A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  In my blogpost on September 8th , I described the challenge of undertaking an online course in Health and Nutrition. I am pleased to report that the final assignment was completed and submitted on Friday. Whilst I did my best to spread the workload over the time allowed, there was so much to complete that I still felt under pressure and far removed from the carefree retirement state I now consider normality. On the plus side, it felt like a new experience and I do feel far more knowledgeable than previously; I also appreciate the practical implications of what I have learnt and am already conscious of making changes as a result. However, I would like to think that even wild horses will not drag me back to the classroom. I do so much prefer the stimulation of active practical learning and creativity. So it was that during September I also undertook the restoration of an old Ercol rocking chair that my grandmother had given me when I was only a toddler. It was a dark, stained finis...

  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 f...

  Yesterday I had one of my regular monthly meet-ups with a very dear friend. In the summer months, we normally include a long walk in our itinerary; in the winter we tend to fequent museums and art galleries. There was no mistaking what time of year it was on this occasion, not least when we had a mince pie each with our coffee. I set off in the dark and returned in the dark, there was a definite chill to the air and the trains I used to reach our rendezvous were crowded with Christmas shoppers and charity fund raisers dressed as elves! It is often said that, in the words of TS Eliot, "The journey, not the destination matters." In so far as I enjoyed the thrill of the train ride, I agree. I used a newly downloaded app to be guided to the correct platform for train changes and daringly managed the whole trip with only digital barcodes on my phone; both novel experiences for this retired traveller who normally likes to err on the side of caution with everything printed out in ...

  Hunkering down from the wintry weather, I've picked up a piece of embroidery that I must have begun over twenty years ago, possibly just after the youngest was born. I have a vague recollection of working on it again upon the birth of a niece or nephew but essentially it has lain untouched in a drawer for two decades. Memory plays tricks, so when I saw it there I was convinced that it was almost complete, only to unfold it and discover quite the contrary. On the basis that I'm always up for a challenge in retirement and there's nothing to entice me to venture out this weekend, I decided to concentrate on endeavouring, at long last, to finish it. Clearly you don't call it cross-stitch for nothing. In fact I'd go so far as to say you don't call it cross stitch because of its shape and intersecting lines. Rather the name must surely derive from the vexing nature of pushing needle through cotton and back at the exact points required by the pattern and all the whil...

  Somebody recently told me that they'd enjoyed modelling, participating as a favour at a charitable event for the first time this summer. Handbags, sunglasses and high heels with quick changes in between each outfit. In retirement I'm keen to try many things but I'm definitely not glamorous enough to ever consider stepping onto a catwalk, so felt in no way tempted to give it a go. Earlier in the month , however, I referred to my need for active diversions to the ongoing headache caused by the oil leak. Last week, I too found it in modelling. In my case, however, it was of the clay variety when I signed up for a Highland Cow Sculpting workshop. Didn't I just love it. A far cry from the plasticine of my childhood, clay is altogether more malleable if somewhat messier too. I even got to play with an extruder in order to create all that long hair. My piece has now gone to be fired and although there's every probability that it will have crumbled before we're reunit...

  I'm not sure why but I do love my garden. However, toiling for hours to produce fresh produce just at the time it is widely available in the shops and consequently relatively cheap, surely requires some explanation. I think it is that mixture of nature and nurture, not in the sense of the great psychology debate but from the perspective of getting up close and dirty with the first, whilst deriving pleasure and reward from the actual process of rearing all those seedlings and cuttings. Experimentation and creativity abound; the economics of production are irrelevant. However, there is no doubt that it can be back-breaking and tiring. Since retiring, I have concentrated on trying to reduce some of the more physical aspects of digging and weeding. Consequently, I now have a system for adding compost and turning the soil immediately each bed has been harvested, covering it with a weed suppression fabric until it is time for planting again. In the flowerbeds too, I have begun to use b...

