A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

We have just returned from one of our twice yearly stays in the Langdale Valley in the Lake District. It is not unusual for an August visit to be tinged with hints of autumn. This year, however, we were surprised to note that yellowing leaves and the first signs of autumnal colours are more noticeable at home in  North Yorkshire, attributable, I guess, to our summer of drought. The Lake District never seems to suffer from a shortage of rain, or at least not when we visit. This year was no exception and whilst the weather was warm, we certainly experienced some atrocious downpours.  We were delighted to be accompanied by all the family including, of course, Grandotty and Little Sister. The great benefit of grandchildren those ages (two and a half and  four months) is that neither is particularly suited for long and high fell walking. This means that Grandma had the perfect excuse, in addition to her dodgy knee, to opt out too and instead spent her days by the river, tracki...

  One of my pleasures in retirement has been my garden, particularly the  greenhouse and vegetable patch. Sadly, because of the excavation work that took place starting in the autumn of 2023 and followed in 2024 by our vacating the house, the whole garden has been very much neglected. I had to abandon any thought of planting this year when there were so many other chores to contend with inside the house, after we returned at the end of March.  In light of the persistent dry conditions and high temperatures, a fallow plot may well have been fortuitous and, with the hosepipe ban, has certainly saved me hours of carrying watering cans.  Nevertheless, a reduction in the temperature, cloud cover and some free afternoons over the past week have finally encouraged me to try to regain a semblance of order outside and, ever the organiser, to consider  a game plan for next year. That's not easy when in recent years we have never known whether the earth is going to drown o...

  The past couple of weeks have flown by. During it I have repeatedly felt like the filling between a slice of young and a slice of old, as I've dashed between the family's oldest and youngest generations. Grandotty had her first ever sleepover with us when her parents travelled north for a week, before they left with Little Sister  to attend and stay overnight at a wedding celebration. I'm glad to say the grandparents survived unscathed and Grandotty was an absolute delight. The only cloud on the horizon, apart from the post-babysitting fatigue,  was that due to a technical oversight on the part of her parents, we were provided with only 3 spare pairs of disposable training pants for the whole 24 hours that she was in our care. A little slow on the uptake, we didn't realise until after the nearest supermarket (8 miles away) had closed on late Sunday afternoon. Hats off to Grandotty, we didn't quite manage to complete a crash course in toilet training but she did as...

  An opportunity presented itself and Mister E and I took full advantage to escape for 16 nights. It started only a few days after a long weekend back in London with the grandchildren and ended with a repeat visit to them. In between, we made our way to Chester and onwards, staying on the Llyn Peninsula, at Portmeirion, the Ironbridge Gorge and the Cotswolds. There's actually something quite special about being able to holiday in the UK whilst basking in sunshine. All in all, not that dissimilar to travelling in foreign climes: we returned relaxed, suntanned and sporting insect bites!  There are periods in retirement where I can be very settled within the company of "my tribe" surrounded by familiar places and scenery. Travel always broadens horizons and in your own country can challenge previously held perceptions. Flora and fauna vary; people differ; roads and architecture are unfamiliar. The joy of conversing with strangers; exploring local history; admiring the views;...

  There’s a meme circulating on the internet at the moment to the effect that for the first time ever a British woman finally went out, leaving her cardigan at home. Today, amidst all this glorious sunshine and stifling heat, I did likewise! There are some things that never change though: I still had an umbrella in my bag! Image by  emmabeyjd  from  Pixabay

    On 18th June I reached my 11th anniversary of retirement. In previous years I've always tried to post a reflective blog entry, checking in on where exactly I am on this long journey of exploration. This year, it simply was not possible. Retirement has always presented itself to me in staged phases. They have not always been  immediately  recognisable  but with the benefit of hindsight I know that I have moved from the honeymoon period of  frenetic, hamster-wheeling energy to something slower and more appreciative. I've tried to embrace new experiences and freedom, avoid stress and make the most of every option, creating opportunities for travel, simplification, well-being, creativity  and joy. There have been downtimes but growing resilience has always pulled me through and I've learnt to embrace the quiet interludes as well as the busy ones. A year ago, I was sharing little pearls of wisdom as I'd reached what seemed to be a contented phase of re...

  I thought I'd acquired more patience with mindless bureaucracy in retirement. Imagining a surfeit of time, no deadlines, flexible living, you'd definitely think that patience would be added to the list. Certainly retirement started out very much in that vein . Perhaps I'm turning into the proverbial grumpy old woman or standards are just slipping, but sadly the last week or two have demonstrated that irritation rather than tolerance is scoring higher on my roll of reactions at present. Starting with the clowns who were responsible for the remediation work to our property: they only forgot to tell Building Control that they'd finished. Let's hope the Inspector doesn't want our tiles and cupboards pulling out to inspect the completed floors underneath! Then there's all the health and care workers I've been liaising with of late trying to resolve issues for my mother. Over promising and under delivering seems to be the hallmark of their services at presen...

