La La Land (2016 Movie) Official Trailer – 'Dreamers'

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Caree Risover said…
I thought it was fun but perhaps a little lightweight despite the hype
15 February 2017 at 21:46
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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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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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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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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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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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Domesticity

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 Mister E’s incapacity has been accompanied by my own incarceration in an effort to ensure he obeys doctor’s orders and avoids unnecessary stress to his new joint. We’ve had groceries delivered rather than twice weekly shopping trips and I’ve found myself spending more and more time in the kitchen; that centre of the domestic heartland.  This enforced period of time at home has coincided with a glut of beetroot in the vegetable patch. Firing on all cylinders, I have put my creativity to work and have been cooking all things beetroot. We’ve eaten them boiled, roasted, curried and pickled. We’ve had everything from beetroot and feta on toast to beetroot risotto. Combining them with apples from our tree, I also made a relish. My culinary practice hasn’t stopped with savoury dishes; there have been beetroot and vanilla cupcakes one day, beetroot brownies the next.  I’ve almost convinced myself I could be a Niche Nigella, even if, I concede, it would require sustained effort! ...
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Fifty

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This week is a startling anniversary; fifty years since I arrived at university as a naïve young fresher. My closest friend from that era and I decided to mark the occasion.  We opened a bottle of wine. It was, of course, considerably better quality than the half pints of cider we were accustomed to buying in the Hall Bar five decades ago. Goodness me where has all that time gone? Back in 1976, we had been required to present ourselves on 4th October. As she had arrived suffering from the after effects of a virus, she had skipped dinner and gone straight to bed. On this occasion, with her staying over at mine, I offered to replicate that first university dinner: stew followed by gooseberry crumble, according to my trustworthy diary from the time, and I had specifically noted that neither dish was at all pleasant! In the end I couldn't bring myself to indulge our nostalgic musings to that extent and I hopefully served up something a little more satisfying to our tastebuds. Sadly, al...
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Books

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These days literature festivals abound with so many towns hosting, plus, of course, the bookshop tours and talks by authors when their new books are launched. It's many years since I went to such an event but last weekend I certainly made up for it. The Youngest was visiting, so we took the opportunity to spend Saturday afternoon in Durham City where its annual Book Festival was underway. A cold wind was blowing through the city centre, so after a bracing walk across the market square we were glad of our pre-booked tickets and shelter in the Gala Theatre. The next morning I dropped her at the station for a train back to London and work, whilst I proceeded to meet up with a friend to travel to Harrogate for another book event in the comfort of its Convention Centre, although, to be fair, without the chilly wind the town felt almost spring-like. All events had a similar format with a host posing questions from the comfort of an armchair and the author perched on the sofa's edge, ...
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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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Snake Oil and Falling

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  Time has passed in something of a blur of late, mainly because my mother had the inevitable fall and landed (not literally) in hospital. Fortunately no bones were broken but there was a lot of pain and bruising. Falling can become more commonplace as we age, hence a memo to myself to remember the flamingo impressions going forward and to practise standing on one leg when performing mundane tasks like brushing teeth and washing up. Some things do work and I've fully embraced the culture of striving for fitness in retirement; putting in physical effort to reap a reward certainly seems to make sense. If nothing else, the last ten years have seen me working hard to strengthen those bits and pieces of muscle and sinew holding my knee in place.  I really don't want to be the person who constantly tumbles as I get older. I do struggle, however, to engage with the concept of potions and pills to dispel some of the facets of ageing not to mention painkillers. Wear wrinkles with pride...
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You Know You're Old When...

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There have been various times in my life when I've suddenly realised from an awareness of others around me that I have, shall we say, grown up a little more.  The first occasion was probably the day I started school, being met, along with my contemporaries, by mothers pushing prams and pushchairs with siblings too small to be embarking on the big adventure. Later, as we progressed to secondary education, I recall marvelling at not only how cute the little children heading to primary school were, but also how much younger they seemed in comparison to my own peer group. Rushing through adulthood, the years move on apace and there definitely comes a day when you realise that yes, policemen do look very young. In my profession and approaching retirement, the same could be said for barristers.  Once retired, I have been less conscious of the differences, cocooned as I am in my own little tribe of seniors. That began to change a few years ago when some of those around me, started to...
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Happy Feet Again

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The first couple of weeks of January have been as busy as ever. There have been: a new laptop for the Parish Council to set up (why do these things take so long?); exercise classes to endure or enjoy depending on my daily fitness aptitude and the level of the group; more DIY at the rental property; a new Future Learn course; lunches out and time spent chatting (rather a lot) with family and friends. Yesterday I was back in volunteering mode, covering not one but two shifts at Save the Children's local high street shop. Well it was short of staff, I had a diary that could be easily altered, so why not? After all seven hours is nothing compared to the daily grind, week after week, month after month, decade after decade that goes with full-time work; at least that is what I thought.  So, I dressed appropriately in several layers and my comfortable ankle boots to ward off the chills from the open shop door and set off with enthusiasm, ready to meet and greet; sort and stac...
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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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Creepy Crawlies

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Having served our penance under a hosepipe ban last year, this summer Yorkshire was spared. That's not to say we were indulged with rain, only that we had so much over the previous winter that reservoirs and aquifers were replenished. Unfortunately it was still one of the region's driest ever summer seasons. and, like the rest of the country's grass, ours too ended up parched and yellow. Theoretically when it came to the lawn around our home, we could have used a hose to keep it green and lush or I guess, if we owned one, even a sprinkler. We do try, however, to keep our garden watered from our vast array of water butts and, with insufficient reserves to maintain the lawn as well, we chose instead to neglect it, safe in the knowledge that the first rain shower would herald its recovery. A month ago, the grass was returning to its naturally verdant state when suddenly, and despite the novelty of frequent rain showers, patches of dead turf once again began to appear. Investig...
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Dementia Torment

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Hats off to Andy Burnham for his speech on social care today. Since returning from an 18 day trip (more in another post) I have been very much banging my head against the wall with the authorities within a system that isn't so much broken or unfit for purpose as barely functioning or perhaps even extinct. When you have dementia and are blind, you can genuinely believe that not only are you completely rational and can cope, but that you can also see. It's a time bomb ticking towards an explosion and when it does there's an inevitable crisis. At least I've learned a new word: anosognosia. Moreover, I've had plenty of time to practise saying it whilst I've been holding on the phone line for hours in total trying to speak to someone who can assist. In the midst of a safeguarding dilemma, you do not expect everyone to keep referring you to the Duty Officer in the Department of Social Care, the emergency telephone number for which only ever results in an answerphone t...
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