A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

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 ...

Ever since new research at Kings College , London suggested that visiting art galleries is good for our health, I seem to keep stumbling across commentary on the findings from that study. It concluded that viewing original art could lower markers within the body for a wide range of inflammatory conditions including heart disease, diabetes, stress and depression.  As somebody who is predisposed to a number of inflammatory conditions, my interest was piqued. Already aware of the benefits of  immersing oneself in nature and of exercise, how wonderful if visiting exhibitions can be added to the list of preventative healthcare measures for adoption in retirement. Some of my best days out in the last decade have certainly involved admiring the creativity of others which I always find generates an inner emotional response. Potentially it now seems feasible that instead of planning a visit to a gallery as a cultural indulgence, we should look upon it as a prescription for the wel...

  I spent yesterday afternoon in my volunteer role as trustee of an almshouse. After reading an article on The Guardian website earlier in the week referring to research over the decades on the benefits of volunteering, I  could have felt very smug indeed or at least basked in the higher echelons of a score on a happiness and well-being chart.  It seems that helping others boosts our health in a variety of ways, but with one proviso, namely that you have to do it for solely altruistic reasons. If you do, however, body and brain are allegedly repaid in a multitude of ways including the easing of inflammation, the boosting of mental health, the building of resilience, feeling fitter and even living longer. One study also suggested that volunteering with three different organisations gives you an increased benefit. Darn, I may have been volunteering in three directions when I first retired but life has a habit of getting in the way and of course I've deliberately shed roles ...

   I've never been the kind of person to get excited by cosmetic trends encompassing anti-ageing products until the sudden appearance of lines on my face has recently had me wondering if I should perhaps be a little more aware. Don't get me wrong, Botox and chemical fillers, let alone nips and tucks, hold no appeal whatsoever but perhaps the idea of ageing gracefully does, certainly since those wrinkles suddenly started to appear. I was sure there had to be a reason for the abrupt materialisation of creases across my brow but the only one I could think of was that operation back in February 2022 when my ready supply of oestrogen was whipped away. At least that was my train of thought until recently when my attention was drawn to the results of a study which suggests that rather than ageing gradually the human body suffers two dramatic bursts of depletion at around 44 and again at 60. Okay, so those ages are history on my part but it does explain what feels like a sudden surg...

  Never before have I been so grateful to hear that one little word, "broken." For months now, witnessing the alarming increase in NHS waiting times and repeated examples of maladministration, I have had concerned discussions with friends where we have bemoaned the fact that just when we might be on the cusp of needing it the most, the NHS clearly cannot cope. Of course, those conversations have taken place against a backdrop of Tory propaganda telling us how many more hospitals have been built, staff recruited and additional spending deployed. In truth that £350 million a week promised on the Vote Leave battle bus has never been needed so much. Such a shame it was never ever going to be deliverable. Thank you, therefore, to the new Health Minister, Wes Streeting, for saying yesterday what we have all known for sometime: The NHS is broken. How refreshing to hear something that accords with public perception instead of the constant lies and slogans of the previous incumbents. ...

    Remember telegrams that arrived within the hour? What about first class post guaranteed to drop through the letterbox by 8am the next day in an era when there were actually two postal deliveries every morning? Are these memories that make me sound as though I've stepped out of antiquity or am instead posing as a stereotypical senior grumbler? I guess if I was half a century older, I might even recall the day when you could post a letter in the morning and it was delivered that afternoon. Too often in retirement, no longer caught up in the world of instant business communication and all the pressures that brings, I've had time to witness what seem to be retrospective steps when it comes to longstanding means for connectivity. After all, how reliable even is the telephone system now, with its digital service and voice over internet protocol? Today, however, I was impressed. There are some things that can match those memories of speedy dispatch and arrival. I speak of Amazon ...

In the news today are reports that Royal Mail, to help defray the losses it is making, wants to abolish postal deliveries on Saturdays. According to the BBC, the company is arguing that a delivery service created for 20 billion letters is not sustainable when it is only being required to deliver 7 billion.  I confess I still enjoy those rare occasions when I receive a handwritten letter and look back with nostalgia on the days of 2 deliveries a day, including one before I set off for work. Now, of course, we have e-mails and messaging services rendering the posting of correspondence almost obsolete. That said, I confess the sight of the post van in the street always arouses a surge of inner excitement.  Unfortunately it is invariably tempered by disappointment when we receive either nothing at all or a pile of junk mail that’s moved straight from floor to recycling bin. In the past week we had two such deliveries and I did actually sift through the first wondering if, a little...

