A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

Hey ho, we're off; a little late but the gardening season has finally commenced. This year I have started it whilst, at the same time, studying a Future Learn course entitled 'Citizen Science: Living Soils, Growing Food' delivered by the University of Dundee in conjunction with the GROW Observatory which is a European wide project for growers and scientists passionate about the land. It's all about regenerating rather than sustaining the food production ecosystem, recognising the need for permaculture i.e. living within nature's limits through earth care, people care and fair shares (the latter signifying that we should use only what we need and share the rest). In the case of this project, the course is examining land based perma-design by combining experience, soil observation, water, climate, vegetation and animal life to identify strategies and resources to develop a site (in my case, my vegetable patch). Currently food production methods

One of the exciting opportunities in retirement is the potential to become embroiled in other people's projects especially, in my case, Mister E's.  As I made reference recently, he has been flushing out our central heating system and so, unsurprisingly I have been enlisted as a plumber's mate. Initially this involved no more than online research with a view to making what were dismissed as unhelpful suggestions. This was followed fairly quickly by providing copious mugs of tea together with motivational phrases like, "I think we should call a real plumber out." Ultimately, however, I gained promotion to manual assistant and was deployed to watch for drips and then, after Mister E was satisfied he'd drained it, to help lever a radiator away from its connection pipes. Surely by now I should know better, so I won't even ask you to guess which one of us it was who got sprayed in black sludge along with the wall and carpet and despite the

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.

The temperature, which until this week seemed to have been in denial about the arrival of Spring, may have delayed my early flower display but it doesn't seem to have stopped the annual bird mating season. Male songbirds have been launching into full throttle from daybreak. I love the idea of living in harmony with nature and there's nothing more delightful than the melodic  dawn chorus of a choir of blackbirds and songthrushes. Unfortunately for us, this year, one out of tune thrush has been welcoming the dawn every morning from a strategic position on the roof above our bedroom. "Cherie, Cherie, Cherie," he has been chanting, "Pull it up, pull it up, pull it up." I could almost feel sorry for Cherie, except she isn't the only one fatigued by his instruction which somedays has continued unabated, or so it has seemed, until dusk. So could anything be worse than losing sleep daily as a result of a discordant feathered creature and an

Just like last year , Spring sunshine makes a sudden and unexpected appearance and I get an urge to declutter. I sometimes think that it's a shame I don't live nearer the Equator because with more sunshine, I really could get this job tackled. Or perhaps I wouldn't because when it comes to reducing stuff, I truly suffer from complete indecisiveness. Take today when I discovered that I own three pairs of brown shoes, none of which I have actually worn since I retired. Nevertheless I convinced myself that I should retain at least one pair, but which was it to be? I tried on them all. There was a comfortable but slightly worn couple, a very elegant but tighter twosome, and a polished and, if I recall correctly, expensive pair. Decisions, decisions, decisions.  Talk about procrastination. In the end I persuaded myself I would be best served by retaining all three, or would I? Then Mister E appeared and I explained my dilemma. "That's easy,"

Now I know there are multitudes of people who love them but I am really not a jigsaw type of person. The idea of spending hours piecing together something that is only intended to be pulled apart again has always seemed to me a monumental waste of effort; not the kind of creativity I am looking for in retirement at all. However, faced with a day of rain falling in torrents during the youngest's recent visit, we decided to tackle a rather nasty 1,000 piece puzzle challenging ourselves to complete it in one go. Foolhardy as well as stubborn, it took us 6.5 hours. On that basis it's just as well that time is plentiful in retirement, although I understand champion puzzlers (apparently such people do exist) would complete it in less than half that time. So did we get anything out of our effort? There was certainly no sense of achievement, just relief, finishing it only through sheer determination. Unlike walking to the top of a hill and admiring the view, a complet

I suspect that I have a visually inclined memory, a theory upheld by my vivid recollection of some of the art we have enjoyed at all those exhibitions since retiring. A hypothesis perhaps also confirmed by a frequent inability to recall the names of even the main protagonists in the books that I have read. Should I switch to reading comics and picture books or on the basis that I can also fail to put a name to a face in real life, is it erroneous conjecture? Could it actually be that I'm just bad at names? Is it another age thing? As you know I am undertaking 3 x 60 challenges for my big birthday year. A quarter of the year into it, I am pleased to record that progress is good; I'm a little behind target with the number of swims and also unfamiliar places visited, but anticipate making up the loss in the summer months. The reading challenge however has been managed to perfection, meaning that by 31st March I had indeed read 15 books.  Could I tell you the name

I'm conscious that when we retired in the summer of 2014 it seemed that we were never still , dashing from place to place, event to event for many months. Winter, coupled with a touch of retirement-complacency, however, seems to have a dampening effect on activity levels and it can be all too easy to slip into a hibernation malaise or even, in light of recent weather conditions, a rain associated disorder. The return of the youngest for a week was therefore a welcome wake-up call making up for the lack of Spring, that seasonal harbinger of action. So as well as our Easter Sunday venture , a trip to the cinema ("The Greatest Showman") and a day splashing in the pool and hot-tubs (inside and out) at the spa attached to the gym I frequent, we decided that learning how to make cheese would be a useful diversion. In my quest for a simpler life, I am conscious that were the backbones of society ever to crumble then my chances of survival as the last person o

When I was a child, Easter Sunday would invariably mean being decked out in new sandals and a summer dress. The youngest returned home for Easter this year but, apart from the fact that she'd never let me choose shoes or clothing for her, the temperature was such that there was no way I would even have dared suggest we wear such items.  Instead layered up in a multitude of fleeces we visited Bylands Abbey (one of the many monasteries scattered around the Yorkshire countryside that have been in ruins since Henry VIII embarked on his policy of dissolution and plunder).    From there and despite the low temperature we made our way to the White Horse , a renowned landmark carved out on the hillside to the east of Thirsk in the 19th century by, according to some accounts, a local schoolmaster and his pupils. Sadly it was looking rather grey and supports erected to prevent slippage of the stones were doubling as a collection point for wind borne litter. It's du