A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

These days literature festivals abound with so many towns hosting, plus, of course, the bookshop tours and talks by authors when their new books are launched. It's many years since I went to such an event but last weekend I certainly made up for it. The Youngest was visiting, so we took the opportunity to spend Saturday afternoon in Durham City where its annual Book Festival was underway. A cold wind was blowing through the city centre, so after a bracing walk across the market square we were glad of our pre-booked tickets and shelter in the Gala Theatre. The next morning I dropped her at the station for a train back to London and work, whilst I proceeded to meet up with a friend to travel to Harrogate for another book event in the comfort of its Convention Centre, although, to be fair, without the chilly wind the town felt almost spring-like. All events had a similar format with a host posing questions from the comfort of an armchair and the author perched on the sofa's edge, ...

This week is a startling anniversary; fifty years since I arrived at university as a naïve young fresher. My closest friend from that era and I decided to mark the occasion.  We opened a bottle of wine. It was, of course, considerably better quality than the half pints of cider we were accustomed to buying in the Hall Bar five decades ago. Goodness me where has all that time gone? Back in 1976, we had been required to present ourselves on 4th October. As she had arrived suffering from the after effects of a virus, she had skipped dinner and gone straight to bed. On this occasion, with her staying over at mine, I offered to replicate that first university dinner: stew followed by gooseberry crumble, according to my trustworthy diary from the time, and I had specifically noted that neither dish was at all pleasant! In the end I couldn't bring myself to indulge our nostalgic musings to that extent and I hopefully served up something a little more satisfying to our tastebuds. Sadly, al...

 Mister E’s incapacity has been accompanied by my own incarceration in an effort to ensure he obeys doctor’s orders and avoids unnecessary stress to his new joint. We’ve had groceries delivered rather than twice weekly shopping trips and I’ve found myself spending more and more time in the kitchen; that centre of the domestic heartland.  This enforced period of time at home has coincided with a glut of beetroot in the vegetable patch. Firing on all cylinders, I have put my creativity to work and have been cooking all things beetroot. We’ve eaten them boiled, roasted, curried and pickled. We’ve had everything from beetroot and feta on toast to beetroot risotto. Combining them with apples from our tree, I also made a relish. My culinary practice hasn’t stopped with savoury dishes; there have been beetroot and vanilla cupcakes one day, beetroot brownies the next.  I’ve almost convinced myself I could be a Niche Nigella, even if, I concede, it would require sustained effort! ...

There have been various times in my life when I've suddenly realised from an awareness of others around me that I have, shall we say, grown up a little more.  The first occasion was probably the day I started school, being met, along with my contemporaries, by mothers pushing prams and pushchairs with siblings too small to be embarking on the big adventure. Later, as we progressed to secondary education, I recall marvelling at not only how cute the little children heading to primary school were, but also how much younger they seemed in comparison to my own peer group. Rushing through adulthood, the years move on apace and there definitely comes a day when you realise that yes, policemen do look very young. In my profession and approaching retirement, the same could be said for barristers.  Once retired, I have been less conscious of the differences, cocooned as I am in my own little tribe of seniors. That began to change a few years ago when some of those around me, started to...

  Fifty years on from the legendary summer of 1976, this year it seems surpassed all records. Of course, half a century older, I'm not as adept at handling day after day of wall to wall sunshine and high temperatures; neither for that matter is my garden. Somehow or other we contrived to survive and whilst I'm not complaining about the sudden but otherwise very welcome change in weather conditions since the beginning of this month, it is a little like returning to Earth with a bump. In my post back on 9th June , I mentioned that we were planning another ferry trip and we duly set off only 10 days later. Spotted walking up the road with our backpacks, neighbours offered us lifts to the station, but there was to be no cheating and so, senior passes at the ready, we left by public service bus. On arrival we encountered the first of many laden treks, on this occasion from the stop at one end of town to the station at the other. Sometimes and despite the  afternoon heat, you have t...

  I've been clearing out our garage again this week. It's one of those once a year tasks that involves countless discussions with Mister E as to what is useful and what really should just be binned. In my book anything that moved to the house with us more than 25 years ago and has sat unused ever since has to be ripe for jettisoning, but Mister E applies other benchmarks, especially when it comes to "boat stuff." Bit by bit, year on year a little more edges its way towards the dustcart. Give me another two decades and the garage shelves might finally be properly decluttered. There are, of course, always items that do prove their worth even if the gap in using them exceeds a quarter of a century. That was the case with Mister E's precious sextant. He used it on some seriously long Atlantic voyages in the early 1980's before modern navigational aides became widely accessible to the leisure yachtsman.  After that, it lay unused until 1999 when  he and the eldest ...

