A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  Well I never! Several years ago I changed the background and layout of this blog and in so doing and for no obvious reason lost the ability to reply to specific comments. Ever since, I've been obliged instead simply to make my own comment in response. Today and as a consequence of circumstances of which I profess no knowledge, my right to comment has suddenly returned. I know that as we get older, we are supposed to become more set in our ways and dislike change, but this is one alteration I certainly approve of and long may it last. Whilst referring to change, a main topic of discussion at the gym this morning was inevitably the weather. There was a general concurrence that this week we appear to be edging noticeably towards autumn. Now that's a change I honestly don't like too much, especially when we waited so long for summer sunshine to make an appearance this year. Of course August is rushing by, the nights are definitely getting darker sooner and before we know it,

  My vegetable patch has been notably absent from this blog and indeed my life this summer. Before we vacated our home, I planted potatoes and onions and then left it. Forays back to the garden have been made only to harvest new potatoes and shallots as well as from the fruit trees. Sadly whilst the trees are doing us proud, mainly because of the lack of wasps this year, the harvest from the ground has so far proved disappointing. It demonstrates, I suppose, that my regular presence is indeed required to administer tender loving care in the form of a watering can and fertiliser, as needed. That said, and however much I enjoy gardening, it has been a boon not to feel tied down in the servitude of peas and cabbages. So much so, that I have now even been devising plans for next years vegetable beds which might see two or three of them taken out of action. I have a feeling that displays of colourful blooms amongst the edible crops might be easier on the back, require less man hours to cult

   I spent last weekend in a one man tent at the World Yoga Festival on the showground at Henley on Thames. I confess I've never been to a festival before but on the basis that meat, never mind alcohol, was strictly forbidden I knew it would avoid the excesses that the Youngest has described to me from her own experiences at Glastonbury and beyond.  All chanting and drumming stopped by 11pm; the weather was wonderful; the ladies I went with were great company; I was exhausted from all the Yoga classes and other activities; my appetite was sated from the vegan food stalls. Regardless, I slept terribly! Maybe it was that hard bump on the ground beneath my sleeping bag but I'm convinced camping gets harder as you age.  Why put myself through the hardship? It's another dimension to my exploration of Planet Retirement and that quest for the holy grail which if it's not the meaning of life must at least be the route to its fulfilment.  When I first entered retirement, burn ou