A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  (Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay ) It looks like I wasn't so far off the mark yesterday when I forecast a grey day and the imposition of further draconian measures under the tier system. With Tier 3 areas to the North and South of us, however, we are probably lucky to be escaping with Tier 2 restrictions even if they are harsher than the Lower Tier provisions we were obeying 3 weeks ago. As a consequence of the current national lockdown, local case numbers, below the average for the country anyway, do appear to have dropped further but we have been stepped up a tier. Never mind, we are in good company, when it seems that only if you are living on a small island or at the very tip of the South West  have you been bestowed a pass to Tier 1. That said, as the biggest English county by land area, it does seem a little silly to be tying us down because of transmissions in a seaside resort 50 miles or more away. However, I probably don't want to be putting forward that argument

The primary route into the village was closed towards the end of last month to allow for much needed repairs to a bridge across the lane and above which runs the East Coast main railway line. It's proving to  be a real inconvenience when I need to travel to see my mother or visit the supermarket. However, and on the plus side, it now offers the opportunity for walking along, unimpeded by vehicles and with the added benefit of tarmac underfoot. It's not a surface I normally enjoy stomping on but when the footpaths and bridleways are damp and muddy underfoot, it comes into its own. Hence, today the sun was shining but, after rain overnight and this morning, conditions dictated against anywhere soft and squelchy for exercise. The ideal opportunity therefore, to march on a road I would normally only ever drive along. Mister E donned sunglasses for the occasion but, not being so "cool," I preferred the "uncovered and out to absorb Vitamin D and boost the immune system

  Yesterday evening the Prime Minister was urging us to have "a jolly careful Christmas." This evening a joint statement covering the four nations of the United Kingdom has been released indicating that up to 3 households will be allowed to meet to enjoy a festive celebration between 23rd and 27th December. Sounds like the virus could be in for a treat, with payback in January just before the potential roll-out of a vaccine. Its last hurrah if you like! There are serious caveats. The joint statement itself warns that "this cannot be a normal Christmas," and, "even where it is within the rules, meeting with friends and family over Christmas will be a personal judgement for individuals to take, mindful of the risk to themselves and others." Conscious of our normal pattern of family meet-ups at the end of the year, the proposed relaxation of restrictions offers all kinds of possible permutations. Obviously we need to consider them in detail once we have bett

  (Image by Thomas B. from Pixabay ) "Retirement- what if it's not right for you?" was the intriguing title of an article in one of those financial magazines that plop through our letterbox from time to time. This particular periodical from a local firm of financial advisers arrived a month ago, but I am only now taking advantage of the colder, darker hours of this month's lockdown to get on top of the piles of correspondence awaiting attention on my desk. The gist, of course, was to keep working if you want to and for which there could be a myriad of reasons in support. However, you do need to be aware of certain taxation pitfalls, especially if drawing down on pension funds whilst working part-time. I suppose it wasn't quite what I was seeking to read when, apart from the obvious "but I can't afford to retire" argument, I was anticipating a lot more around the theme of being afraid of stagnation, so that I might have the opportunity to analyse it

  I noticed that some of the newspapers have reported on figures recently published by Public Health England suggesting that, deprived of their friendship groups, the retired are turning to alcohol for comfort during the pandemic. Apparently we need something to spend all the money we are saving as a consequence of being deprived of holidays and eating out. Constrained, lonely and flush with cash we are hitting the bottle! Speak for yourself (hic..) but it must be a trend that has passed me by. I confess that back in March,  lockdown did seem a little like the beginning of a long holiday, meaning that Mister E and I perhaps cracked open a bottle of wine on a school night or two. However, we quickly realised that we were potentially in the clutches of the epidemic for the longer term and the novelty soon wore off. In any event a more detailed analysis of the figures suggests that the percentage of the over 55's who admit to drinking more is actually a minority, so perhaps I'm no

  Image by ivabalk from Pixabay A week ago today we went back into lockdown, the calendar is once again empty and, unlike the springtime, the weather is less than inviting for lounging around outdoors. To be honest it's been one dank, grey day after another. We've still been outside even if the time has been spent keeping warm through the art of digging, with tools downed by 3pm when poor light inevitably stops play.  It may only have been 8 days but already I'm conscious that I'm struggling to recall the day of the week on waking and may have to resort to marking time by counting the number of Great British Bake off episodes watched. It's not that I'm even a great fan but sometime you just need something to make you drool and much better to examine cake from the side of the screen where there can be no temptation to consume. Heaven forbid  any further expansion of the waistline as a consequence of a circulating virus and an order to stay at  home. Of course, I

  Surrealism or beyond reality is closely associated with the art movement to which Dali, Miro and Breton belonged. There's supposed to be a clear demarcation between the surrealist movement with its creative depictions of subconscious awareness and those strange or ethereal experiences we describe as surreal. I'm not at all convinced that I understand the difference, least of all in recent days when the objective phenomena of the real world seem to have been taken over by the bizarre. Take the garden, for instance. Here we are at the beginning of November when I desperately want to tuck my pots and greenhouse up for the winter but still the plants are blooming. Will the tomatoes actually ripen before the frost bites under the unheated glass? How long before the geraniums fade and I can empty the hanging baskets? Should I feel at fault for picking the last of the summer's roses to enjoy indoors? Can the vegetable plot  actually continue to feed us through the winter? What o