Hats off to Andy Burnham for his speech on social care today. Since returning from an 18 day trip (more in another post) I have been very much banging my head against the wall with the authorities within a system that isn't so much broken or unfit for purpose as barely functioning or perhaps even extinct. When you have dementia and are blind, you can genuinely believe that not only are you completely rational and can cope, but that you can also see. It's a time bomb ticking towards an explosion and when it does there's an inevitable crisis. At least I've learned a new word: anosognosia. Moreover, I've had plenty of time to practise saying it whilst I've been holding on the phone line for hours in total trying to speak to someone who can assist. In the midst of a safeguarding dilemma, you do not expect everyone to keep referring you to the Duty Officer in the Department of Social Care, the emergency telephone number for which only ever results in an answerphone t...

A few weeks ago I invested in my first full-size backpack in five decades. A couple of weeks later we set off with our luggage on our backs. We do, of course, enjoy our creature comforts so, comfortable hotels booked, the aim, in otherwise Race Across the World style, was simply to travel light from one destination to another using public transport and the occasional taxi. We were only away eight nights and, passing through London, obviously spent two of those with the grandchildren. Otherwise our destination was across the Channel at Saint Malo with time too at Mont St Michel. Although there was a period in our lives when Saint Malo and Brittany featured frequently in our sailing adventures, Mont St Michel had always eluded us and as purportedly the most visited attraction in France outside of Paris, its allure beckoned. Despite the crowds, it did not disappoint.  We also spent two nights in Portsmouth, primarily so that we could return to the Historic Navy Dockyards. On  the...

  Sometimes, amongst all the noise and busyness, we just need a moment. Five minutes to breathe, put our anxieties to one side and appreciate the gift of an instant in time. There are occasions when something catches our eye and actually forces us to take that moment.  In my case a cactus that flowers in May every year invariably has such an effect. I believe it’s a Rebutia originating from the Andes, although this specimen has been living very happily in my utility room for twenty five years. With the aid of thick gardening gloves, it has been repotted only three times and appears to thrive on neglect. I received it as a gift and, winding back the clock to quarter of a century ago, would never then have envisaged that this small, prickly succulent would bear flowers, let alone still be on my window ledge in retirement. It can be the little things in life that make a difference.

  I would truly find it very hard to properly explain my absence for so long from this blog. Indeed I can do no better than to attribute it to yo-yoing where: we have travelled to and from family in London. I have traipsed in and out of the garden striving to get everything sown and planted between an assortment of weather conditions and temperatures. I have been constantly to and fro to my mother who is of increasing concern to us all. I have tried not to neglect my exercise routines and coffee socials, so it's been backwards and forwards to the gym.  My positivity suffers and my muscles ache. It's the hardest period of retirement so far. Can you believe too that Little Sister has just had her first birthday? It enabled an excuse for squeezing in another trip to London. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if they lived locally but then it would just be another place to yo-yo to daily. I take my hat off to those in retirement who find themselves caring for parents ...

  Time has passed in something of a blur of late, mainly because my mother had the inevitable fall and landed (not literally) in hospital. Fortunately no bones were broken but there was a lot of pain and bruising. Falling can become more commonplace as we age, hence a memo to myself to remember the flamingo impressions going forward and to practise standing on one leg when performing mundane tasks like brushing teeth and washing up. Some things do work and I've fully embraced the culture of striving for fitness in retirement; putting in physical effort to reap a reward certainly seems to make sense. If nothing else, the last ten years have seen me working hard to strengthen those bits and pieces of muscle and sinew holding my knee in place.  I really don't want to be the person who constantly tumbles as I get older. I do struggle, however, to engage with the concept of potions and pills to dispel some of the facets of ageing not to mention painkillers. Wear wrinkles with pride...

Last week was something of a whirlwind! Following on from the birthday, I squeezed in annual blood tests and a dementia café before dashing to London for an overnight visit. The Youngest has just returned from 2 months of skiing in Chamonix and had a few days free before taking up a new position. To be honest Mister E and I had been concerned lest she'd bother to return, believing she'd taken to retirement life just a little too easily, not to mention nearly four decades early. However, she duly did and we met at King's Cross for her to usher me to the Tate Modern. Ever since I suffered theft on the underground, the next generation seems somewhat over-zealous in chaperoning their country cousin mamma through the sites and streets of our crowded capital. Presumably because of the lecture I received on the pitfalls of taking either phone or credit card from my pocket, we made it in one piece into the vast cavernous hall at the centre of the gallery. We had decided to visit t...

I'd like to say Spring is here but it seems to be two steps forward, one back at the moment as we still haven't shaken off those depressing grey skies completely and had a little snow again only on Friday. At least there have been some brighter hours (rather than days) and I have finally been getting into the garden to move forward with the big tidy up that weather conditions conspired to impede last year. Now, with all the winter rain, the earth is turning easily and I have planted garlic whilst the temperatures are still low as well as moving rhubarb crowns. Indoors, I've started to sow seeds. Mainly, however, I just enjoy wandering amongst the flower beds, admiring the bulbs that are beginning to bloom. It even looks as though the chilli powder might have worked its magic, although I won't know for certain until tulip time is here. As winter turns to spring, it is always a revitalising time of the year, associated as it is with birth and new beginnings. Perhaps that...

