An Element of Surprise
One of the great joys of retirement for me has been to avoid, so far as possible, routine, revelling in flexibility and the potential for impetuosity and the opportunities that brings. Sadly, coronavirus and especially the restraints of lockdown have very much brought that previous way of living to a close, at least temporarily.
Somehow, routines have now crept into daily life and, a little like my days in the office, it's once again coffee at 11am and tea at 4pm. Mornings begin with a rigorous trawl of the newspapers online and then a Pilates session to a YouTube video before pottering in the garden and, every evening, time is devoted to watering plants and shutting up the greenhouse for the night. Obviously there have been unexpected diversions with telephone conversations, walks through and around the village and the excitement of watching seedlings grow, flower and, as now, begin to bear fruit or rather vegetables.
However, and after more than 3 months, let's be honest it's beginning to get just a little bit samey. It's not that I'm bored, far from it, but I am having to dig deep into my reserves to find the spontaneous fun and innovative experiences that I have come to associate with retirement.
A saviour in this respect has been home deliveries. Early on in lockdown we signed up with local organic suppliers for both dairy and fresh produce. Whilst the milk itself does not vary, the time of delivery (anywhere between 3.30 and 6.00 a.m) does. Imagine the anticpation; will we hear him; if it's a warm night will one of us go down to move the delivery to the fridge; in so doing, will they wake the other? I'm not kidding, every night is Christmas Eve with stockings stuffed by Santa Claus when you have a milkman.
None of that, however, comes anywhere close to the excitement released by delivery of our mixed fruit and vegetable sacks. We literally pounce on them seeking to discover the bounties that await and indeed whether or not we can even identify everything. Where but in lockdown would I have ever baked Sorrel Tart or sauteed radishes? Is that really a red kuri squash? Globe artichoke for lunch, perhaps. Will the carrots have their fern leaves on them this week or not? Just how many onions can we eat and where's that cabbage we'd begun to rely on?
It seems that not only has preparing food become one of the major highlights of our life in the pandemic but its delivery too has managed to pep up what might otherwise be a monotonous lull. Cardoon instead of celery, chard instead of spinach, vague evidence of soil or pests: the element of surprise in retirement is still there after all. We're just delving a little differently to find it.
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