A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

Today I met a family member for a chat over a pot of tea during her office lunch break. I paid for the tea with vouchers I had received through the post, opening the envelope and placing the vouchers in my purse for use on such an occasion. That's not really difficult planning is it? How often during our working lives, however, do we even bin apparent junk envelopes without exploring their contents or, if we do open them, let any such vouchers lie around for weeks until they are lost or else out of date. Family member was impressed enough to comment on this fact. After she left I browsed around the clothing department of a local store in search of a couple of T-shirts, now that the sun is finally shining. There were several sale rails but nothing of any appeal upon them, so instead I picked up two from the newly arrived stock but got them for the equivalent of the sale price with, you've guessed, another voucher. Then I headed for the supermarket, shopping list in

Aware of my penchant for mixing exercise with food (the only justification I can find for eating more), I realise that I have overlooked telling you about my day out with an old friend last week. With all the snow and rain we've been inundated with recently, we agreed to meet at Fountains Abbey near to Ripon believing that it would get us outdoors but provide some alternatives in the event of extreme weather. In the end it turned out to be a dry if chilly day. However, any hope of following the footpath into Ripon itself disappeared in a quagmire beneath our feet. Instead we returned and then stuck to the purposefully constructed paths around the estate. Whilst not flat, the ascents are so insignificant that there is no risk of breathlessness intervening to impede non-stop chatter. It was a perfect choice and on this occasion not only was there a cafe to finish our walk in but also another for a pre-stroll coffee and cake. Yes, when I mused on walking

Mister E has been away for 3 days doing boy's stuff. Consequently I have been taking advantage. On Day One I was out of the house from 9 a.m. until 3.30 p.m. and on Day Two from 9.45 a.m. until 7 p.m. I have been playing music loudly, surfing television channels using "his" remote controller whilst sitting in "his" chair. I have stayed up until after midnight. Horror of horrors, I have even eaten salad for my evening meal. This morning in line with our usual routine, I got up to make tea to take back to bed. Force of habit or missing him? I poured out 2 cups!

Episodes of lower back pain apparently affect most people at some point from middle age. How to alleviate them has been a matter of historical dispute by experts and I noticed that both today and yesterday the Guardian published articles about a series of reports in The Lancet . The consensus seems to be that bed rest and medical intervention are unhelpful and that sufferers should keep exercising. It all reminded me of one of our conversations this week at the gym before consecutive Barre and Yoga sessions. Several classmates hobbled in, others rubbed painful joints and we were all full of the woes that aches and pains bring. The level of torment varied from individual to individual but we were as one in our belief that a little exertion and some stretching would cure the problem. Of course there's no such thing as  a miracle remedy and I'd be lying if I said that everyone skipped out of the door and home, twinge free. The great thing about being a believer t

There was a time, not so very long ago, when a woman's 60th birthday invariably coincided with not only retirement but also receipt of a state pension and bus pass. How quickly things have changed and, in my own case, it will now be another six years before those gifts are endowed. That is not to say that the Government overlooks you entirely at 60 and for many it is the day they can finally forget about the notional prescription charge levied by the NHS here in England. Alternatively, as in my case, that is of limited significance if you are already exempt as a result of a medical condition or means testing. Imagine therefore my astonishment to receive an official letter from the NHS posted on my actual birthday. How can anyone accuse it of inefficiency when its computer system is so finely tuned?  WARNING: Anyone who has not yet attained the age of 60 years and doesn't want their own NHS birthday surprise spoiling should stop reading now. So what exactly

We are now, it seems, all familiar with the Danish concept of Hygge; a feeling of charm and cosiness that acknowledges special moments of intimacy. Yugga , according to an article I was reading in ' This is Yorkshire' (one of those items of reading material left out in hotel bedrooms), is essentially the same thing but in Yorkshire.  Consequently we have just returned from three days spent revelling in the concept: a mini break; two charming country house hotels; roaring fires; my mobile off; a celebratory lunch with family; strolling along the cliffs at Flamborough Head and then the beach at Filey; pre-dinner drinks served to our sofa; exploring Beverley with its cobbled streets and huge Minster; locally sourced ingredients for dinner; cooked breakfasts; a spa with saunas, steam rooms and an outdoor pool; a memorable art exhibition; cosy coffee shops; small picturesque Wolds' villages and enormous vistas on the North Yorkshire Moors; Helmsley's Friday Mar

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

The Battle of the Giants or Armageddon; Storm Emma meets the Beast from the East; you'd be forgiven for thinking the media has been reporting on a wrestling match rather than the weather. Here in the rural hinterlands of North Yorkshire we've been bunkering down, enthralled by stories of woe and fortitude from life in the Northern hills where I grew up or else from daily commuters. Clearly too many people now live further from their place of work than ever before and with the thousands of lorries that blight our roads, working journeys and snow blizzards were never going to be a joyful mix for drivers. On Planet Retirement, however, our only test this week has been seeing if Mister E can actually keep the bird feeders topped up and a path clear to the gate on the off chance that the postman would make his regular visit. Besieged by feathered friends, we've been nurturing not only our regular callers but also their extended families and a few historic