  Here in the north of the country we are suffering from a typically miserable (weather-wise) Bank Holiday weekend. Temperatures have struggled to make even double digits and it has rained almost continuously. Pretty much what I was trained to expect whilst working but, despite the flexibility that retirement brings, when you are conscious as to how far behind the garden is this season, it is potentially frustrating all the same. Moreover, I say that as somebody who, in retirement, claims not to "do frustration." Mid week it was a very different picture, the sun shone brightly, we had blue sky and although it was certainly not warm, it brought spring into the step as well as confirmation of the season. I've spent all winter looking forward to such days. They certainly impact upon behaviour as the need to nest-build and declutter strikes. This last fortnight we've been seriously affected, deciding to redecorate our bedroom from floor to ceiling. Is it just me or do ste...

Tax avoidance seems to be in vogue at the moment, certainly in certain quarters of elite society. Not to be outdone and since my last blog entry, I have: Participated in 5 Pilates, 6 Yoga, 2 Strength, 2 Abs, 3 HIIT and 2 Zumba classes; Been swimming twice; Met friends for lunch on 3 occasions; Prepared for and clerked a Parish Council meeting, typing up the minutes afterwards; Met a friend for a walk along the escarpment at the edge of the North Yorkshire Moors; Spent a week staying and walking in the Langdale Valley in the Lake District; Met up with my Sketchbook Group; Knitted a baby blanket and a couple of new born size hats; Kept up my regular visits to Mum; Read 2 books and started to follow various TV series (the latter is a complete novelty for me); Attended a meeting and to administration as a charity trustee; Acquired a steam carpet cleaner and set it to use throughout the house somewhat vigorously; Talked to all and sundry on the phone and face to face; Started a big clear ou...

  2023, can you believe it?  As someone who can't get her head around the fact that 1983 was actually 40 years ago, it's difficult! Yesterday I was reviewing 2022. Not the greatest of years, but at least life started to move apace again, after what felt like two years of treading water and stagnation. Today I am contemplating the 12 months that stretch ahead. There was a time when I used to make resolutions. I imagine like most people they went through a stage of encompassing losing weight and meeting up more. That certainly hasn't been the case in retirement where by 2017 they had become, shall we say, a little less tangible and orienting towards well-being and life-style principles. The following year, however, I opted instead to challenge myself by setting specific, measurable targets but in 2019 felt myself adopting an aura of retired contentment and living in the moment which didn't seem to necessitate any specific promises to myself or undertakings. Perhaps I'...

  New Year's Eve, a night for reflection when, as you may have gathered from my blog post here yesterday I am hardly in the party mood; instead I am full of cold and sick of people! Well the latter isn't qute true but you get my drift. Once upon a time when I was relatively young, staying in at New Year would have resulted in the initiation of a full medical examination. These days I don't even suffer from that relatively new disease known as the Fear of Missing Out. In fact, looking at posts by friends on my Facebook Timeline not to mention WhatsApp messages, staying in could even be the new normal. It seems I have reached the age when people wish you a Happy New Year at 8pm before disappearing to bed with a good book and a yawn. That's retired living for you; a few days of merriment at Christmas and it's enough partying for the rest of the year. Before I jump on the bandwagon and head up the stairs myself, I thought I really should take a moment to reflect on 202...

  Over the years I have adopted the habit of reading the Booker prize short-list. As a consequence I often find myself immersed in a tremendous book.  Long reservation times at the library mean that I am still waiting for some of the novels that were so accoladed this year to become available. To date, however, I can only express my disappointment, especially as the last specimen took me 3 weeks of hard graft and dedication to complete. I confess, tholokuti (is that enough to tell you which book it was?), I could easily have been persuaded to cease reading it altogether except, without skipping to the final page and despite it being an allegory and political satire where I surely knew the ending, I did want confirmation of what happened next. I was inevitably disappointed by my chore of endurance. In fact, I almost convinced myself that I had just forgotten how to enjoy a book when my usual pattern is to become so absorbed that I complete any novel within 2 to 3 sessions and t...

  It was the privilege of monarchs to tour the country with a train of horses and carriages as the whole court moved with them. By the 17th century the aristocracy had developed a social season, spending April to June in London and then transferring their households back to their country estates. Having just returned from the Lake District where we stay in the same accommodation for a week in winter and a week in summer, it struck me that we are indulging in a somewhat elitist tradition in the style of the landed gentry from centuries past. We may not have any servants to bring along but we invariably end up taking any number of items from our kitchen and the intention is always to be joined by and entertain guests. After years of this routine, rather than a holiday it really does feel like we are making a procession across the Pennines moving from home to home. Fortunately there are no ball gowns to fit into or corsets to be tied. The lodge we stay in nestles by the side of a beck...

