A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  We spent a week over Christmas in London at the home of the Eldest and Dilly. It was brilliant to spend so much time with our family (the youngest stayed too), especially with our granddaughter who reached the dizzy age of 10 months on Christmas Eve. As she's already becoming a confident walker after taking her first steps somewhat precociously over 2 months ago now, she was into everything. The ladies, however, chose to escape on the Saturday before Christmas, making our way to Pudding Hill Lane and the ABBA Arena for a performance of ABBA:Voyage. I'm not sure that I was fully prepared (platform shoes aside) for what to expect and confess to finding the whole experience somewhat surreal. It honestly felt as though we were at a live concert with ABBA on stage. Just how authentic are those virtual reality avatars? Forget botox and cosmetic surgery, this has to be the obvious route to eternal youth. Trouble is, with my singing voice, I doubt anybody would be interested in prese

  I know that across the world there are so many communities that through war, natural disasters or lack of funding for infrastructure are going without what we in the West regard as basic necessities. Contaminated water alone brings so much illness and disease. The statistics are appalling. According to Water Aid’s website,  almost 1 in 10 people globally do not have access locally to clean water. Back at Chez Nous, retired life has had some luxury restored to it with a temporary connection from the new water pipe to the house. After laboratory testing early in January, we are confident that the Do Not Drink Notice will be revoked. The best Christmas present ever! It would be wonderful if we could share it with those who will continue without but, in the absence of some truly miraculous Christmas magic, I guess a charity donation must suffice. In the meantime my best wishes too for your very own Happy Christmas.

  Yesterday I had one of my regular monthly meet-ups with a very dear friend. In the summer months, we normally include a long walk in our itinerary; in the winter we tend to fequent museums and art galleries. There was no mistaking what time of year it was on this occasion, not least when we had a mince pie each with our coffee. I set off in the dark and returned in the dark, there was a definite chill to the air and the trains I used to reach our rendezvous were crowded with Christmas shoppers and charity fund raisers dressed as elves! It is often said that, in the words of TS Eliot, "The journey, not the destination matters." In so far as I enjoyed the thrill of the train ride, I agree. I used a newly downloaded app to be guided to the correct platform for train changes and daringly managed the whole trip with only digital barcodes on my phone; both novel experiences for this retired traveller who normally likes to err on the side of caution with everything printed out in

  No, it may be 9th December but I haven't yet been to a Christmas  Disco. I know there's something about regressing as you age but going back to those teenage years when the whole of December seemed like one endless party isn't something I've yet subscribed to in retirement. That said, the Fitness Studio at the gym was recently upgraded to include vertical fluorescent strip lights on the walls that can be set to flash and change colour. Far superior in fact to the projected colours at the local community hall that my 15 year old self  frequented. In Keep Fit to Music the other day, the memories came flooding back, even if I was lying on the floor at the time in a hip bridge. I assure you it had nothing to do with any historic attempt at break dancing (which, in my youth, certainly hadn't caught on where I grew up). Rather, I think it was inspired by the Christmas soundtrack that the instructor had introduced by way of seasonal gesture.  All those Christmas melodies

  We had our regular annual review with our Financial Advisor this week. The investments that sustain our pension funds remain stagnant as we were already aware, but the good news is that, regardless, he recommends spending them on exploring Planet Retirement. Money matters but so does fulfilment. Obviously, first Covid and then this year the requirement for our presence to resolve the leaking oil issue, have both intervened to curtail our travels and experiences. Consequently, he echoed our concern that we don't want to miss out for too long, ending up in frail health and unable to realise lifetime ambitions.  We are so conscious of this and whilst vague plans are frustrated at present, it's good to have ratification from a third party. How easy it must be in retirement to slip into sitting at home in splendid isolation adopting the attitude that venturing out is only hassle. There may be a time in the future when we have to embrace that restricted lifestyle but for the moment

How do the truly elderly navigate bureaucracy? Recently I had an uncomfortable experience from checking an older relative's energy bill. Her gas and electricity come from one of our largest providers and back in August when I had conducted the same check, I submitted meter readings for her, naively thinking that her direct debit payments would be reduced because of the credit that had built up. Now why ever would I think that an energy supplier might behave decently and do this, especially for somebody whom it has listed as a vulnerable person? Yesterday it was apparent that instead not only had the direct debit payment been increased but the credit was now running into 4 figures and so far as I could see approximated a whole year's supply of energy. Not wanting to telephone, because I really can't stand those awful "Your call is important to us," messages as you hold for eternity, I decided to try the chat bot. I succinctly explained that we were looking for a re

  Hunkering down from the wintry weather, I've picked up a piece of embroidery that I must have begun over twenty years ago, possibly just after the youngest was born. I have a vague recollection of working on it again upon the birth of a niece or nephew but essentially it has lain untouched in a drawer for two decades. Memory plays tricks, so when I saw it there I was convinced that it was almost complete, only to unfold it and discover quite the contrary. On the basis that I'm always up for a challenge in retirement and there's nothing to entice me to venture out this weekend, I decided to concentrate on endeavouring, at long last, to finish it. Clearly you don't call it cross-stitch for nothing. In fact I'd go so far as to say you don't call it cross stitch because of its shape and intersecting lines. Rather the name must surely derive from the vexing nature of pushing needle through cotton and back at the exact points required by the pattern and all the whil

  I guess the title Christmas Yoga conjures up images of various poses in Santa Claus hats. Whilst a few eager contemporaries squeezed in a yoga session yesterday morning, the rest of us waited until early afternoon to make an appearance in the function room of a local public house for a festive get together. In retirement large Christmas social events can be pretty much non-existent. Indeed I'm sure I've left the days of polite conversation, wine and canapes under a ceiling of gawdy decorations, behind me in the business world. Yesterday was something quite different. A group of approximately 2 dozen retired ladies, who are committed to practising Yoga (at least now and again), dispensed with their leggings and instead congregated in their best frocks to enjoy a Christmas dinner together. The bar did a roaring trade, a relatively sedate quiz became a raucous affair and the laughter, chatting and occasional outbreak of song, went on for more than 4 hours. There were crackers an