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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  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 subjected our cars to annual serv...
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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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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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Seven Years and Itching

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  It is seven years today since I closed the door on my legal career and I still have no itch or desire to return to the world of court rooms and orders. If I have a yearning at all, it is for a resurrection of the retirement life I had become accustomed to before this darned pandemic descended upon us. It is a craving that is now, however, tempered by the sense that the simple life I have long hankered for is within my fingers' grasp, if only... I noticed a meme the other day that just about summed up my situation. In essence it was indicating that lockdown has demonstrated that we need more than time trapped at home to organise and sort; the problem was never a lack of hours to devote to the task as we had always assumed, but rather something within that needs to be tamed and brought to heel.  Who would have imagined that seven years down the track with supposedly oodles of time, I'd still be contemplating how to declutter myself of  physical stuff?  Strangely the ...
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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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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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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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Living the Dream

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  It is 8 years ago today that I left my office desk and took my first steps into retirement.  Fittingly, this afternoon I was reminded of some of the associated emotions whilst chatting to our next door neighbour who retired too a few weeks ago. Whilst he's clearly throwing himself into all those tasks that you let slip whilst you are busy working down to your final day, he also divulged that he is experiencing those horrendous nightmares where you wake up, palms sweating, realising that you were imagining yourself back in the workplace. At least I was able to reassure him that, 8 years on, not only would I be incapable of doing the job that kept me occupied and fulfilled for so long, but also I honestly would be unable to recall what used to be required of me, at least not sufficient to dream about it. Who would have thought it would be possible to get to that stage, but when life is filled in other ways, memories of the task of earning a living by pursuing a career do actu...
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Range Anxiety

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  Acquiring an electric vehicle has introduced me to various new concepts when it comes to driving.  'Range anxiety,' for instance, seems to be a phrase that crops up regularly. Progressing so suddenly from a hot, dry spring and summer into current conditions has fostered an epidemic of the condition and I've even heard tell of one poor lady who couldn't bear the stress and ended up part-exchanging her electric car after only a few months to return to a conventional petrol engine. Unfortunately, deploying heating, lighting and windscreen wipers throughout every journey has an inevitable impact on battery power and the decrease in miles per kwh as a consequence can be worrying. Somebody even described to me how they are donning extra layers and driving without heating in an effort to tweak as many miles as possible out of their charge. I'm lucky in that most of my driving is local and to be honest I'm not sure that I would have swapped to an electric car if it wa...
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A Future Strategy

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I have just returned from another enjoyable but exhausting trip to London to see our granddaughters. On this occasion, rather than driving, Mister E and I took the train and the journey proved to be the only part of our four nights away when I got the opportunity to sit down with a book. I had deliberately chosen something light and recommended to me on the basis that it was funny and astute, a little in the style of Jane Austen's humour but set in the late 1960's. I'm not at all sure that it completely lived up to that description but it had a certain wit and whimsicality that captivated me regardless. The book was 'Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont' by Elizabeth Taylor and it depicts the interaction between various long stay, elderly guests at a hotel on Cromwell Road in London. I was intrigued to turn the pages in circumstances where friends have often suggested that in our dotage it would be preferable to check into a good hotel rather than a care home. Mrs Palfrey w...
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The Woman in Black

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Many years ago, in that world of work I invariably wore black . Dull, sombre coloured suits with white blouses and heeled shoes were viewed as appropriate attire for both office and court room. I think there was even a myth that black flattered and slimmed. Hence I had a collection of LBD's for evening events and even black swimwear for holidays. In retirement I realised that they served little purpose. Getting rid took much longer, but I think I finally got there in 2021. Today, however, looking through my wardrobe where various hues of blue dominate, the thought went through my mind that whilst there is no black there is no purple either. I was thinking of course of that wonderful poem by Jenny Joseph, " Warning- When I am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple ."   Scanning the poem in my head, I realised that I don't have a red hat (unless the pink one I now wear in the garden in winter, after it was partially eaten by a moth, counts). I haven't taken to spending m...
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Just Not Yet

