A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

Ageing and memory loss purportedly go hand in hand; Covid-19 and brain fog dominate the headlines; there's also menopause with the impact on cognitive functions of changing oestrogen levels. Is it little wonder that I am a tad paranoid at present? Then at the weekend the Observer published a story on the hidden long terms risks of surgery  where studies have shown that the brain takes a pounding in the arms of anaesthesia. Call me neurotic if you wish but I am now constantly on the look out for personal symptoms signalling a worrying decline. I'm not sure that, whilst lunching with my brilliant gym buddies today, muddling up the name of a potential venue for a future meet up is a concerning sign or not. Still I am conscious that where once I might have relied on pure mental ability to house a personal calendar and schedule deadlines, I now have a tendency to make a digital list synchronising across all devices. Mister E prefers paper and pen, but as a consequence

  I wholeheartedly subscribe to the notion that Nature always uplifts the spirit. Don't, therefore, dismiss me for the fact that I enjoy spending many hours of my retirement in the garden and no, I don't mean on a sun-lounger. The long Easter weekend has seen me pottering in the flower borders, sowing vegetable seeds in the greenhouse and taking cuttings from shrubs for propagation. I understand that this is not necessarily how many might wish to pass their time but perhaps they may feel more empathy with my means of deriving enjoyment if I divulge that the weekend culminated with an evening in the village pub. The third Monday of the month and it was of course Gardening Club! Well sometimes you do have to take your hobbies to that next level and what better way than discussing the finer points of soil, slugs and spuds whilst sipping a drink. It truly made my heart sing which, believe me, is better than it beating too fast.    

 One visitor down, I thought, as I waved the youngest off on Thursday afternoon following a far too brief stay. I quickly comforted myself with the thought that there were two more to welcome, with Dilly and the eldest scheduled to arrive yesterday. Having guests to stay and mixing over the long Easter Bank Holiday weekend is of course almost a novelty after being strictly prohibited for the last two years. Sadly, Covid-19 intervened again when Dilly tested positive on Thursday night after feeling under the weather for a couple of days. In a spirit of preparation we had, of course, already filled the fridge in readiness. Whilst some items could be frozen the prospect of more generous portions than usual and an empty diary saw me heading quickly to the gym where I even booked an extra class. I'm sure that in retirement I eat nothing like the quantity I used to, but burning extra calories just in case suddenly seemed a perfect way to spend Good Friday!  The weather has taken a turn f

  It's never good to be taken for a fool but that's what happened to me this morning. Like a significant percentage of the global population I have become a Wordle addict and exchange results and methodology with the youngest daily. To be fair, we only started to do this in the early days of my recuperation but it has nevertheless now become a breakfast time habit.  This morning, in light of the lack of letters revealed by my starting word and follow up, I was seriously proud of myself for cracking the puzzle in three rows. At best I thought the youngest might have equalled the score but no, she proclaimed herself a victor with her opening guess. Of course, I was amazed; not so much at any skill or ingenuity (that only arises when one of us solves it in two) but at the sheer fluke that must have occurred in predicting exactly the same word as an algorithm. "You're not just in tune with that algorithm, you are it," I told her in our exchange of messages, graciously