A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

    After a brief sojourn in the UK to provide sufficient time to process the laundry from our last trip, vote in the General Election and catch yet another awful cold, we headed south again. This time our destination was Ponta Delgada in the Azores. You may recall our aborted mission to reach there in 2022. This time we decided to eliminate the risk of an ocean crossing by flying directly to Sao Miguel, 41 years since Mister E sailed there from Dartmouth in a small 34 foot yacht. It was something of a history test for him as he sought to get his bearings but, in so doing, becoming resigned to the fact that the spot where he had tied his boat to a buoy is now buried under a concrete extension to the port infrastructure. He also bewailed the tourist industry that has developed since he plus his crew of one had arrived as something of lone adventurers back in the day. At least he was thankful for the absence of the packs of wild dogs, as he described them, and our hotel accommodation wa

  I have already referred in passing to our trip to Portugal from which we returned on 4th July. It was a fascinating journey arriving in Lisbon and returning from Porto in the company of a small group of similar aged travellers. I suppose the big question is, can I recommend it for retirement vacations? Like so many of the world's popular destinations, Lisbon and Porto in particular were very crowded with lengthy queues to enter the best known attractions; the number 28 tram had standing room only and allegedly carries pickpockets as well as tourists in a city renowned as one of the safest in the world. The railway station in Porto with its beautiful tiled frescoes is awash with sightseers making the simple act of boarding a train something of a squeeze before even reaching the platform.   Away from the better known towns, life is much more peaceful and the Douro Valley astoundingly beautiful. Wine, port and traditional pastries made to old recipes were abundant. Our accommodation

  Never before have I been so grateful to hear that one little word, "broken." For months now, witnessing the alarming increase in NHS waiting times and repeated examples of maladministration, I have had concerned discussions with friends where we have bemoaned the fact that just when we might be on the cusp of needing it the most, the NHS clearly cannot cope. Of course, those conversations have taken place against a backdrop of Tory propaganda telling us how many more hospitals have been built, staff recruited and additional spending deployed. In truth that £350 million a week promised on the Vote Leave battle bus has never been needed so much. Such a shame it was never ever going to be deliverable. Thank you, therefore, to the new Health Minister, Wes Streeting, for saying yesterday what we have all known for sometime: The NHS is broken. How refreshing to hear something that accords with public perception instead of the constant lies and slogans of the previous incumbents. 

  We returned from a journey through Portugal in time to vote on Thursday. It was our first foreign trip in over a year (because of that dreadful house issue) and I have to say it took a while to acclimatise ourselves once again to the challenges of travelling. When I say acclimatise there were no problems on the weather front, discounting rain on 5 days but we had at least gone prepared with waterproofs. Now I know a year had elapsed, but I'm confident that on our previous ventures, save for a small purse of euros, we have managed our funds by way of one of those credit cards that promises a live exchange rate and no transaction fees. Starting in Lisbon, it wasn't long before we came across bars and cafes where cash was king. Of course, that should not have been a problem as, armed with a Santander debit card, we are promised cash withdrawals from the Bank's ATMs again free of charges and with the live exchange rate. Even better, Google Maps confirmed any number of Santand

  Now summer has decided to make an appearance, we’ve been taking advantage of the warm weather. It started with a trip to the beach with the Eldest who was visiting and who kindly appointed me as camera man for his surfing antics. Then we all travelled south to spend more time with Grandotty. At 16 months her vocabulary is obviously limited, but it is amazing how much of life can be condensed down to “more” and “gone.” She also provided an incisive perspective on living in the moment. When you are coerced by a tiny tot into noticing and acknowledging every bird and bug, with a pointed finger and either a “bir” or a “bu”, you begin to be so much more aware of the world around you. I’ve stared with avid interest at a snail crawling along the patio edge, watched a bee on a garden lily, spotted a spider in the corner and lost count of the number of pigeons I’ve waved my index finger at with glee. They all move on to an accompaniment of “gone” and a plea for “more.” As an adult, the joy of

    Today marks ten years since I shut down my office computer for the last time, closed my briefcase and walked out of the door into Planet Retirement. That's right, unbelievable though it seems, it was a decade ago! Having just reached what is currently the official state retirement age, I do feel privileged to have retired when I did. I am conscious that had I in fact waited until now, I would probably be entering this strange new world in a state of total exhaustion and significantly reduced good health. Are there any little nuggets of wisdom I can take from my experience and share? At risk of sounding like a cliched reality TV show contestant, it has certainly been a journey. An exploratory trip into the unknown where time and freedom combine to offer a choice of pursuits and lifestyle. Ultimately I have opted to try to live more simply with less, embrace nature and honour my health and well-being. There is a beautiful world out there that enclosed in a workplace we may barely

