Posts

Showing posts with the label Learning

A December Treat

Image
  Yesterday I had one of my regular monthly meet-ups with a very dear friend. In the summer months, we normally include a long walk in our itinerary; in the winter we tend to fequent museums and art galleries. There was no mistaking what time of year it was on this occasion, not least when we had a mince pie each with our coffee. I set off in the dark and returned in the dark, there was a definite chill to the air and the trains I used to reach our rendezvous were crowded with Christmas shoppers and charity fund raisers dressed as elves! It is often said that, in the words of TS Eliot, "The journey, not the destination matters." In so far as I enjoyed the thrill of the train ride, I agree. I used a newly downloaded app to be guided to the correct platform for train changes and daringly managed the whole trip with only digital barcodes on my phone; both novel experiences for this retired traveller who normally likes to err on the side of caution with everything printed out in

Show-Time

Image
  On Friday we went to a House Building and Renovation Show. After building our current home (well we didn't actually lay the bricks ourselves, but you get my gist) 24 years ago, we do not have any intention of repeating the experience in retirement. We love the finished product but the memory of the stress and hassle of getting there, militates against doing it all again. A sport for younger people you might say. We've always been happy with our home, so much so that, and despite the decluttering, we still haven't seriously contemplated down-sizing which I'm advised is a must at some point in the future. As for remodelling, well that's always sounded like even more hassle than building afresh.  We were potentially the show's most lukewarm visitors, surrounded as we were by a throng of amateur but enthusiastic would-be developers. Our presence was, of course, encouraged by the thought that ripping our house apart to deal with the contamination under it could be

A Distraction

Image
  Somebody recently told me that they'd enjoyed modelling, participating as a favour at a charitable event for the first time this summer. Handbags, sunglasses and high heels with quick changes in between each outfit. In retirement I'm keen to try many things but I'm definitely not glamorous enough to ever consider stepping onto a catwalk, so felt in no way tempted to give it a go. Earlier in the month , however, I referred to my need for active diversions to the ongoing headache caused by the oil leak. Last week, I too found it in modelling. In my case, however, it was of the clay variety when I signed up for a Highland Cow Sculpting workshop. Didn't I just love it. A far cry from the plasticine of my childhood, clay is altogether more malleable if somewhat messier too. I even got to play with an extruder in order to create all that long hair. My piece has now gone to be fired and although there's every probability that it will have crumbled before we're reunit

Bitter Sweet

Image
  It is said that when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. Embrace positivity and turn your misfortune into a beneficial and perhaps even enjoyable experience. I thought I'd come up with something similar within the constraints of my greenhouse recently. Somebody earlier in the year suggested that I grow cucamelons. I confess that I found the prospect of growing a cross between a melon and a cucumber rather exciting, duly sowed the seeds and nurtured the seedlings that followed. There was no hint on the seed packet as to how large the fruit grew and I think, understandably, I was expecting something perhaps mango sized.  When the plants became overcome by tiny fruit, at best 2 centimetres in length, I reached out to colleagues in the village gardening club for guidance. The consensus was that this was the limit of their size and that they go well as an addition to cocktails as well as being eaten as a sweet canap é . Reader, to my mind, they can best be described as an

A Reminder to Myself

Image
  When you are working so often busyness, stress and fatigue are held up like an award of honour displayed proudly on your chest. In reality they are debilitating and in due course exhaustion can lead to burn out. There are still occasions when I feel overburdened but unlike my pre-retirement days it's so much easier to remedy the situation. This week, as well as all the cleaning up from last week's disasters and on top of my normal schedule, I've put myself under pressure by seeking to dig over, compost and re-mulch the garden whilst the sun shines and before the clay soil turns once again to something that resembles concrete. Contemporaneously I'm trying to build in a variety of self watering systems based on wicking and capillary actions. There are seedlings to transplant and pot on, as well as more seeds to be sown directly into vegetable  beds. It's a race against time and it feels like I'm losing. Nowadays I know that the most important things in life are

