A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  I thought I'd acquired more patience with mindless bureaucracy in retirement. Imagining a surfeit of time, no deadlines, flexible living, you'd definitely think that patience would be added to the list. Certainly retirement started out very much in that vein . Perhaps I'm turning into the proverbial grumpy old woman or standards are just slipping, but sadly the last week or two have demonstrated that irritation rather than tolerance is scoring higher on my roll of reactions at present. Starting with the clowns who were responsible for the remediation work to our property: they only forgot to tell Building Control that they'd finished. Let's hope the Inspector doesn't want our tiles and cupboards pulling out to inspect the completed floors underneath! Then there's all the health and care workers I've been liaising with of late trying to resolve issues for my mother. Over promising and under delivering seems to be the hallmark of their services at presen...

    I had intended to write a blogpost on 9th May about the VE Day tea party the day before at the almshouses where I am a trustee. Normally I'm somewhat sceptical of such events, when so many lend themselves to hijacking in the cause of jingoism. This party had, however, been requested by the residents in circumstances where at least half of them still had memories of the end of the war back in 1945. It succeeded in hitting the right note when the Chairman asked everyone to acknowledge those who had sacrificed their lives and although there was flag waving (for a press photo) and singing; Rule Britannia and its ilk were avoided. The residents themselves had assisted in the preparation of the decorations including jars of flowers, where the red, white and blue effect was valiantly achieved with the help of a permanent marker pen! In any event, I digress because there is a reason why I never wrote that blog entry and it came in the shape of a wonderful 2.48kg bundle when Dilly ...

  The spin dryer on our trusty washing machine has broken. Instead of turning at 1200 rpm, it moans, groans, and twirls at maybe 60 rpm. How long do we expect to hang onto our white goods for? This one has served us well for just over 15 years and to be honest after a year stagnating in the garage whilst its home in the utility room was dug out, we never expected it to work again. It surprised us, however, and seemed keen to spring back into life, even if I did have to run a few seriously hot washes and a descaling cleaner to get rid of the musty smell that had built up inside. Now, some six weeks later it has slowly ground to a halt. The washing has literally been hung out to dry as a consequence. A big decision  had to be made; did we seek to have it repaired or was it time to buy a new one? You might recall we had this exact same dilemma in 2019. Back then and in an effort to boost our green credentials, we relied on the repair man and it proved to be a wise decision....

  Experience suggests that the weather is always somewhat disappointing on a Bank Holiday weekend. The last three days have been no exception. We've had a couple of minor rain showers but mainly it's because of the way temperatures have plummeted after last week's magnificent highs. Not that I've ever felt particularly affected in retirement, after all there's always the week before and the week after to revel in, with the genuine prospect of some good days amongst them. Whilst a dismal Bank Holiday Monday was a source of grief when working, in retirement it hardly matters especially as generally we try to stay put and avoid the crowds.   With favourable albeit cooler conditions outside, I've been trying to bring a sense of order back to the rather overgrown wilderness that is our garden. Of course, it's not the best time for pruning with birds nesting all over the place and digging over borders has been a non-starter as the ground is currently like concrete...

  With all this glorious Spring weather, I certainly feel grateful to be back at home. The joys of pottering in the garden and listening to the birds singing are mine once more. Everything has burst into flower, especially the apple blossom and, so long as we do get rain before too long, it looks as though it could be an impressive crop.       Mind it's not the only plant that's proudly strutting its flowers at the moment. I have a cactus that's over 30 years old and can usually be relied on for a delightful display of colour at this time of year. Last year, in exile, however, it didn't bother. I know how it felt! This year, it's clearly glad to be home, just like me. In retirement we've reached an age where hopefully we feel comfortable in our own skin, our slippers and  our hearth-side. I don't actually have a fireplace, but I get the meaning. After a whole year adrift off foreign shores, finally I feel content once again. The bags or should I say plethora...

  I think it's well understood that as we get older we can find it harder to recall information and easier to misplace items. Just like the rest of the body, the brain begins to show its age too. I'm fortunate in that, to date, I have always had a good memory but, like everyone, I can and do mislay things. Experience over the years has suggested, however, that most things I lose are invariably found in the first place I look, although rarely on the first occasion that I look there. Commonsense suggests, of course, that they would hardly be mislaid if I immediately found them where I thought they were. Historically the main items that go walk about in my particular case are keys and spectacles. Recently I was unable to find my house keys. I was certain that I had them when we moved and the first place I searched was my gym bag after a hunch that I'd put them there on my first gym visit after our move. Despite emptying the bag of its contents, they were not there and searchin...

  After my last blogpost, you'd be forgiven for thinking I'd dashed off for a sabbatical on a desert island thus explaining my apparent absence from this platform. Sadly, and much as I might wish otherwise, I've instead been maintaining the huge effort required to re-establish our home. I'm not sure if it's age that's catching up with me but I'm certainly not finding it as easy as I might have imagined. There again being forced to knuckle down in retirement and tackle work that I would not have chosen, if it weren't for the circumstances, is a strange phenomenon after the carefully orchestrated freedom of the past decade. That said, I did manage to squeeze 6 nights in London when I helped out with Grandotty's childcare. I'm unsure what the expectations of me were but, for some bizarre reason, the Eldest and Dilly seemed to think I was the ideal person to  sort potty training. Perhaps they assumed that my memory would extend back 30 plus years to ...