Tag Archives: moving

Grrrr . . .

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Garden Flowers

I ordered a microwave today. We have been  without one for quite a while but first we couldn’t agree on what we wanted and then we decided we may as well wait until we moved. Then I went ahead and ordered the one I wanted. Julia didn’t see why I wanted a combi with microwave, grill and oven. I know why I want one – they are useful and convenient and avoid heating up an oven that is too large. She forgets there are only two of us now. She wanted an air fryer. They are probably OK, but they are possibly the new bread maker. You may all use these things regularly, but we don’t. I don’t remember the last time we used the bread maker. However, as the new microwave can air fry we now have something for everyone. If it works well, I will be a hero. If it doesn’t . . .

Do you know how difficult it is to get things delivered? They all advertise free delivery, but what they don’t tell you is that if you want anything other than a long wait and a very imprecise date (they won’t always even tell you an exact day) you have to pay. I am paying £9.99 to have the microwave delivered. That’s £5.99 to have it on a certain day, and £4 extra to specify an afternoon delivery. I could leave it to chance, but it’s easier to put some shape in the day. I won’t know when the Dunelm delivery is coming until the day before, but at least I know roughly when the other delivery is arriving.

Garden Flowers

I’m still lurking round the Dunelm website waiting for them to open the window that allows me to order something for Thursday delivery, when I can order the ottoman/footstools. Is the plural of ottoman ottomans or ottomen? It’s a tricky plural. Maybe I should just order one.

Meanwhile, I tried to order a new freezer. I can have one this week, but Wednesday, Friday or Saturday. Neither day is much use as I have things to do and want everything on Thursday.

Meanwhile the solicitor emailed. She has had the money and asks if I am happy with completion on Thursday. Why would I be? The whole mad rush has been to get it done before the Budget on Wednesday, as the new tax rules are likely to add an extra cost to the transaction.  The solicitor, when my sister pointed this out, said that she hadn’t realised this was the intention. I’m seriously concerned that we have used a lawyer with a very poor grasp of current affairs. At least if we can get the sale completed the worrying bit is done. Fingers crossed.

I’m hoping the rest will be easy.

Yellow flowers in need of identification

 

Plans and Problems

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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 . . .

 

Poppies and the end of the beginning

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The poppy project is starting to take shape. Apart from that, it’s been a strange day – D minus 47, or minus 13 if you count days we will actually meet.

Fortunately the group is taking it well, with a few mutterings about farmers and plenty of discussion about what they are going to replace us with. It’s a little sad to be so easily replaced but that’s just how it is. In another way, I was thinking that it’s good that we have taken them to this point and they feel happy to embark on a new venture.  If this had happened a few years ago I’m sure we would have had more trouble about the change.

We’re not finished yet, as we’re still looking for somewhere to go, though we’re driven by optimism more than reality.

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Dave, one of the founders, came to visit. He was working with Julia at the council when his contract came to an end and she decided she was fed up of constantly re-applying for her own job. The rest, as they say, is history. He’s been ill for a while, but is now on the way to recovery. That brightened the day, as the group always likes to see him. We’re going to get Men in Sheds to help repair his old electric wheelchair, which is currently refusing to go in the same direction as the joystick.

It seems like a small enough fault, but in the context of a man who likes to get out and about this represents the very narrow margin between sightseeing on a river bank and being featured in a high profile emergency rescue.

He’s challenged me to a wheelchair race when he gets it fixed, so watch this space.

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Vicki brought the poppies in from the Barnstone Brownies, so the display is looking good. She’s really put a lot of effort into this, with making poppies and doing research – shame we won’t be able to build on it for next year. I’m thinking of burying the poppies after we’ve used them. It will be both an artistic statement, and an ancient military tactic: there is so much salt in them that the new tenants, with their promised landscaping, may find there is a permanent bald patch where little will grow.

We’ve also been doing a bit of packing, some Christmas planning, and rehearsing the Christmas entertainment. That might be better expressed as Christmas “entertainment” as a bit of Bollywood style belly dancing, a carol (yet to be decided) and a rendition of I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts is going to have an uncertain effect on the audience.

Finally, we have a picture of me wearing a hat from the lost property. According to Julia I look like the oldest of the Lost Boys. I’m not sure how to take that. If it’s a reference to Peter Pan it’s probably OK, but if it’s a reference to the film I’m not so keen.

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The Oldest Lost Boy