A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  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...

  There's a certain sense of déjà vu at present. The moment the current incumbent of the office of Prime Minister stands before a lectern and tells us that we won't be locked down for Christmas, you inevitably fear the worst.  When he tells you to work from home (I always do in my minimal role as Parish Clerk) but still go to the office party (there are no other employees to party with), you know you are probably going to be in trouble. When he urges the whole country to join "a great national fight back" against Omicron and to "carry on giving it both barrels" by queuing up for a booster vaccination (fortunately we had ours several weeks ago) and by testing constantly, you can't help wishing a serious adult rather than somebody who apparently thinks visiting Peppa Pig World is a great way to spend the day, was in charge. It was left to the Chief Medical Officer to pick up the pieces and recommend that sensibly we should prioritise our social contacts an...

   Sort Your Life Out is the name of a television programme, an episode of which is being transmitted this evening. It's not what you would describe as riveting viewing. Indeed there's a definite sameness about each instalment when Stacey Solomon and a team of decluttering/organisation experts help overwhelmed households empty the contents of their homes into a giant warehouse where they reduce their possessions by at least 50% before restoring those they retain into some kind of order within their property.  My digital TV Guide gives it an excellence score of only 1.2 out of 10 which is probably about right. As somebody who continues to make slow but steady progress in reducing her own collection of stuff, I confess that I still find watching it a little compulsive. Moreover that is despite the fact that I haven't even picked up any good tips or ideas. What it does, however, apart from feed the voyeur within, is offer comfort in droves. I now take solace from the knowled...

  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 ccipeggy at Pixabay ) No wedding march as I ventured down the aisle this morning. Instead I was following directions: straight ahead past the cornflakes and weetabix. Trouble was that aisle was busy, so in my case it was a left turn after the canned tuna and baked beans. The lengths some of us will go because, regardless of Storm Arwen, I was determined to get there. It wasn't an easy journey either with 2 fallen trees across the long lane that leads from the village to the main road and then, after leaving my car at my mother's home, a walk of over two thirds of a mile into horizontal sleet, the wind gusting around me.  Trying to be positive, it was a fantastic opportunity to put all my foul weather gear to the test and at least on the return leg the wind was with me. And the reason for putting myself at the mercy of the elements and a Saturday morning at the local superstore? Well it wasn't to buy coco pops, I can assure you! No, it seems all those COVID vac...

  There's nothing like a day out to boost the mood. When your destination is an unknown quantity that you have never visited before, it provides both stimulation and reinvigoration. The problem at the moment can be persuading yourself to enter potentially crowded places. However, on the basis that so many people are thinking likewise or sheltering from the cold, frequently a place that would normally be teeming with people can, contrary to all expectations, be deserted. So yesterday found me travelling again by train, this time to meet up with a friend for a visit to the Bankfield Museum in Halifax where an art exhibition by Kate Lycett had been recommended to us. Her paintings were an interesting mixture of  golden threads, geometric patterns, and landscape in an architectural style. I confess that after admiring her work, I subsequently wasn't surprised to discover that she had been influenced by an architect originally and had also specialised in textiles. The colours were...

  Say what you like but you don't properly appreciate the change from  autumn to winter until you are retired. I know when working there are the horrors of a commute through snow and ice on occasions, whilst retirement affords the opportunity to huddle indoors and avoid the harshness of the conditions outside. However, it is in retirement that there is the time to observe what's happening outdoors as the leaves change colour and fall to the ground, and also to participate actively in the transition from one season to the next. It's certainly not the role of a calm observer either. This week, conscious of a forecast which translates into winter beginning tomorrow with plummeting temperatures and no obvious recovery for the forseeable, Mister E and I have been in a mad rush to batten the proverbial hatches.  The garden has been put to bed with the sunken vegetable beds tucked up in weed suppression fabric and the containers with tender plants moved into the greenhouse. Shru...