The Yoghurt Maker

Whilst we invariably think of our retirements as unique, the extent to which the exploits of so many people overlap giving rise to a collective experience never fails to amaze me. Perhaps I'm easily surprised because, of course, so many life events are shared globally beginning with childhood encounters and progressing through adolescence into adulthood, middle age and now what is invariably described as the third age.

In retirement there seems to be an almost universal urge to simplify our lives, embrace creativity and rediscover our existence in harmony with nature. If that  boils down to a quest for the meaning of life or even to understand who we really are, then so be it. It may, of course, have made more sense to have lived life backwards with that knowledge intact, instead of embarking on a voyage of self-discovery in our 60's and 70's.

Nevertheless, we are where we are and as a consequence I know so many people who have embraced outdoor activities particularly walking, cycling and gardening; who seek to travel, especially to far flung destinations to discover a slower and less westernised existence; who have taken up yoga and meditation; who are trying their hand at painting, pottery, wood carving, metal working, sewing, knitting or who are even picking up a musical instrument again.

Moreover, and perhaps with a view to finding the elixir of life and longevity through good health, so many are conscientously pursuing exercise and even changing the food that they eat and in many instances now growing their own. 

Yes retiring is like being admitted to a club for like-minded people. We meet, share our successes and inspire others.

Returning to my proclamation of astonishment, however, I have recently discovered that a step I had innocently assumed was just a quirk on my part is being actively pursued by any number of friends and acquaintances. It seems that totally randomly and independently we have all taken to making our own yoghurt! Is it a rite of passage in retirement? Have we simply succumbed to the allure of marketing? Is it an attempt to reconnect with our pasts, when, so far as I can tell, most previously made their own thirty to forty years ago before work and/or children got in the way?

To be honest, it is something of a faff; it isn't necessarily cheaper than buying from a supermarket and there are so many wholesome brands available to purchase that I'm guessing it may not even be any better either. Regardless, I intend to  persist. There is after all something quite sensational about growing an edible culture. It's akin to gardening in the kitchen and who knows, if I can produce yoghurt today, perhaps, like one friend, I'll even move onto sour dough bread-making tomorrow.