A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

My To Do List habit is something that I have carried over from diligence in the workplace. I'd like to be able to describe it as a thing of beauty but in reality it is on the one hand the bane of my life, on the other potentially the only item on which I can rely to maintain order. I keep it in a specifically designed app that is available on all my devices as both a standalone schedule and also a daily precursor to calendar entries. Essentially there is no hiding from it. Some days it is a monster with a controlling claw, on others a tawdry specimen that can easily be ignored. There are chores that repeat, reminders for bill payments and other deadlines, nudges for seasonal tasks in the garden and so the list goes on. There are some days when I wonder  if the time I expend reallocating dates for jobs on the list could perhaps have been more usefully  deployed tackling those items. On other occasions, I sail through the list, ticking off every item for the day and reaching the...

  I have recently returned from a family trip to the eastern Algarve where we rented a villa and spent our days on the beach running in and out of the sea and building sandcastles. A reminder of childhood holidays from yore, except there was no need for a windbreak and we also forsook the opportunity for sandwiches with tiny fragments of grit in them for a small choice of coastal restaurants and cafes. The sun shone everyday; temperatures were warm and best of all tourist numbers were low meaning we frequently had a vast area of seashore to ourselves. The packing to get there was another matter. No feelings of warm nostalgia when it became a mammoth operation to accommodate a mountain of nappies, books, toys, baby clothing and essentials, despite our rental property being fully equipped. Does every generation invariably weigh itself down with more and more stuff? I certainly don't recall travelling with so much when the Eldest and Youngest were little but then my own parents probab...

  The hallmark of retirement has to be opening the door to a raft of new experiences. This can involve travelling, but more and more frequently I have found that the time retirement bestows enables unfamiliar adventures much closer to home. Indeed fresh perspective and novel opportunities can often arise unexpectedly and from out of the routine and mundane. This past week has been no exception. Following on from the acquisition of The Bug , I decided that I was too cowardly to try out the self parking function alone so called into the car dealership where the salesman was more than willing to show me the vehicle's capability. Nothing ventured, nothing gained but apart from deriving a good laugh at The Bug's choice of parking spaces (at one point it parked on the access route between two rows of parked cars, blocking everyone else in) and failure to recognise all the obvious ones, it is not a function I anticipate much need for. Indeed the demonstration convinced me that I have ...

  I had an unexpected visit to the dentist today. Unexpected on two scores: first, because I never thought it possible to ring at 3pm and get an appointment for 4.15 pm (courtesy of a last minute cancellation); second, because apart from check ups I have had no need for dental treatment for over 40 years. Unfortunately that changed when, chewing on a slice of toast (I swear it wasn't even crisp) a molar at the back of my mouth broke. I wasn't in any pain but knowing from the experiences of Mister E that these things, if left, tend to fester and cause problems when you least want them, decided to get it checked over as soon as possible. Now on my last foray for dental treatment, back in my twenties, I recall being absolutely petrified. It was for a filling and a decade had passed since the sadist who posed as my childhood dentist had wielded a drill in my direction and filled my back teeth; no anaesthetic, nothing but the drill constantly hitting a nerve and he insisting it woul...

Back in the early days of retirement I acquired a new car . I freely admitted on this blog that, of habit, I gave all my cars names and on that occasion, over 10 years ago now, the vehicle was named Miss Scarlet. Until the last 12 months we have had a happy relationship and I confess that I had never before hung onto a car so long. On reflection, however, my very first motor car (Sunshine Brum Brum - it was a rather bright and distinctive yellow) was elderly when I acquired it and probably outdid Miss Scarlet in vehicular years when, for reasons of reliability, we were obliged to part company. I have discovered in retirement that dependability is not quite as important as it was when the daily commute to work was a necessity. Cancelling or postponing leisure plans is no big deal and where I feel that I am obligated to commit, then cadging a lift from Mister E  has worked well too. Unfortunately there comes a time when, after a couple of big repairs, the fear of continuously haemorr...

We have just returned from one of our twice yearly stays in the Langdale Valley in the Lake District. It is not unusual for an August visit to be tinged with hints of autumn. This year, however, we were surprised to note that yellowing leaves and the first signs of autumnal colours are more noticeable at home in  North Yorkshire, attributable, I guess, to our summer of drought. The Lake District never seems to suffer from a shortage of rain, or at least not when we visit. This year was no exception and whilst the weather was warm, we certainly experienced some atrocious downpours.  We were delighted to be accompanied by all the family including, of course, Grandotty and Little Sister. The great benefit of grandchildren those ages (two and a half and  four months) is that neither is particularly suited for long and high fell walking. This means that Grandma had the perfect excuse, in addition to her dodgy knee, to opt out too and instead spent her days by the river, tracki...

  One of my pleasures in retirement has been my garden, particularly the  greenhouse and vegetable patch. Sadly, because of the excavation work that took place starting in the autumn of 2023 and followed in 2024 by our vacating the house, the whole garden has been very much neglected. I had to abandon any thought of planting this year when there were so many other chores to contend with inside the house, after we returned at the end of March.  In light of the persistent dry conditions and high temperatures, a fallow plot may well have been fortuitous and, with the hosepipe ban, has certainly saved me hours of carrying watering cans.  Nevertheless, a reduction in the temperature, cloud cover and some free afternoons over the past week have finally encouraged me to try to regain a semblance of order outside and, ever the organiser, to consider  a game plan for next year. That's not easy when in recent years we have never known whether the earth is going to drown o...