A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  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

  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

  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

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

 In my last blog post, to my shame almost 3 weeks ago now, I indicated that I was ready to get out and attack life again. Not one to do things by halves, I haven't really stopped, certainly not for long enough to write here. In fact it's all felt a bit Alice in Wonderlandish. Caree nods off to sleep, falls down a rabbit hole and wakes up in a mad, mad world.  So February has seen me dashing to London by train; spending days playing with Grandotty and her toys; catching up again with my fitness until my muscles have screamed in agony, grown tongues of their own and begged me to stop; on a whim repainting a kitchen door and then finding myself drawn into decorating the whole caboodle and it's still ongoing. We've even been to a Mad Hatter's tea party or was it my brother's 60th birthday lunch, followed by tea and cake? There have been catch ups with friends over coffee and more lunch, medical appointments and all the usual wider family get togethers, chores and v

  Like every new year, January started off with so much promise. After it did its best to impede my ability to breathe let alone exercise by knocking me down with a never-ending head cold and then spent most days tossing rainwater from the sky, I can't say I'm sorry to see its departure. Of course there were the good bits, like my nephew's wedding and our week away in the Lake District, but generally speaking  I confess I'm just glad it's gone. Restored and revitalised, I want to get out and attack life again. However, I've read so much of late written by people decrying the month of January that I can't help wondering if I'm simply living in an echo chamber. After all its hardly fair to blame a period of 31 days banded together under no more than the name of a month for either my woes or the weather. I may have felt that my role as an explorer of retirement was temporarily suspended but I still made headway with some serious decluttering, totally emptyi

  We spent last week in the Lake District, treated to the torrential rain and wind provided by not one but two storms. On the plus side, as the height of the beck outside rose and rose, it was a great excuse to simply stay in on a couple days  to play with our granddaughter who joined us there with her parents, the Eldest and Dilly.  The net result was that I made up for the lack of fell walking by the number of circuits completed around the sofa chasing one small toddler who is now so confident on her feet that she is trying to run whilst squealing with delight. If that wasn't exhausting in itself, the lively debates that happen with an eleven month old certainly are. Armed only with a vocabulary of four words she can certainly argue. The first two words are obviously Mummummum and Dadada but when the second two are very clearly "yes" and "no," the adults are in trouble! If I had any doubts whatsoever on the reproductive score, I now fully comprehend why givin