A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

 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...