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  Yes the Christmas chatter has begun: "Do you have your tree up?"  "Are you sending Christmas cards this year?" "Have you bought and wrapped your presents?" On my part the answer to all of those has been a definitive No! Those who can smugly answer Yes, appear concerned that December 25th is but a mere seventeen days and so many hours away. For me that really is an age, just imagine all the exciting things I have planned for the interim (like planting bulbs , for instance). Despite ticking off a couple of Christmas lunches already, I do subscribe to the idea that the Christmas season can be extended far too long if you let it and what's wrong with a bit of spontaneity when it really does arrive? Now that attitude is totally contrary to how I thought my approach to the festive season in retirement might be. There again, why change the habits of a lifetime?  This will be our first Christmas at home since 2022, so of course I am looking forward to it and...
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Once Again

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We're heading towards the end of another year but why is it that once again I never managed to get all my borders dug over and bulbs planted before the gardening season came to an abrupt end? Forever the optimist, I'm still checking the forecast, hoping for a rise in temperature and one or two calm days in anticipation of finishing the job.  As a consequence of the digging that went on inside and outside the house starting in late 2023, autumn clear-ups have of necessity been neglected for the past two years. The baked clay that resulted from our recent summer of drought and high temperatures resisted all attempts to turn it with a spade, whilst, in the meantime, field mice from the adjoining farmer's land have filled themselves at the expense of my tulip and crocus bulbs.   Confronted by a depleted floral display when we returned home earlier this year and facing another in the Spring of 2026, I had therefore set myself the task of planting a thousand bulbs. The pro...
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Nature and Art

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Ever since new research at Kings College , London suggested that visiting art galleries is good for our health, I seem to keep stumbling across commentary on the findings from that study. It concluded that viewing original art could lower markers within the body for a wide range of inflammatory conditions including heart disease, diabetes, stress and depression.  As somebody who is predisposed to a number of inflammatory conditions, my interest was piqued. Already aware of the benefits of  immersing oneself in nature and of exercise, how wonderful if visiting exhibitions can be added to the list of preventative healthcare measures for adoption in retirement. Some of my best days out in the last decade have certainly involved admiring the creativity of others which I always find generates an inner emotional response. Potentially it now seems feasible that instead of planning a visit to a gallery as a cultural indulgence, we should look upon it as a prescription for the wel...
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A Stage

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  Following on from my post about Nature and Art , yesterday I found the ideal venue. It was at Nunnington Hall, a National Trust Property situated on the edge of the Howardian Hills. Inside there was a photography exhibition by Joe Cornish and Simon Baxter with the title "All the Wood's a Stage." Yes it was a play on that much famed quotation from Shakespeare, but the point they were making was that trees are the performers in nature and that we should reconnect with woodland using our powers of observation and other senses. I wasn't sure what to expect but went with an open mind. The photographs were stunning, unlike my own example above. They showed trees through the changing seasons; symbols of life, beauty, death and renewal; providers of quietude; guardians of the environment. They appeared as immense, silent wardens of the natural world and a fundamental part of the planet's vital ecosystem. I felt inspired; I wanted to reach for a camera myself or at least...
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A New Chapter

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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...
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Thwarted

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I confess, I am a little behind with my Christmas preparations. Perhaps I was overly relaxed when I thought two weeks was too early to start getting everything ready or maybe a tad optimistic as to how long the necessary steps would actually take.  Let's say the wheels came off over the weekend when I realised the enormity of clearing a spare bedroom ready for Grandotty to sleep in. Sadly, it was full of those boxes we've just never found the time or perhaps more correctly enthusiasm to empty since returning home at the end of March. Thankfully, and bar only two that I have found space elsewhere to store, everything is now sorted, the bed is made and the floor is clear. So a little late in erecting the Christmas tree, it became a task scheduled for this afternoon, after I had picked up the Youngest from the station and together we had undertaken a major food shop. Sadly, it didn't happen. A delay on the railway meant that the Youngest arrived an hour late. Even then we plan...
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Make Believe

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  The highlight of my social calendar in the last few days was an Alpine Evening organised outside the gym where four large tepees were installed on the lawn, complete with a gondola carriage for photographs. Mulled wine was available on tap, whilst raclette and bratwurst were served to eat. By chance, the temperature had plummeted to below freezing and we were even treated to a flurry of snow from the sky above.  Like most events, it was of course the company of others present who really made it a success, although recognising some people in their winter coats and hats rather than lycra was a challenge in itself! Many of us suffered a healthy dose of nostalgia reminiscing about skiing trips past but not present. Concerned about weak knee and hip joints or maybe brittle bones, it really was the closest most are ever going to get to après ski going forward in retirement. Of course, I realised as long ago as 2013 that skiing wouldn't dominate our retirement planning and althoug...
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