Esteemed Company

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Well how's that for esteemed company? Two famous sportsmen announced their own retirements today, meaning that in years to come I shall be able to say that I retired the same summer as Jonny Wilkinson and Ryan Giggs.



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The 3 x 60 Challenge

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So much is written about the post-work bucket list that as you approach retirement, you inevitably feel that you should have one. A tick list of 100 things to see and do before you die. You don't even have to think up your own any more, the Internet is full of them. Glance through them if you will and you quickly get the impression that retirement must be full of adrenalin rushed grandparents throwing themselves out of aeroplanes or climbing Kilimanjaro. Indeed the eldest recently sent a book to Mister E and me entitled "101 Coolest Things to Do in Great Britain." Now it is a good read and has some, shall we say, "interesting ideas" but for those that hold the most appeal I can honestly say that I've already been there, done them, got the photographs. There are others that wild horses wouldn't drag me to. It may be cool, but somehow Mister E and I attending Bestival is beyond even the most vivid of imaginations. The problem with trying to...
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All Aboard for Pampering

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Mister E and I may be retired but we still enjoy being pampered now and again; who says you have to be working hard to deserve a treat? Yesterday offered one of those occasions when we were spoiled with a train trip on board the Northern Belle, previously operated and restored by the Venice Simplon Orient Express. It was a day for lounging back in a plush seat, eating and drinking everything put in front of us (and there was quite a quantity) whilst watching the scenery glide serenely past. The luxury of our surroundings and the attentive service from uniformed staff all added to the sense of occasion and enjoyment. We were entertained by wandering musicians and a magician on our figure of eight route around County Durham and North Yorkshire, ending up eventually back where we started at Darlington Station. Just like my retirement so far really; there is no obvious destination but the journey getting there is immensely pleasurable.
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A Full Service

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  Image by Couleur on Pixabay It's not just the Spring Cleaning that I embrace in February and March because, much as I dislike routine, the end of winter and beginning of spring have become a time to put other aspects of our house in order. So, it's a period for sorting ourselves administratively with meetings with our financial adviser and personal banker; reviewing and renewing insurance policies, changing insurer as necessary; checking tariffs and switching energy suppliers. In fact this year we have surpassed ourselves by finally updating our wills too!  Energised by the thought of springtime and rebirth, it's also become a time for medical checks, new spectacles, and a dental check-up. When making my appointment with the optician, I was given the option of a hearing test; I declined but no doubt, in years to come, that too will find its way into my retirement body scan. It's not simply a phase for a human body overhaul either, as we've subje...
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Late, Even in Retirement

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  (Image by Merry Christmas  from Pixabay) Whilst retirement continues to throw up its new experiences, I'm conscious that some of them only arise because I'm a little late for the party. We have the misfortune to suffer from the problems that rural connectivity throws up. In particular, we  frequently struggle with mobile reception at one side of the house, whilst at the other it has proved impossible to obtain a wifi signal meaning that the benefits of a smart televison are non-existent.  However, during last year's initial lockdown, for the first time I appreciated the potential of casting especially from the iPad to the living room. It's been an indispensable way to participate in online exercise classes.  On Sunday, I was idly exploring other options to cast when I discovered that every series of Downton Abbey is available on Amazon Prime. I'm one of those few people who until now has never watched a single episode. I was, of course, working when it aired ...
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Exhaustion

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  Who would have thought it?  Yesterday, according to my Fitbit app, I walked more than 5 miles without leaving the house; most of it was between wardrobes and the bed where robe contents were displaced and sorted. Now in the course of  the motivational training sessions, I was warned that one wardrobe and a time limit of 4 hours were desirable. However, when Mister E expressed interest in getting his hanging rails decluttered too, it seemed opportune to keep going. After all when the man who cannot even bear to throw away a cardboard box, admits his closets need a good tidy up and needs help to do this, who could possibly refuse? To be fair, he took to the process with a great deal more realism and less sentimentality than I did. In the end the hangers on his rails move freely whereas mine are still a trifle squeezed. Looking at the number of empty coat hangers we produced, I'm ashamed to say we must have jettisoned at least a hundred items between us, most of which wer...
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The Danger Zone

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I have generally considered myself  to be healthy and my retirement lifestyle equally so. I exercise daily; eat a good diet; don't add salt to my food; don't drink much; have never smoked; have no obvious stress triggers; have even lost half a stone in weight since finishing work although, like many people, several more pounds won't be missed. Grief, I sound so boring! Anyway, I was a little concerned by my hospital visit at the end of July when the nurse checked my blood pressure. I could see the reading on the screen and, as it seemed high to me, I did ask her if it was okay.  "Absolutely fine," she said but that didn't exactly allay my fears. After all I had been sitting in a waiting room that could easily have passed for Obesity International and what if mine had simply been the lowest she had seen all morning? The result has been nagging on my mind, so on Monday I called into our surgery and had the Practice Nurse take another readin...
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One a Day

