A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  School pupils returned to their desks last week after the long summer break. I did likewise, having impetuously signed up for a course on Health and Nutrition a few weeks ago. My second assignment was due yesterday and what with our trip to the Lake District and other commitments, it was looking touch and go as to whether I would actually complete it by the deadline set. Needless to say, I took advantage of the appalling weather outside to hunker down at the computer and get on with it.  Save for refreshment breaks, I was there for 12 long hours although I confess that most of the time I was captivated by both the topics covered and the challenge of the task.  I haven't undertaken any formal learning in retirement so it's all been something of a novelty. That said, yesterday I inevitably found myself comparing my situation to the world of work which must have been the last place I spent that amount of time at a desk. It was perhaps a shame that the very nature of the course w

  We returned yesterday from one of our regular trips to the Langdale Valley in the Lake District. Oh my, how it rained during our week long stay; torrentially, for days or so it seemed. It started an hour or so after we arrived late on Saturday afternoon and then continued almost unabated until Thursday when we had intermittent showers. Sunshine finally arrived on Friday when we were at last able to leave waterproofs on the peg and don T-shirts instead. Years ago, when I was working and holidays were a precious resource, a week's drenching of that magnitude would have been viewed as a vacation disaster. Even in retirement and until recently, I might have viewed it with severe disappointment. These days, less so. Living temporarily as we are on an urban housing estate, plunging ourselves into the joys of woodland living, overlooking a roaring beck with a backdrop of fells (we couldn't see anything higher for the low cloud), was an absolute delight regardless of the tempest arou

  Well I never! Several years ago I changed the background and layout of this blog and in so doing and for no obvious reason lost the ability to reply to specific comments. Ever since, I've been obliged instead simply to make my own comment in response. Today and as a consequence of circumstances of which I profess no knowledge, my right to comment has suddenly returned. I know that as we get older, we are supposed to become more set in our ways and dislike change, but this is one alteration I certainly approve of and long may it last. Whilst referring to change, a main topic of discussion at the gym this morning was inevitably the weather. There was a general concurrence that this week we appear to be edging noticeably towards autumn. Now that's a change I honestly don't like too much, especially when we waited so long for summer sunshine to make an appearance this year. Of course August is rushing by, the nights are definitely getting darker sooner and before we know it,

  My vegetable patch has been notably absent from this blog and indeed my life this summer. Before we vacated our home, I planted potatoes and onions and then left it. Forays back to the garden have been made only to harvest new potatoes and shallots as well as from the fruit trees. Sadly whilst the trees are doing us proud, mainly because of the lack of wasps this year, the harvest from the ground has so far proved disappointing. It demonstrates, I suppose, that my regular presence is indeed required to administer tender loving care in the form of a watering can and fertiliser, as needed. That said, and however much I enjoy gardening, it has been a boon not to feel tied down in the servitude of peas and cabbages. So much so, that I have now even been devising plans for next years vegetable beds which might see two or three of them taken out of action. I have a feeling that displays of colourful blooms amongst the edible crops might be easier on the back, require less man hours to cult

   I spent last weekend in a one man tent at the World Yoga Festival on the showground at Henley on Thames. I confess I've never been to a festival before but on the basis that meat, never mind alcohol, was strictly forbidden I knew it would avoid the excesses that the Youngest has described to me from her own experiences at Glastonbury and beyond.  All chanting and drumming stopped by 11pm; the weather was wonderful; the ladies I went with were great company; I was exhausted from all the Yoga classes and other activities; my appetite was sated from the vegan food stalls. Regardless, I slept terribly! Maybe it was that hard bump on the ground beneath my sleeping bag but I'm convinced camping gets harder as you age.  Why put myself through the hardship? It's another dimension to my exploration of Planet Retirement and that quest for the holy grail which if it's not the meaning of life must at least be the route to its fulfilment.  When I first entered retirement, burn ou

  Disoriented and confused; is that how travelling is meant to make us feel? It's not jetlag, when Portugal is in the same time zone as the UK and the Azores are only an hour behind. Rather, after extending both our trips with sojourns with the family to maximise time with Grandotty, I reckon that we probably only spent 5 nights at home (correction: in the rented premises) in the course of a month. Coming back now to a house where I thought we had everything sorted and at hand, I've realised that the period of time away was sufficient to totally flummox me when it comes to identifying where anything might be. Is it here and, if so where? If it is being stored, just where exactly?  Goodness, I couldn't even remember the postcode  for the property and had to look it up. Today Mister E was certain that he'd brought head torches to have to hand at the rental; think boy scout mode for power cuts. Ultimately we established that they hadn't made the journey with us, but at

  Our final stop and the fourth out of the nine islands that make up the Azores was Terceira. We based ourselves in Angra do Heroismo, the most important city in the Azores historically and with a certain period charm and grace that we had not identified on our other stops.  All of the islands have their own individual characteristics and just when you think that you cannot imagine there being anything unique on another trip to view volcanic craters, you are proved wrong. This time, I actually entered a inside a dormant volcano vent and even ventured through ancient lava tunnels. The celebrations for the Festival of the Holy Spirit continued here too but unlike the parades in Ponta Delgada , we encountered White Night when everyone wore white and a band played in the town square.  Terceira is also known for its bull fighting and running where the bull remains tethered to a long rope and is not killed. Although there were instances of both taking place during our visit, we did not seek