A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

Tonight I attended a final committee meeting for a working group I have participated in for the last four years. The sessions are attended by generous natured and helpful individuals full of what can best be described as bonhomie. It is a wrench to say goodbye, knowing that I am unlikely to see many of them again.  Indeed it is on such occasions that one can't help having a sudden panic: am I actually doing the right thing, knowing that I am genuinely going to miss sessions like those? That said my fellow committee members expressed envy and a willingness to swap positions with me were I to give them the chance.  Perhaps it is actually a case of "the grass is always greener on the other side," or maybe I really am seizing an opportunity now that fellow colleagues are either unable or too scared to take themselves. Let's just hope it's not a great big conspiracy where they know something that I don't. There we are, self doubt creeps in on occasion

Yes, my optimism regarding Le Tour de France was well founded and I have now booked a pitch for our tent in a farmer's field above Hawes. It is in easy reach of the moderately steep walk up Buttertubs, which is, of course, nothing like as daunting as cycling up there.  The farmer replied to my e-mail to indicate that in order to try to please everyone he was making two fields available: a quiet one and another that is rapidly becoming known as "the party field." In response to his request that we  indicate which we prefer, I cowered away from the party crowd and opted for the quiet option. After all if I am to get up that hill on the morning of the race, I shall need to be up and out early. My youngest snorted in disgust when I told her. "A once in a lifetime occasion and you choose to spend it in your sleeping bag," she muttered, whilst reiterating that she will not be accompanying us. No doubt she will be seeking to take advantage of our absence by

A study by NEST ,  reported yesterday, gave an insight into how much money it takes to make people feel comfortable in retirement. It seems that with a pension income of £15,000 per annum most people in the UK feel content. Below that level and they struggle to pay bills, whilst interestingly above £40,000 per annum there is no additional happiness benefit.  I'm assuming that the simple moral of that research is that so long as you have sufficient income to avoid worrying about the basic necessities of life (a roof over your head, food and clothing), you then cut your cloth according to your means and can enjoy whatever excess you have. I'll soon find out.

Well how's that for esteemed company? Two famous sportsmen announced their own retirements today, meaning that in years to come I shall be able to say that I retired the same summer as Jonny Wilkinson and Ryan Giggs .

Aficionados of either cycling or Yorkshire will know that Le Tour de France starts in Yorkshire this year on 5th July.  Today Mister E and I drove the route of Stage 1 and agreed that one of our first retirement exploits should be trying to watch this event at Buttertubs  between Wensleydale and Swaledale. Wherever we stay this is going to involve a long uphill walk, Buttertubs being one of the remotest part of the Yorkshire Dales National Park. On the basis that every hotel and guest house in the vicinity has been booked up for at least 12 months, we have looked into the feasibility of driving there on the day. However the road over Buttertubs is closing at 18.00 hours the night before and into the Dales at 7 am on the day. The idea of being gridlocked trying to get into the National Park at 5am holds no allure, so instead we have turned our heads to the potential for camping. We are guessing that established campsites will have been booked for months too, but I have fi

I guess one of the things about getting older is that you begin to realise that your body does creak from time to time and that you perhaps haven't always treated is as a temple in the way that you ought to have done. Indeed "guilty by neglect" is an obvious turn of phrase for those who, like me, struggle to put a face, let alone a name, to their doctor. Whilst I like to think that my working life has equated pretty much to 100% fit and healthy, there are still those worrying niggles and in my case the elephant in the room, as they say these days, has been a long-term skin condition exacerbated by stress.  I am determined to get that under control to ensure that I can enjoy retirement to its full and with that in mind saw a Consultant Dermatologist yesterday thinking that whatever quick fix might be prescribed, I could put it off and then embrace fully when I cease work. No such luck, taking the medication begins now (or rather next week when the result of bloo

Well I am on a bit of a roll at the moment. Time is flying quickly and with only 18 days left to work until retirement hits, I am working like crazy. Of course now that clients are aware that my professional life is about to complete, they all suddenly have an urgent need to see me.  "You'll be bored," one suggested whilst another reckons that I'll wonder how I ever had the time to work.  I've even had one client invite me to join her Retirees' 4 or More Club where they meet for lunch and talk about their grown-up children. It seems, however, that the 4 stands for the number of children you have before joining this highly selective group, so I didn't qualify. I wonder what it was about me that gave the impression I had four children? The haggard look and fatigue that actually derive from years of work without a proper break perhaps.