    I had intended to write a blogpost on 9th May about the VE Day tea party the day before at the almshouses where I am a trustee. Normally I'm somewhat sceptical of such events, when so many lend themselves to hijacking in the cause of jingoism. This party had, however, been requested by the residents in circumstances where at least half of them still had memories of the end of the war back in 1945. It succeeded in hitting the right note when the Chairman asked everyone to acknowledge those who had sacrificed their lives and although there was flag waving (for a press photo) and singing; Rule Britannia and its ilk were avoided. The residents themselves had assisted in the preparation of the decorations including jars of flowers, where the red, white and blue effect was valiantly achieved with the help of a permanent marker pen! In any event, I digress because there is a reason why I never wrote that blog entry and it came in the shape of a wonderful 2.48kg bundle when Dilly ...

  The spin dryer on our trusty washing machine has broken. Instead of turning at 1200 rpm, it moans, groans, and twirls at maybe 60 rpm. How long do we expect to hang onto our white goods for? This one has served us well for just over 15 years and to be honest after a year stagnating in the garage whilst its home in the utility room was dug out, we never expected it to work again. It surprised us, however, and seemed keen to spring back into life, even if I did have to run a few seriously hot washes and a descaling cleaner to get rid of the musty smell that had built up inside. Now, some six weeks later it has slowly ground to a halt. The washing has literally been hung out to dry as a consequence. A big decision  had to be made; did we seek to have it repaired or was it time to buy a new one? You might recall we had this exact same dilemma in 2019. Back then and in an effort to boost our green credentials, we relied on the repair man and it proved to be a wise decision....

  Experience suggests that the weather is always somewhat disappointing on a Bank Holiday weekend. The last three days have been no exception. We've had a couple of minor rain showers but mainly it's because of the way temperatures have plummeted after last week's magnificent highs. Not that I've ever felt particularly affected in retirement, after all there's always the week before and the week after to revel in, with the genuine prospect of some good days amongst them. Whilst a dismal Bank Holiday Monday was a source of grief when working, in retirement it hardly matters especially as generally we try to stay put and avoid the crowds.   With favourable albeit cooler conditions outside, I've been trying to bring a sense of order back to the rather overgrown wilderness that is our garden. Of course, it's not the best time for pruning with birds nesting all over the place and digging over borders has been a non-starter as the ground is currently like concrete...

  With all this glorious Spring weather, I certainly feel grateful to be back at home. The joys of pottering in the garden and listening to the birds singing are mine once more. Everything has burst into flower, especially the apple blossom and, so long as we do get rain before too long, it looks as though it could be an impressive crop.       Mind it's not the only plant that's proudly strutting its flowers at the moment. I have a cactus that's over 30 years old and can usually be relied on for a delightful display of colour at this time of year. Last year, in exile, however, it didn't bother. I know how it felt! This year, it's clearly glad to be home, just like me. In retirement we've reached an age where hopefully we feel comfortable in our own skin, our slippers and  our hearth-side. I don't actually have a fireplace, but I get the meaning. After a whole year adrift off foreign shores, finally I feel content once again. The bags or should I say plethora...

  I think it's well understood that as we get older we can find it harder to recall information and easier to misplace items. Just like the rest of the body, the brain begins to show its age too. I'm fortunate in that, to date, I have always had a good memory but, like everyone, I can and do mislay things. Experience over the years has suggested, however, that most things I lose are invariably found in the first place I look, although rarely on the first occasion that I look there. Commonsense suggests, of course, that they would hardly be mislaid if I immediately found them where I thought they were. Historically the main items that go walk about in my particular case are keys and spectacles. Recently I was unable to find my house keys. I was certain that I had them when we moved and the first place I searched was my gym bag after a hunch that I'd put them there on my first gym visit after our move. Despite emptying the bag of its contents, they were not there and searchin...

  After my last blogpost, you'd be forgiven for thinking I'd dashed off for a sabbatical on a desert island thus explaining my apparent absence from this platform. Sadly, and much as I might wish otherwise, I've instead been maintaining the huge effort required to re-establish our home. I'm not sure if it's age that's catching up with me but I'm certainly not finding it as easy as I might have imagined. There again being forced to knuckle down in retirement and tackle work that I would not have chosen, if it weren't for the circumstances, is a strange phenomenon after the carefully orchestrated freedom of the past decade. That said, I did manage to squeeze 6 nights in London when I helped out with Grandotty's childcare. I'm unsure what the expectations of me were but, for some bizarre reason, the Eldest and Dilly seemed to think I was the ideal person to  sort potty training. Perhaps they assumed that my memory would extend back 30 plus years to ...

  Hard to believe but a week ago today removers arrived to pack for us and then the next day return our furniture and belongings to our own home. Since then I have been living in a state of total chaos and non-stop cleaning, although finally, after a 12 day sabbatical, I returned to the gym on Wednesday for a rest! I know moving is reputed to be one of life's stressors but this time around both Mister E and I have really suffered. I thought returning to our own home would be a breeze but when you are surrounded by every room full of boxes to unpack, it would take more than hypnosis to convince you that unwrapping the contents is like all your Christmases coming at once. Couple that with having to clean both properties and I'm now paying the price with muscle strain in my lower back. To be fair the contractor had arranged for a professional clean at our own home, but as the cleaners were unable to access the parts that have been remediated there was plenty of dirt and grime fo...