  I know that across the world there are so many communities that through war, natural disasters or lack of funding for infrastructure are going without what we in the West regard as basic necessities. Contaminated water alone brings so much illness and disease. The statistics are appalling. According to Water Aid’s website,  almost 1 in 10 people globally do not have access locally to clean water. Back at Chez Nous, retired life has had some luxury restored to it with a temporary connection from the new water pipe to the house. After laboratory testing early in January, we are confident that the Do Not Drink Notice will be revoked. The best Christmas present ever! It would be wonderful if we could share it with those who will continue without but, in the absence of some truly miraculous Christmas magic, I guess a charity donation must suffice. In the meantime my best wishes too for your very own Happy Christmas.

  In a pique of organisation, I actually completed and submitted my tax return a few days ago. It avoided my usual rush before the 31st January deadline and is making me feel very smug indeed. Whilst accessing my online tax account, I thought I would take a peep at the National Insurance section and double-check that all is in order for payment of my state pension when I finally become entitled in a little over 4 months' time. Assurances by my financial advisor after I made a voluntary contribution at his suggestion and an official forecast several years ago suggested that I shall receive a full state pension at what has been an ever shifting qualification age.  I confess that I had never explored the record in much depth, relying instead on professional advice and the calculations undertaken by the government and sent to me by letter. With hindsight, I perhaps should have left things to rest there. However, when taking a glance (and breathing a sigh of relief that all still r...

   I have been put on notice that my name will shortly be removed from the Solicitors' Register  unless I pay the paltry sum of £20 to cover administrative charges incurred by the Regulatory Authority in complying with data protection requirements. Since I retired I have remained on the roll albeit in a non-practising capacity, although and until now no fee had been levied for the privilege. At £20 the sum is nominal but frankly is there any point if I love retirement so much that I have no intention of ever returning to practice?  Apparently, so long as my name is on the roll I have the benefit of being able to vote in Law Society elections, something I have never done since retiring. I can also make use of the Law Society's premises in Chancery Lane which I have actually visited in retirement, but only once. I will continue to receive regular professional updates and the online copy of the professsion's magazine. I'd be lying if I said I'd never glanced at them in...

  I know food inside packaging is shrinking as manufacturers try to convince us that the current round of price rises isn't as bad as we know it to be. But surely that shouldn't apply to books as well? "Brevity is the soul of wit," says Polonius in Shakespeare's Hamlet (an ironic point for a character who was somewhat verbose). Perhaps I'm just stumbling across particularly clever literature, but if a book length of 70 pages or so is gripping then, a little like the chocolates in the box on the supermarket shelf, I want more. Conversely if the writing is awful then you might think I've been relieved of the chore of turning too many pages. Since resolving not to stick with disappointing novels , whether it's a novella or trilogy I can, of course, just as easily ditch both at an early point. No, my complaint here is that for some curious reason the books I have been reading this year are much shorter than I had expected. I suppose that comes from taking ...

  A US study published in the British Journal of Sports Medicine attracted widespread coverage today. Whilst my Fitbit congratulates me for exceeding 150 minutes of moderate physical activity a week, it seems that this accolade now comes with the ringing endorsement that coupling 2.5 hours of moderate to vigorous physical exercise with muscle strengthening potentially extends life. That's good, as three times a week I combine a strength class with Zumba or HIIT, with swimmming and additional Pilates sessions thrown in for good measure. 150 minutes? Far, far more but then I am making up for lost time spent in an office or lounging on a sofa. Obviously I'd like to think that muscular and aerobic activity could be a prominent feature of the whole of my retirement but I'm not entirely convinced by the prospect of continuing this routine into my eighties or beyond. Endorphins or not, the idea of moving from zimmer frame to press-ups is strangely fascinating. A definite challeng...

   Pre-pandemic, Mister E and I never quite counted the Emirates' air-miles accumulated from travelling to and from New Zealand on two occasions . Indeed, we assumed that having failed to book any further flights they would have lapsed but a couple of months ago received emails suggesting we had only a limited time left to make a booking with them. Use them or lose them, was the moral of the tale. Of course, that sparked some interest, quickly turning to disappointment when we discovered that when it comes to rewards the equivalent of twice around the world even in business class doesn't stretch to a free flight to the nearest town (not that there are any airports but you appreciate my drift). Truth be told malaise set in and they would probably have disappeared without trace until Mister E discovered that they could be exchanged for hotel nights in the UK. Hence, courtesy of air miles, we have now had two nights away to coincide with Mister E's birthday. Better still we ha...

    Just when you think those in charge couldn't get more ridiculous, today we learn that a benefit of Brexit is that we might want to return to Imperial measurements instead of those nasty European metric ones. Curiously a map of the world circulating online suggests that apart from the USA, Myanmar and Liberia every other country is fairly content with counting in tens and thousands. I guess those of us who are retired represent pretty much the last generations to have struggled at school adding and subtracting in £sd, as well as memorising all those weird and wonderful weights and measures. Unsurprisingly there doesn't seem to be an abundance of enthusiasm for our great leadership's latest contribution to the transformation of the country into a complete and utter laughing stock. Mr Johnson may very much want to see a Crown on his glass every time he toasts a departing member of staff, but he has overlooked once again that the rest of us don't get to party quite as o...

