Apart from the lunatic fringe, nobody seemed to be celebrating, not even the victors. Reality suggested that there was no obvious plan to move things forward and as the pound plummeted and the Prime Minister (when did I ever think I might be sad to see David Cameron go so quickly) announced his intention to resign, we appeared to be both leaderless and without direction. I guess it's at times like these that tin pot nations are taken over by military coups but apart from some soothing words from the Governor of the Bank of England (a foreigner taking a Briton's job apparently) shell-shock reigned supreme.

Of course there are all kinds of theories as to why the vote went the way that it did. Why did hard core Labour supporters vote against their party and with extreme neo-facists? Was it a vote against austerity without realising that we could now end up with a government that cares far more for the politics of capitalism than the current regime? Was it swung by mavericks who thought their vote wouldn't count and the establishment (along with virtually every so-called expert) would get its way regardless? Or was it, as in the case of one woman I saw interviewed, because the local council has closed the public toilets in her home town? I know sh*t happens, but seriously?

It doesn't matter; the fact is that we are leaving and suddenly life seems potentially scarier and more uncertain than it was. Retirement plans certainly need to be re-evaluated. A forever home in a warmer climate for instance would be burdened with issues; petrol costs are likely to increase making road trips more expensive; guaranteed increases in the State Pension (if I live long enough to reach an age when I can claim it) may be consigned to history; further austerity cuts (not immigration) could increase waiting lists for the NHS just as bodily parts begin to deteriorate. Without the EU will my children benefit from the workers' rights that have been implemented over recent decades or will they be chipped away at bit by bit? Will they have the advantages of living in a "green and pleasant land" or will the environmentally friendly policies of the EU be abandoned to allow farmers for instance greater freedom in lieu of their subsidies that may now reduce?

Curiously we have been told that the older the voter, the more likely they were to vote leave. The generation that  has never had it so good in part because of the EU has pulled up the draw-bridge and for what? Nobody seems to know the answer apart from some silver tongued privileged blokes who like being photgraphed with pints in their hands as though they speak for the common man whilst talking in riddles.

I certainly hope the electorate hasn't been completely hoodwinked; that Europe doesn't implode as a result of our decision to walk away from the table at a time when global pressures require more unity not separation; that a deep and prolonged recession can be avoided and, most importantly, that we can counter the hatred building up on our streets.

There's a lot of reshaping to do and not just for retirement.