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  I'm no longer sure if it's a feature of lockdown or of retirement, but, whereas I spent a working life juggling office and family commitments, suddenly one appointment a day seems to fill the diary. Actually having anything in the diary during lockdown is a highlight in itself, of course, but when you were always accustomed to fitting a visit to the dentist in and around office hours it is vaguely disheartening to realise that it might be all you achieve in daylight hours at the moment. To be honest I've been on a bit of a roll following the trip out to Leyburn on Saturday for that first dose of vaccine. We were strangely fatigued on Sunday, a not uncommon side-effect apparently, but Monday morning saw me out on the road bright and early. I'd booked the car in for its annual service and got it there just as the garage was opening its doors for business. I decided to wear an FP2 mask for the occasion but it did make communicating with the receptionist a trifle difficul...
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A Reprieve

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  Tonight I am writing this post rather than continuing my game of catch up with Downton Abbey. After a week of  constant viewing, I am even beginning to sound like Lady Mary; should I deign to clamber on top of a horse and ride it side-saddle, you will know that my conversion is complete. Yesterday, I remained on target to reach the finale today when I noticed that the warning to the effect that all episodes would be removed on 31st January appeared to have disappeared. I wondered if an extension had been granted or if instead I was already viewing on borrowed time. I checked again this morning, and, can you believe it, after all those mammoth sessions in front of the television there is indeed now a new expiry date in two weeks' time! I am unable to explain my relief.  Retirement and deadlines simply don't go together. After a career of working to time limits,  I honestly have no idea why I succumbed to the challenge. All I can think is that, still slightly intoxi...
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Business Networking in Retirement

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Love it or hate it, business owners and key professionals have become accustomed to walking into rooms full of people and making small talk with strangers. It's the real life equivalent of Twitter or LinkedIn. Sometimes to ease the conversation and connections, games are played.  I recall one event where we had to stand up in turn and tell the room what we were looking for in the lowest number of words possible. That was an easy one for a divorce lawyer: "adultery"; it reduced the room to hysterics but I did get work referred as a result! Relieved of the obligation to network in retirement, I have been toying with deleting my LinkedIn profile. It does seem a brutal step to take, severing those historic connections and therefore the potential for reconnecting. Conversely, the deeper I get into retirement living, the deeper the divergence from the business world and the less important maintaining an online profile seems to be. Recently, however, an old c...
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Happy New Me

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  There's something very special about New Year. There I am at 11.59 pm on 31st December waiting for the clock to strike; I whisper a few resolutions; the New Year rushes in and I am a transformed being. Except it doesn't work like that. Least of all last night, when I couldn't keep my eyes open late enough to witness the ushering in of 2022. It continues to be a hard life in retirement (she says smiling).  I was up this morning, however, with a good thirty minutes to spare before welcoming the first dawn of the new me, assuming of course that I had remembered to make some resolutions.  I hadn't.  It wasn't so much that I'd forgotten to make any as, to be honest, I genuinely couldn't think of any. Of course, nobody's perfect but in retirement where everyone strives to live in the present, resolving to socialise frequently, regularly ring Great Aunt Betsy (another figment of my imagination), shed pounds or come up with anything to alter your life for the ...
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Push Me, Pull Me

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    On 18th June I reached my 11th anniversary of retirement. In previous years I've always tried to post a reflective blog entry, checking in on where exactly I am on this long journey of exploration. This year, it simply was not possible. Retirement has always presented itself to me in staged phases. They have not always been  immediately  recognisable  but with the benefit of hindsight I know that I have moved from the honeymoon period of  frenetic, hamster-wheeling energy to something slower and more appreciative. I've tried to embrace new experiences and freedom, avoid stress and make the most of every option, creating opportunities for travel, simplification, well-being, creativity  and joy. There have been downtimes but growing resilience has always pulled me through and I've learnt to embrace the quiet interludes as well as the busy ones. A year ago, I was sharing little pearls of wisdom as I'd reached what seemed to be a contented phase of re...
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Menopause After the Workplace

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Perhaps I'm being a little sensitive but it seems there's so much magazine and newspaper print lately that's been devoted to menopause in the workplace.  The final bastion in the battle for gender equality or so some articles would have us believe. With women apparently averaging 51 years when they complete their menopause transition, it is perhaps surprising that there isn't more coverage of the impact on retirement. Early menopause gets an avid press, late menopause less so. In my own case, it must be 20 years since I was told that I was perimenopausal. When, suffering dreadfully with menorrhagia (an abundance) and dysmenorrhea (it hurt), I finally sought medical assistance and various prescriptions followed. "Progesterone is good for this," followed several months later by "But maybe not in this form," and then "Maybe not for you, at all." Prodded, poked and scanned. "You have fibroids, let's monitor them." "They are n...
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In the Heat