Brevity

Image
  I know food inside packaging is shrinking as manufacturers try to convince us that the current round of price rises isn't as bad as we know it to be. But surely that shouldn't apply to books as well? "Brevity is the soul of wit," says Polonius in Shakespeare's Hamlet (an ironic point for a character who was somewhat verbose). Perhaps I'm just stumbling across particularly clever literature, but if a book length of 70 pages or so is gripping then, a little like the chocolates in the box on the supermarket shelf, I want more. Conversely if the writing is awful then you might think I've been relieved of the chore of turning too many pages. Since resolving not to stick with disappointing novels , whether it's a novella or trilogy I can, of course, just as easily ditch both at an early point. No, my complaint here is that for some curious reason the books I have been reading this year are much shorter than I had expected. I suppose that comes from taking

Joy

Image
  It's quite common in some of the Yoga sessions I attend for the instructor to open the class with a poem. Something short and meaningful that we can hold onto. A calming theme to focus on during the practice perhaps. Maybe my mind is just too active because it doesn't always have that effect. Yesterday was one of those instances and on this occasion the poem was called "Joy Chose You," by Donna Ashworth. She has the whole piece on her Facebook page if you are interested in reading it but in it she indicates that we "usher joy away because (we) are not ready for it." Instead we can be too busy getting our home clean and tidy or trying to perfect our lives or earn money, all so that we can live happily.  Joy, Ashton points out, however, "cares nothing for your messy home, or your bank balance or your waistline." Instead she claims it works by sneaking into the "cracks of your imperfect life" so you cannot invite it in, but only be ready

Cavemen

Image
  The fight or flight response which apparently evolved as a survival mechanism is still with us today. I was reminded of this twice in recent days. The first was when reading an article in the Guardian newspaper on studies showing that moderate stress is actually good for  us. The second was in a video from Action for Happiness where there was reference to negativity being a common human disposition arising from the need of our ancestors to be ever vigilant and on their guard, ready to fight or flee at all times. So there I was in recent blog entries revelling in the concept of finally learning to relax, when all along it seems that it's not necessarily a natural state and that a degree of stress actually promotes longevity. My inevitable reaction was that to be expected of the negative, cynical person that I am, namely: but cavemen never got the opportunity to retire and didn't live very long either! Obviously nothing that I have read this week alters the fact that chronic s

A Night for Reflection

Image
  New Year's Eve, a night for reflection when, as you may have gathered from my blog post here yesterday I am hardly in the party mood; instead I am full of cold and sick of people! Well the latter isn't qute true but you get my drift. Once upon a time when I was relatively young, staying in at New Year would have resulted in the initiation of a full medical examination. These days I don't even suffer from that relatively new disease known as the Fear of Missing Out. In fact, looking at posts by friends on my Facebook Timeline not to mention WhatsApp messages, staying in could even be the new normal. It seems I have reached the age when people wish you a Happy New Year at 8pm before disappearing to bed with a good book and a yawn. That's retired living for you; a few days of merriment at Christmas and it's enough partying for the rest of the year. Before I jump on the bandwagon and head up the stairs myself, I thought I really should take a moment to reflect on 202

Let It Go

Image
  Over the years I have adopted the habit of reading the Booker prize short-list. As a consequence I often find myself immersed in a tremendous book.  Long reservation times at the library mean that I am still waiting for some of the novels that were so accoladed this year to become available. To date, however, I can only express my disappointment, especially as the last specimen took me 3 weeks of hard graft and dedication to complete. I confess, tholokuti (is that enough to tell you which book it was?), I could easily have been persuaded to cease reading it altogether except, without skipping to the final page and despite it being an allegory and political satire where I surely knew the ending, I did want confirmation of what happened next. I was inevitably disappointed by my chore of endurance. In fact, I almost convinced myself that I had just forgotten how to enjoy a book when my usual pattern is to become so absorbed that I complete any novel within 2 to 3 sessions and then have

