A Retirement Blog by Caree Risover

  We can all go through life attacking imaginary enemies if we so choose. Don Quixote tilted at windmills, but I dare say today he'd have equally mistaken a row of pylons for evil giants.  In retirement my choice has been to avoid conflict, as I try to negotiate my way to a place of calm and stress-free Karma. Unfortunately in recent weeks, it has not been so easy.  There is one chance for the floors  of our home to be reinstated properly. We have no confidence that the insurance company's contractors can deliver. Would you employ a crew used to digging holes and trenches to put everything back together again with the finesse of a master housebuilder? We are understandably running scared. Work has ground to a halt and having sought expert advice have been left even more concerned. It's just like being back at work, waking in the middle of the night to confront the worries of the next day. Even then, I doubt I ever dreamt about filling in floors nor planned conversati...

  It was my third morning back at the gym today. Apart from forgetting my trainer shoes (again!), I confess to being modestly proud to have survived unscathed. So far there are no screaming muscles, my joints aren't stiff and I'm ready to do it all again tomorrow (trainer shoes packed in readiness). Conscious of  fast approaching the era for physical decline, yesterday I found my attention online diverted to a somewhat old study on the benefit of being able to sit down onto the floor and then stand up again without using your hands. I surprised myself by being able to do this relatively comfortably. That's just as well, because the study from more than a decade ago suggests that failure gave a seven times greater likelihood of dying within six years. On the one hand that could suggest that this blog might be around for a while yet. On the other, and on the basis that I'm pretty sure I probably couldn't do that in the early days of retirement not to mention during th...

  Could the nightmare finally be over? Not the one about the house as sadly that's destined to continue for a while yet, but perhaps the other one involving my car.  It didn't feel like that at the weekend. After picking the car up on Thursday evening, complete with all kinds of new parts, it drove just like a dream. Well, for all of 3 miles anyway. Then the nightmare began again as the inside became flooded by petrol vapour. There were profuse apologies yesterday when the garage checked it over and conceded that the mechanic had inadvertently nicked the seal on a hose causing a vapour leak. They sorted it as a matter of priority and thankfully I am fully mobile once again. I was straight back to the gym and a weights class this morning. Talk about being out of practice. The weights were fine, but I forgot my trainer shoes and water bottle! All part of retirement's rich tapestry of incompetence and brain fog, or perhaps, after reducing life to walking pace, speeding it up a...

  Back on 20th October, I posted an entry here referring to my broken house, my broken car and mused over whether I could be broken too.  By way of update, garage number one was unable to fix my car and in desperation I took it to the specialists at garage number two. They assure me they know what's wrong and a day's minor surgery should have Miss Scarlet back on the road again. Of course bad news followed the good in the form of the quotation. I'm not yet broken, but I shall be broke!  

  It must be a month ago now that houses around us suddenly began to be decked out with arrays of  pumpkins, cobwebs and spiders. The most amazing thing was that this decoration took place almost entirely during the hours of darkness, so we would awake on a morning to the sight of yet another house embellished by attempted creepiness. It's all been something of a change to the relatively staid, mundane and unornamented surroundings of October in our home village, all no doubt a reflection on the contrasting demographics of the suburban outskirts where we are temporarily residing and of rural hamlets. Last week we played host to Grandotty and parents, meaning that our age statistics were more in keeping with the rest of the street. Needless to say Grandotty revelled in constant walks to see the spiders.  "Spider! Quick, quick! Run, run!" became a constant refrain. I swear I've never enjoyed (or perhaps even noticed) the run up to Halloween before. That's the great ...

  Yes, the house is broken but it is supposed to be being put back together. Except, when we last visited, somebody had decided that it would be a good idea to relay patio pavers at a noticeably higher level than those that had not been uprooted. It's not that I'm opposed to terracing but not across the patio please. So now there's another job to redo and so possibly delay our return still further. You really can't make this stuff up. It's tempting fate to ask to be given a break, but that's exactly what I did get last week, except this time it's the car that's now broken too. My fault for hanging onto it too long, I suppose. I had thought I'd try to embrace the whole retirement ethos of driving around in an old vehicle, being unable to decide what exactly to upgrade it for, especially now we appear to be entering the sunset stage of fossil fuel driven vehicles. It was a silly move based on the idea that, whilst I'd always needed a reliable car ...

   It sounded a little too good to be true when we received an email at the beginning of the week from the remediation company contracted by the insurers, suggesting that we could feasibly be back in our home by Christmas. The day dreaming began and the pace of work in the rooms upstairs that we are decorating quickened. Little by little, however, we realised the serious pitfalls of such a situation, not least because notice to terminate the lease on our temporary accommodation would need to be given this month with no certainty that we would actually be able to return as indicated. Corners would need to be cut and/or we would be returning to somewhere only half finished with no prospect of entertaining family over the Christmas holidays.  Then nightmare of nightmares, because the tenancy end date would actually be 25th December, I had visions of cleaning and clearing two houses at the point when most people might be sitting back, slippers on, waiting for Santa Claus to p...