  Dilly's Mum has just had her first book, The Secret of Elephants, published. It was released yesterday and I completed reading it earlier this evening. Now I am not one to include book reviews in my blog but on this occasion, let me just say that the intrigue of the plot held my attention sufficiently that I was compelled to read it from start to finish as quickly as possible, allowing only for my other commitments. The story gives an insight into a multi-generational family divided between India and Zimbabwe but united by their joint heritage. Whilst we are given a true flavour of Indian culture it is tinged too with the impact of global westernisation and for the reader a subtle insight that humankind whether it be in Asia, Africa or Europe shares so much in common.  I know that the author is in the process of completing her second novel and also that to do so has required hardwork, time and diligence in order to meet deadlines set by her publisher. All that whilst still p...

  It's never good to be taken for a fool but that's what happened to me this morning. Like a significant percentage of the global population I have become a Wordle addict and exchange results and methodology with the youngest daily. To be fair, we only started to do this in the early days of my recuperation but it has nevertheless now become a breakfast time habit.  This morning, in light of the lack of letters revealed by my starting word and follow up, I was seriously proud of myself for cracking the puzzle in three rows. At best I thought the youngest might have equalled the score but no, she proclaimed herself a victor with her opening guess. Of course, I was amazed; not so much at any skill or ingenuity (that only arises when one of us solves it in two) but at the sheer fluke that must have occurred in predicting exactly the same word as an algorithm. "You're not just in tune with that algorithm, you are it," I told her in our exchange of messages, graciously...

 

  I came across something not so long ago (not that I can find it now) that suggested one of the ways to keep oneself happy and alert at Christmastime in retirement is to embrace new traditions. Something of an oxymoron there I thought, as I pondered on all those nostalgic rituals of Christmas past and thought no more about it. Buried in the recesses of my mind, however, here we are a matter of days before Christmas and I keep coming across novel experiences for this time of year and suddenly find myself contemplating whether or not they should be adopted for the future. To be fair most of it I certainly don't want to repeat. Like this morning when I took the youngest to a walk-in vaccine centre back at the local auction house in Leyburn. Nothing Christmassy there, you might think but we wandered into their cafe afterwards for coffee and mince pies. It must have been the list of events on the glossy page left on the table that inspired me; film showings, festive teas, speciality au...

  Sunday was a beautiful day. Looking at the forecast, it could well have been the last summer's day as winter fast approaches. What better way to spend it though, than on the patio eating lunch outside with friends. In contrast the weather yesterday morning was demented, with the rain falling in torrents. At least I'd had the forethought to check the likely conditions a couple of days ago and a rendezvous with an old friend was hastily altered from a day walking in the countryside together to a trip to York. With the media's non-stop reporting of petrol shortages (1st world post Brexit problems that you seriously can't make up), it seemed better to travel by train. It appears that these days the Transpennine Express actually lives up to its name. Gone are the abysmal two carriages pulled by a diesel engine that I recall from those pre-Covid days and instead a five carriage high-speed train now dashes down the East Coast mainline. A day out by rail; normality really is ...

    ( Image by pasja1000 from Pixabay ) It was with some amusement that I learnt Abba is not only releasing an album but will also be undertaking a series of live shows in London next year. That's not bad for a group now in its seventies that hasn't performed together for almost 40 years. Except, they won't be appearing in those live shows themselves but in virtual form with digital versions of the group members as they once were.  I'm not sure I'd like to be reproduced on stage as I was in the seventies, unless there's some kind of bonus that arises from being able to dance in platform shoes. However, you have to admit that it's a somewhat novel way of maintaining your youthfulness and I suppose demonstrates the next and inevitable step from video to hologram and beyond. Perhaps we will all one day spend our later years entertaining in virtual form, letting our avatars do the hardwork whilst we sit back and enjoy retirement. Incredible as that may seem, at...