  Grandchildren have to be the gift that keeps on giving, but why, in my case, is it always a North London cold that they bestow? Yes, another five nights with them and then another week in recovery. It's a pattern that keeps on repeating itself. Forget all those flu, RSV and Pneumococcal vaccines dispensed by the NHS to those of retirement age, what I need is something that protects me against the hotbed of germs that spread in nurseries. On this occasion, our trip's main purpose was to celebrate Grandotty's third birthday. Wherever did those three years disappear to?  Both she and Little Sister were on fine form despite their running noses. Grandotty provides active entertainment, non-stop from 7 am until bedtime, whilst Little Sister has mastered the art of standing up and moving from one piece of furniture to another, putting everything she comes across into her mouth whilst generously smiling, kissing and waving.  We had a family birthday party where I obviously...

  Remember Yosser Hughes from the BBC drama Boys from the Blackstuff? I know, I know, I'm showing my age! Anyway, it all came back to me today when I paid a visit to the Job Centre. I suppose I'd better start by squashing the beginning of any rumour that I went in there seeking work. Instead, I'd like to think it was all part of my quest to explore new places in retirement, even if I did feel like an impostor. I have to say, it was significantly plusher than I imagined although it wasn't quite like a hotel lobby even if I was met by a doorman (aka security guard) who showed me to a vacant couch (not hard seat) whilst he disappeared to find somebody to assist. Sitting there, I began to realise how  open I am to subliminal messaging. Exploring the notices and flyers on the coffee table in front of me, I became intrigued at the idea of having a work coach not to mention stopping smoking (I've never actually started but the classes sounded interesting). Then there were ...

Whoever said that age is just a number was surely being misleading. I know because today I truly felt my three score years and more. The cause could just be the miserable dank and grey weather that continues to permeate every fibre, including last week when we spent our regular week in the Lake District. Endless rain and low cloud limited walking to the valley and only as far as various hostelries in several directions. There again it may be that after another week trying to match Grandotty's energy, I am simply more aware of my limitations. Those limitations were even more pronounced than usual when I realised that despite the best part of a month's arm rest , I still could not properly lift Little Sister although, by way of some complex reasoning, I deemed attempts at doing so as a form of physical therapy along with resistance movements in the swimming pool and warming myself in the infra-red sauna. The last few days, however, have been relatively pain free and I awoke this ...

  I have actually made some progress with planning out my direction for 2026. I'm doing it with the mind-mapping technique and at present have produced a draft of something that resembles a spider's web with text scrawled across it. There's quite  a bit of refinement to be undertaken and detail to be added but, if nothing else, it helps me to put options into perspective and hopefully assist in directing focus as I've realised very quickly that I can't possibly follow every strand of the strange diagram I have created, there just simply aren't going to be sufficient hours in 2026 to permit it! Meanwhile, life continues apace regardless. Last week I spent a very pleasant afternoon in York by myself, visiting the Art Gallery where the pieces shortlisted for the Aesthetica Art Prize of 2025 were still on display complemented by Future Tense: Art in the Age of Transformation. The latter was a huge light installation by Squid Soup and Liz West that you could wander i...

I saw the Doctor last week about the biceps pain I've been struggling with since before Christmas. It transpires it's a partial tear rather than the sprain I had suspected and although I can tell it is healing, albeit slowly, my left arm continues to feel incredibly weak. All that effort I put in to stay fit and one muscle chooses to repay me with an injury and eight weeks of rest from lifting anything with it  As ever, I've found the silver lining in the form of my tax return which, freed from some of my regular gym classes, I've been able to complete and submit with breathing space before the 31st January deadline. The weather has been exceptionally cold too, so I've snuggled down with a book for a couple of hours every day and ticked four off my reading list for the year. With those, a birthday lunch, non-weight-bearing classes, tidying up after the festive period's visitors and sorting various issues for my elderly mum, I've not been exactly idle. Despit...

Well here we are in the Year 2026 and my very best wishes for health and happiness to all. From New Year to New Year's Resolutions to New Me; I think that's how the theory goes. If so, I'm ashamed to say that discernible change at this end is non-existent. All those thoughts of renewal and revival went out of the window when I awoke yesterday feeling totally exhausted, nursing the beginnings of a cold and a biceps sprain that has haunted me the whole of the festive season. Start the year as you mean to go on? On this form, no thank you.  Of course, it's only a hiccup. It's arrived, however, just after a lovely Christmas when so many of the extended family visited and close family stayed; I got the shopping in and decorations up in time; cooked for what can only be described as crowds on three occasions and enjoyed the company of those gorgeous grandchildren for eight full days. We've eaten all the left-overs and there are some days when I swear I haven't lef...