Feel the Joy

Image
 There are occasions in exploring retirement that I feel I am sampling things so that others don't have to. An example arose this week when I decided to read "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying," by Marie Kondo. The KonMari Method and decluttering are now synonymous. Whilst we've probably all heard about her strategy of holding an object to see if it sparks joy, I decided it was time to see if there was anything more that I could learn. Into my 9th year of retirement and, regardless of the progress made, I still wonder if I shall ever reduce possessions to the point where I can give myself a well-deserved "Job Done" and accompanying pat on the back. Turning the pages, I quickly learnt that the preferred strategy is to get stuck in and aim to complete the task as quickly as possible and in any event in no more than 6 months. Whatever have I been doing for the past 8 and a half years, I wondered? Obviously not putting our house in order once and forever, as sh

Double Deckers

Image
    You know that saying? "Just like double decker buses. You wait ages and then two come along at once." Well I've been living the experience, and after waiting a whole twelve months, two arrived together. Mister E and I, however, managed to miss both. I am, of course, talking nuptials. It's a year now since the eldest and Dilly were married but marked on our calendar for the weekend just gone were the weddings of both a niece and a nephew, the first on Saturday and the other on Sunday. The consecutive scheduling may not have been perfect, especially as we were due to return from holiday only on the Friday afternoon, but hey you only live once and the busier the better! Except it was not to be. That nasty Coronavirus finally caught both of us simultaneously and we've been stuck at home, coughing and spluttering. I wouldn't care but I'd even had my 4th vaccination only 3 weeks before; invincible, we are clearly not. When I've devoted time of late on th

If it's Wednesday, Where Am I?

Image
 I don't know how everyone else manages but there are occasions when I just find retirement so exhausting. Take travel for instance: following the trip to Lincolnshire, Northamptonshire and Rutland we had a 2 night sojourn before making a 6 hour dash by road up to Oban to prepare the retirement project for lifting-out ready for winter onshore.  We followed two nights there with a long drive home for a pit stop before setting off next morning to explore parts of Yorkshire that we are less familiar with, staying over in Ilkley and then venturing to Saltaire the next day. The Rivers Wharfe and Aire may not be quite up to David Livingstone standards but exploration and discovery enliven even when they are just round the corner, so to speak. Salts Mill and the village surrounding it were particularly fascinating and lived up to their designation by UNESCO as a World Heritage site. Visiting so many places in such a short period of time, however, might get the blood and energy flowing b

Imperial Connections

Image
    Just when you think those in charge couldn't get more ridiculous, today we learn that a benefit of Brexit is that we might want to return to Imperial measurements instead of those nasty European metric ones. Curiously a map of the world circulating online suggests that apart from the USA, Myanmar and Liberia every other country is fairly content with counting in tens and thousands. I guess those of us who are retired represent pretty much the last generations to have struggled at school adding and subtracting in £sd, as well as memorising all those weird and wonderful weights and measures. Unsurprisingly there doesn't seem to be an abundance of enthusiasm for our great leadership's latest contribution to the transformation of the country into a complete and utter laughing stock. Mr Johnson may very much want to see a Crown on his glass every time he toasts a departing member of staff, but he has overlooked once again that the rest of us don't get to party quite as o

A Nostalgia Trip

Image
  I still haven't given up on my desire for a clutter free home, where everything is in order and I know where it all is. Slowly we are getting there and the last week has seen progress in what we commonly refer to as the Store Cupboard: a large walk-in narrow room, shelved from floor to ceiling, although why we felt the need to cram so much into the standing space from which to access those shelves, I honestly do not know. I am proud to say that it is now tidied and a surfeit of unnecessary paraphernalia, buried in there for two decades has, at long last, found its way to the dustbin. Whilst I wouldn't automatically descibe myself as a hoarder, there can be no doubt that I have a soft spot for sentimental items. Luckily the ageing process seems to have toughened me over the years and the accumulation of memorabilia has slowly ceased or, as in the case of photographs, gone digital. It's many years now for instance since I divested myself of all my theatre programmes and eve