   I had a birthday at the weekend. Falling, as it does, in the early part of March, it was always touch and go as I grew up as to whether it would snow on the big day or not. That hasn't been an issue in recent years but this year delivered up a first. When Mister E and I took a break from decorating at our home, as we get the unaffected areas prepared for our return, we sat on our patio area and ate lunch (sandwiches from a Tupperware container) outside! Since then, normal service has resumed and when I set off for the gym this morning it was, of course, sleeting.  Needless to say I am now keeping a careful eye on the forecast which currently says it is going to rain non-stop on our moving date. Fingers crossed that it is as inaccurate as ever. In the past, I have often mused over the fact that I am now able to plan my days around the weather. There are some commitments, however, that even in retirement I realise I'm desperate to keep, rain or shine.   ...

  In my last post I commented on what seems to be the frantic nature of life as you run from one commitment to another. Who'd have thought how easily you can fall into the trap of doing this, even when you are retired and theoretically have time at your disposal. I've been ruminating on my folly and although that wonderful feeling of tranquility is clearly linked to a slower tempo, it isn't true that in order to appreciate the joy of life you always have to operate at a snail's pace. Indeed the early years of retirement are very definitely an opportunity for adventure and exploration; deriving thrill from the novel and unfamiliar.   Two weeks ago, when I was in London for Grandotty's birthday, I took advantage of the Eldest and Dilly working, Grandotty spending the day in nursery and Mister E struggling with an aching foot, to set out alone. On this occasion I headed for Whitehall and the Churchill War Rooms. It's not a venue that I have ever visited before and ...

  This morning proved to be the perfect antidote to all that juggling . I made it to the gym for 9.00 am and circuit training. Then, with almost a 2 hour gap until a Yoga class, I gravitated to the spa area for the first time this calendar year. A typical March nip in the air did not prevent me from venturing into the outdoor jacuzzi where, surrounded by rising bubbles and with a view over the open countryside, all felt well and tranquil. The steam room, infra red sauna, and rain-forest shower prolonged the effect. Lounging in the tepidarium after a soak in the hydrotherapy pool (more bubbles), life felt peaceful once again. I lingered over dressing and drying my hair; those daily tasks that are usually rushed. Then finally a flowing Yoga session after which I emerged back into the world, serene and calm. It never lasts long though does it? A ten mile drive to my local town and a frantic search for a parking space before arriving for a hair appointment with only a minute to spare....

  Oh my goodness. I'd never considered retirement could be pressurising until recently when , just like those jolly times in a working life, I've found myself juggling.  There's still no working boiler at home but our return date remains fixed and is ever more imminent. Consequently anxiety levels are rising and there's now decluttering at both ends of our personal property chain too. I'd like to think that letting go after you've gone without for almost 12 months would be easy, but sadly I'm still finding it challenging! Then there's decorating to finish, whilst dodging workmen and dust to complete it. Not much multi-tasking there you might think, however I failed to factor in my mother undergoing her own little crisis and the time it takes to provide support and solutions. Regrettably, her end of the retirement spectrum is less alluring than mine, although no doubt I'll find plenty of material to blog about if I ever reach my nineties. What I think...

 I have frequently been disappointed, especially in retirement, returning to once visited or even frequented places. Perhaps I retain an idealised notion in my head as to how things used to be or maybe, just maybe, they have deteriorated. Often, of course, the disenchantment has stemmed from their growth in popularity, with crowds and traffic detracting from the experience. There was no such let down yesterday when a friend and I went to see Skipton Castle. In my case, it was the first time I had stepped through the ancient gatehouse since my childhood. Consequently my memories were vague, although I do have an abiding recollection of my first ever encounter with a garderobe (medieval toilet), peering through a hole to the cliffside and water below! Guess what, it was still there and the drop from seat to beyond equally as impressive. More than 900 years old, Skipton Castle claims to be one of the best preserved castles in England. As an adult with the experience of many more cast...

Events of the past 20 months chez nous are rapidly drawing to a close albeit at an increasing pace. It reached a point in mid-January where we just couldn't take any more, so we uprooted to the Lake District along with all the family.  The day before we left, however, holiday vibes were destroyed by an email indicating that notice to terminate the rental of our temporary accommodation on 25th March was being served and that if we believed our own home was not yet ready for occupation we should contact the loss adjuster, who presumably had authorised the service of the notice in the first place. It was perhaps unfortunate that I only got round to checking my emails in the evening because the chances of rousing the loss adjuster on a Friday night were non-existent.  So off we toddled across the Pennines,  panicking in the knowledge that our home still had cut pipes all over the place, no floor, no heating source etc.. Then malaise set in: the weather was awful; cold, damp a...