I finally sat down and worked out my leaving date. I have six full days and two half days to go. It’s still slightly flexible as one of the others has to go to a funeral and I might be doing an extra day to provide cover. It’s a relief to get it sorted.

This week I work as normal (if a 3 1/2 day week is “normal”), the week after I do a normal week but swap days to work Monday, which allows me to go for my Urology consultation on Tuesday. That is going to require my best underwear and a stiff upper lip. Then The week after, I will do one or two days, depending on the need for cover and the rest is holiday.

I will lead a modest existence in retirement, but it won’t actually be a step down from my current wages, with the added benefit that I don’t have to do anything to get paid.

Julia, Sutton-on-Sea

To be honest, my poor pension planning has been a matter of regret over the last few years, as has my lack of career planning, and the general wasteland that is my life in retrospect. Still, it’s too late to worry now so I’m going to concentrate on enjoying what remains.

It seems that when I move I will have to have a new rheumatology consultation, and will have to arrange for a bulk lot of pills, because the new practice won’t prescribe any until I’ve been seen by a specialist. As we have seen in the past, a few weeks off the pills leads to crippling disability for months, so I’m not keen on that. I had naively thought the prescription would just carry on. So much for the concept of health care being national.

So, with one set of problems resolved, another set heaves into view, and  life’s rich pageant rolls on in all it’s lumpy glory.

Julia – looking sophisticated in Bakewell

It is, of course, possible that regular readers may have seen my photos before and assumed I was already retired. Julia says it isn’t going to be easy to tell when I stop work . . .