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  There’s a meme circulating on the internet at the moment to the effect that for the first time ever a British woman finally went out, leaving her cardigan at home. Today, amidst all this glorious sunshine and stifling heat, I did likewise! There are some things that never change though: I still had an umbrella in my bag! Image by  emmabeyjd  from  Pixabay
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Risk Averse

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Mister E and I have concluded that it is time to get some serious travelling underway again. When the pandemic struck we had just embarked on the start of our ambitious plan to visit every EU member country before the transition period for Brexit ended; the Adieu Tour, as we named it, however, came to an abrupt end with only Cyprus under our belts. Perhaps it's time to resurrect the idea with a Missing EU series of trips. Of course before we can organise anything there's the tricky issue of travel insurance. We let our annual policy lapse as a consequence of the restrictions on travel over the last couple of years and investigating a replacement has proved something of a shock. It seems all those hospital visits earlier this year have done me no favours. I may have been given a clear bill of health so far as the heart is concerned but that emergency admission coupled with the discovery of a gallstone after one single uncomfortable episode, have upped the premium to eye-waterin...
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Independence and Inaction

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  Billed as England's own Independence Day, July 4th was supposed to be a big occasion. As I understand it a few pubs got served with closure notices for failing to adhere to the requirements and a few more have closed subsequently because (surprise, surprise) Track and Trace has identified that people, who have since tested positive, were drinking in them. In reality it seems that regaining our liberty has all been a bit of a damp squid with most people locally still preferring to stay at home, or venture out only with a mask on which, of course, makes socialising and patronising restaurants and public houses a little difficult. The Government's coronavirus dashboard suggests that transmission in our district, which was always relatively low, has been pretty much non-existent for a few weeks now and it is, of course, easy to get suckered in to the idea that life is resuming as normal. Easy too to forget your guard and the benefit of that all important 2 metr...
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Happy New Me

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  There's something very special about New Year. There I am at 11.59 pm on 31st December waiting for the clock to strike; I whisper a few resolutions; the New Year rushes in and I am a transformed being. Except it doesn't work like that. Least of all last night, when I couldn't keep my eyes open late enough to witness the ushering in of 2022. It continues to be a hard life in retirement (she says smiling).  I was up this morning, however, with a good thirty minutes to spare before welcoming the first dawn of the new me, assuming of course that I had remembered to make some resolutions.  I hadn't.  It wasn't so much that I'd forgotten to make any as, to be honest, I genuinely couldn't think of any. Of course, nobody's perfect but in retirement where everyone strives to live in the present, resolving to socialise frequently, regularly ring Great Aunt Betsy (another figment of my imagination), shed pounds or come up with anything to alter your life for the ...
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Joy

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  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...
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At the Weekend

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  (Image by messersrach from Pixabay) The results of a YouGov survey published last month demonstrated an intriguing difference between the generations when describing a forthcoming weekend. It seems that under 40's refer to it as "this weekend" and over 50's as "next weekend" with those between 40 and 50 being equally divided as to how best to define it. Whoever is it that dreams up these surveys? But, having done so, what on earth can be going on here, apart from the confusion? Despite falling into the older age bracket, it seems that I am in a minority of 50 pluses who would allude to "this weekend" when their contemporaries say "next weekend" instead. I'd like to think it's because I remain young at heart but it's probably that I'm so accustomed to making arrangements with my offspring that I adopt their language.  Is it actually the case that younger people, busy at work or with young families, see the weekend as wi...
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Boots and Balance

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Back in November I discovered that my long-standing and comfortable hiking boots had sadly come to the end of their days, devoid of support and grip with soles hanging half off too. Today was the day I started to break in their replacements. I swear my ankles belong to that princess who could feel a pea under the mattress, or perhaps I just don’t like change.  Needless to say we got off to a bad start together, when I lost my balance slipping on a wet rock and landed on my back only minutes after setting off. Talk about a confidence wrecker for somebody who’s still in the process of rehabilitation from a tear to the meniscus . At least the ground was soft, so no harm done apart from the astonishment at how easy it can be to fall over.  Thankfully, I don’t give in easily and numerous adjustments to the laces saw me complete a 3 mile circuit with only a slight rubbing at the front of my right ankle. The weather was reasonably mild, the sky was blue, my knee behaved itself and th...
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The 3 x 60 Challenge

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So much is written about the post-work bucket list that as you approach retirement, you inevitably feel that you should have one. A tick list of 100 things to see and do before you die. You don't even have to think up your own any more, the Internet is full of them. Glance through them if you will and you quickly get the impression that retirement must be full of adrenalin rushed grandparents throwing themselves out of aeroplanes or climbing Kilimanjaro. Indeed the eldest recently sent a book to Mister E and me entitled "101 Coolest Things to Do in Great Britain." Now it is a good read and has some, shall we say, "interesting ideas" but for those that hold the most appeal I can honestly say that I've already been there, done them, got the photographs. There are others that wild horses wouldn't drag me to. It may be cool, but somehow Mister E and I attending Bestival is beyond even the most vivid of imaginations. The problem with trying to...
Read more