A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  Last week I visited the optician's for the first time in 3 years, after the pandemic intervened to interrupt my normal pattern of biennial eye tests. I was a little concerned that having broken the spectacles that I used for driving in my fall, I was not seeing as well as I should through my back-up pair. Had the fall affected my vision long-term or was it a case of age related deterioration that's inevitably par for the course in retirement? Gracious, it turns out that my eyes actually see distances much better now than a few years ago. Perhaps I should have realised when I jettisoned spectacle-use for watching television and for driving have preferred to wear the older glasses from a prescription many years ago, following my last eye test when I was told that my eyesight was closer to that prescription than the one two years before. The optician offered a number of explanations: it could be that my eyes are going through a cross-over period between long and short sightedn

 I don't know how everyone else manages but there are occasions when I just find retirement so exhausting. Take travel for instance: following the trip to Lincolnshire, Northamptonshire and Rutland we had a 2 night sojourn before making a 6 hour dash by road up to Oban to prepare the retirement project for lifting-out ready for winter onshore.  We followed two nights there with a long drive home for a pit stop before setting off next morning to explore parts of Yorkshire that we are less familiar with, staying over in Ilkley and then venturing to Saltaire the next day. The Rivers Wharfe and Aire may not be quite up to David Livingstone standards but exploration and discovery enliven even when they are just round the corner, so to speak. Salts Mill and the village surrounding it were particularly fascinating and lived up to their designation by UNESCO as a World Heritage site. Visiting so many places in such a short period of time, however, might get the blood and energy flowing b

   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

The Queen is dead, long live the King and 10 days of national mourning are not traditions that many of us will have experienced before. Driving to Lincolnshire on Thursday, it was obvious from the constant radio reports pertaining to the Queen's health that all was not as it should be. We were spending the night in Stamford, a town renowned for its number of mediaeval churches. Returning to our hotel room after a long stroll around the streets, there was no update and then suddenly a single church bell began its sombre chime. We made the association almost immediately although it was moments later before there was confirmation on the BBC of the sad passing of Queen Elizabeth II. How strange but how poignant that in 21st century Britain we still learnt of the demise of the monarch from the tolling of a bell rather than technology. Of course, some are now questioning whether the national response is an over-reaction for modern times. With the exception of those over 70, none of us ha

Mister E and I have concluded that it is time to get some serious travelling underway again. When the pandemic struck we had just embarked on the start of our ambitious plan to visit every EU member country before the transition period for Brexit ended; the Adieu Tour, as we named it, however, came to an abrupt end with only Cyprus under our belts. Perhaps it's time to resurrect the idea with a Missing EU series of trips. Of course before we can organise anything there's the tricky issue of travel insurance. We let our annual policy lapse as a consequence of the restrictions on travel over the last couple of years and investigating a replacement has proved something of a shock. It seems all those hospital visits earlier this year have done me no favours. I may have been given a clear bill of health so far as the heart is concerned but that emergency admission coupled with the discovery of a gallstone after one single uncomfortable episode, have upped the premium to eye-waterin

  Returning from a week away we have been welcomed by an abundance. Unfortunately not all abundances are welcome equally.     The fruit and vegetables were appreciated, less so the multitude of wasps helping themselves to the profusion of apples and plums. Then, of course, there was the big job of watering everything, although luckily there had been some rain during our absence and the water butts were brimming once again. Where, however, have all those cats suddenly appeared from? It seems they've taken advantage of our being away to add the garden to their territorial claims. Talk about an invasion; the battle to regain our land and expel unwanted visitors has begun. Finally there was the mountain of work (a dirty word in retirement). It wasn't just fruit picking for which I had to don leather gloves to protect against buzzing insect life but also, now that the temperature has cooled, the pressure is on to complete our current unfinished project of  restoring the rear patio

  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 ami