    Remember telegrams that arrived within the hour? What about first class post guaranteed to drop through the letterbox by 8am the next day in an era when there were actually two postal deliveries every morning? Are these memories that make me sound as though I've stepped out of antiquity or am instead posing as a stereotypical senior grumbler? I guess if I was half a century older, I might even recall the day when you could post a letter in the morning and it was delivered that afternoon. Too often in retirement, no longer caught up in the world of instant business communication and all the pressures that brings, I've had time to witness what seem to be retrospective steps when it comes to longstanding means for connectivity. After all, how reliable even is the telephone system now, with its digital service and voice over internet protocol? Today, however, I was impressed. There are some things that can match those memories of speedy dispatch and arrival. I speak of Amazon P

  I am still making the most of having a train station within walking distance and on Thursday I used it to travel to meet a friend. She'd arranged to meet me at my destination station of Huddersfield with her car so that we could travel onwards to Wentworth Castle Gardens and Deer Park.  When we organise one of our monthly get togethers it is invariably to somewhere we can walk, talk and have lunch. Wentworth did not disappoint on any of those scores and included the added attraction of wildlife, songbirds and meadow flowers, not to mention an occasional bench to sit and admire the view on our stroll. The problem with train travel and a rendezvous is, of course, punctuality. Imagine my excitement therefore when I was able to text to verify that I had left on time and then, just over seventy minutes  later, confirm the same thing as we pulled out of Leeds, triggering my friend's departure from her home to meet me. In recent years Transpennine Express has become a notorious misn

  Already this feels like the longest run up to an election ever. In reality it will actually be only 3 weeks tomorrow since a rain-soaked Rishi Sunak stood in Downing Street amidst a downpour to announce that we would be going to the polls on July 4th. With another 3 weeks to go until election day, it feels like an eternity. I  guess my attitude isn't helped by the knowledge that it doesn't particularly matter how I vote, because since retiring that X has invariably never gone into the winning box. No wonder I don't play the National Lottery! It would be nice to think that this time the outcome might be different but, as a member of the electorate in the Prime Minister's own constituency where he has one of the safest majorities in the country, I suspect that nothing much will change so far as my bad run in picking winners and feeling of disenfranchisement are concerned. I was just checking the list of candidates seeking election today and it must be said that now he i

  When I made the transition into retirement I was captivated by the knowledge that I could plan excursions to avoid peak traffic, bad weather or whatever else might intervene to impede my journey. Presumably it is now a sign of maturity that, almost ten years on, I am simply ready to accept and go with the flow. It's not that I actively seek to join a queue of traffic but I'm probably not quite so diligent in my avoidance planning. Take mid-week for example when Mister E and I squeezed in a cheeky two nights away in a country house hotel on Lake Ullswater. Of course I knew Appleby Horse Fair was in the offing but no, I didn't think to check the exact dates. The net effect of that was, of course, that we crossed the Pennines on the A66 amidst a wave of horses and ponies tugging carts and caravans. One horse, in particular was struggling to trot in a straight line, regularly crossing the white lines down the middle of the road, causing mayhem and delay on both sides of the

 I have been working my way through children's games that I removed from one particular cupboard at our recently vacated home. This is an area that I've attacked a couple of times already in retirement, donating unused toys and other paraphernalia to charity shops. There remained, however, a mixture of well used board games, some stemming from my own childhood but also enjoyed by the Eldest and Youngest, as well too as their collection of game-consoles and the games that they loved to play on them. There will no longer be a place for most of them in our home when we return. Was it even rational to feel attachment to these games, no matter how long we've had them as a family? Those made in the 1960's were hardly vintage boxed originals from the 1930's, but could I let them go after so long? Pragmatism crept in when I lifted the Monopoly box and it almost disintegrated in my hands. The contents looked sad and crumbling. In Cluedo the Detectives' Notes had been fil

  To be frank, moving as we have done is a little like finding ourselves on an extended self catering holiday. Freed from the shackles of being surrounded by onerous maintenance, projects and objects, there's so much more time to devote to the business of retirement itself.  Ten miles east from our permanent home, we are ten miles closer to the sea. Consequently we have already passed two very enjoyable days at the coast in recent weeks.  The first coincided with a visit from the family including Grandotty, as well as what was probably the warmest day we've experienced so far this year. The eldest grabbed his surfboard and the rest of us picnicked on the beach as Grandotty was introduced to the pleasures of sand and waves. Inevitably, the sand found its way into her mouth, whilst she thought the waves a little daunting. Experiencing the familiar sound, smell and scenery of the shore through the reactions of a youngster, however, is on par with discovering them yourself for the

  Yes, I had heard tell that moving home can be up there with all of life's other big stressors but never did I imagine how difficult it can be. Given a deadline of just under 5 weeks to find a rental property and vacate our own home, it was never going to be easy, but a paucity of suitable lettings meant I didn't for a moment appreciate just how tough the challenge we faced would turn out. In the end the loss adjuster appointed a relocation agent to assist and although we had to identify and view potential properties, they at least did the negotiating for us. Finding a house to take all of our possessions as well as ourselves in the  area where we live was always going to be tricky and ultimately a compromise had to be made. We've moved 10 miles to the east, to the edge of suburbia into a modern estate home, some 1,000 square feet smaller then we've been accustomed to. Reducing our entourage of belongings was a battlefield in itself. I'm still sorting through piles