  Following my return home, I hadn't expected to be hounded by NHS Test and Trace. However, since Monday afternoon I have received e-mails, text messages and yesterday a telephone call. They all essentially say the same thing: You have tested positive for Covid and must isolate! Now it's not exactly likely that somebody recuperating from abdominal surgery with the added complication of an emergency admission to hospital with heart issues, particularly wants to go out and party. I can't deny, however, that a short walk in the cold sunshine or a socially distanced visitor or two might go down a treat.  However, and with time on my hands (surprise!), I thought I'd best check the actual legislation for what appears to be an outrageous situation bearing in mind that the medical consensus is that I do not have Covid when the swab taken for the contemporaneous PCR test was negative. The Health Protection (Coronavirus, Restrictions) (Self-Isolation) (England) Regulations 2020 a...

  The first week of January can be a jolt back to the harsh world of reality, especially when you are working or have to return to school. Retirement is a little more gentle and I guess if we wanted to, we could keep up the Christmas partying (Covid aside) until the festive season comes all the way round again. Call me boring, if you wish, but I've slotted in some early morning fitness classes and have been back to the gym. After the guests, the food, the drink, the games, the conversation, it has been a most welcome return to routine. I'm not sure my muscles agree but there's a limit as to how long they can expect to be allowed to stagnate. This is after all retirement that I am exploring, not a sun lounger! Despite the grey skies and snowflakes today, I am feeling naturally happy and, dare I say it, optimistic! The days are getting longer and I can almost see without a light when I get up. At least I thought I could until I checked the thermometer on my way through the ha...

  Last week the media expressed an inexplicable degree of excitement in the findings of a study from Singapore that concluded housework increases cognitive function as well as physical health in the elderly. Darn, the justification for recruiting a home-help in retirement diminishes by the day. To  be fair, as we already know, exercise is good for you and housework, it seems, is just a little more of that, making up for any shortfalls in recreational activity. In fact on those rare occasions when I actually clean windows the Fitbit on my wrist automatically recognises it as swimming. The study, however, notes the meaningful nature of housework as a key component of daily living. As Mister E and I gambol through our dust strewn and untidy home in pursuit of more stimulating projects, could meaning be missing from our lives? Have the washing machine and vaccum cleaner released me to exercise in gym classes only to deprive me of purposeful and fulfilling action? I suspect not. ...

(Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images at Pixabay ) It's that time of year where our normal pattern in retirement had been to take a long distance trip to break up the winter and escape the dark nights. No such luck this year and just like 2020 it is beginning to feel as though we are once again adrift and floating lazily along. Of course if we really need the stimulation of travel, we could take a short trip here in the UK but with daylight hours reducing rapidly and the late autumnal weather as always unpredictable, it does not appeal. Instead, I am easing myself back to exercise classes with swimming and water aerobics, as well as Pilates and Yoga and snatching, so far as possible, a daily session in the garden trying to get everything to bed before the temperatures plummet below zero.  It's a strange November with nasturtiums, dianthus and pelargoniums still blooming not to mention tomatoes continuing to ripen in the unheated greenhouse. Meanwhile we are starting to see slight...

  (Image by messersrach from Pixabay) The results of a YouGov survey published last month demonstrated an intriguing difference between the generations when describing a forthcoming weekend. It seems that under 40's refer to it as "this weekend" and over 50's as "next weekend" with those between 40 and 50 being equally divided as to how best to define it. Whoever is it that dreams up these surveys? But, having done so, what on earth can be going on here, apart from the confusion? Despite falling into the older age bracket, it seems that I am in a minority of 50 pluses who would allude to "this weekend" when their contemporaries say "next weekend" instead. I'd like to think it's because I remain young at heart but it's probably that I'm so accustomed to making arrangements with my offspring that I adopt their language.  Is it actually the case that younger people, busy at work or with young families, see the weekend as wi...

  (Image by DeSa81 from Pixabay ) Recent reports of forest fires around the world have been distressing. Conflagrations that burn and burn have to be one of the worst human nightmares.  Closer to home, we have suffered our own blaze as the local television mast went up in flames yesterday depriving almost a million homes across the region of their radio and TV reception, "indefinitely" according to some reports. Obviously a Smart TV would be the answer but with the constraints on rural broadband I'm unsure how many people will be able to rely satisfactorily on this if everyone starts to stream at the same time. There are also many households (we being one of them) who don't even possess such technology although we do cast to our living room TV from a variety of other devices instead. Fortunately we are still at that stage of retirement where the television set is frequently silent as we find other diversions to distract and entertain us. Fast forward another 20 years...