Tag Archives: retirement

Changes

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The recent arrival of my pension documents through the post were a bit of a shock. Retirement, is becoming real. It was, in my thirties, a far off myth, a bit like Avalon or Narnia. In middle age it became the subject of daydreams, where we would wander off, hand in hand, into some fuzzy place where we would do things we had been putting off. Later, it became a place of dread, as my delinquency in failing to make proper pension arrangements came home to roost. Finally, the time has arrived.

We now have to start putting plans into action, and make some decisions. At one time I would have had no problem with this – I would simply have set a date and done it. Theoretically it’s easier than when i was younger, as there will be no employment to work round when retirement comes.

In practice, there’s a lot of physical and mental clutter to work round. It’s time to declutter on an epic scale, and face the fear about what I will do when i have no job to add form to my life. I also have to face the fact that a lot of my plans aren’t going to happen. I won’t be walking miles across salt marsh looking for Bitterns, and I won’t be writing any best-sellers in a late-blooming writing career, because I’ll be watching Countdown. I may be old, but I’m not senile, and can see the writing on the wall (which is what Countdown is all about). . No matter what I may wish, the habit is set (as discussed in my last post) and despite all my good intention I am likely to go to the grave with the song still in me.

Unfortunately for the construction of this post, Thoreau actually said that most men lead lives of quiet desperation. The good bit, the bit about going to the grave with the song still in them, is a misquote. Isn’t that always the case?

Quotes are never as good as you remember them being, which is a quality they share with much of my life.

 

Snow, Swans, Superglue

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In the end, the snow settled, even if it was a bit wet and half-hearted. It was less evident by the time I arrived at work (it’s always less snowy at that side of town) and by the time we closed it was a bright sunny day with no snow. We do, unsurprisingly, have a touch of snow remaining round the house – shade and a northern aspect hindering the thaw.

I saw two swans flying over on the way to work this morning, and, on he way back from work, saw a cormorant flying over. Judging from its direction of flight it was aiming for the lakes at the Jubilee Campus. I suspect the fish are growing to a decent size as the lakes become more mature.

Did I mention I got some pension documents through the post earlier in the week? I had some more today. Retirement, which had been seeming quite distant, is now a lot closer. Part of this is that although I have over a year until I retire, my work pension is available in a few months. This is what happens when the government tinkers with systems. In the next few months I will be making some important decisions.

One plan I am considering is gathering all my cash together and sticking it all on red for a single spin of the roulette wheel. If it goes well I will have a more comfortable old age. If it comes up black I’m in deep trouble.

After yesterday’s post we had one of those married couple discussions. We have agreed to add superglue to the list of things I am not allowed to handle unless under supervision. If she reads this I’ll probably find that roulette tables have been added too.

Codger or Curmudgeon?

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Came home, read and answered comments, watched quizzes on TV, at tea off my lap (which is a habit I keep meaning to break), was shouted at for snoring, read some blogs and now, have settled down to rite my nightly slice of life.

I have just over eighteen months until I retire. It is now becoming real. Julia has a couple of years longer so I may carry on for a little while after that. It is alarmingly close when I think of the work that needs doing on this house to make it look good enough to sell. Then there is finding another place and actually moving. It’s a long time since I last moved. I borrowed a truck from work, got a few friends together and moved a load of books and secondhand furniture 65 miles. It’s going to be a bigger job this time, and I can’t do my own lifting.

It’s time for a decision over what sort of retire I want to be. Do I want to be a genial old codger, or a miserable old curmudgeon? I think we already know the answer to that, so there’s no point wasting time on it.

A friend of mine once suggested that life in a hotel would be an ideal retirement lifestyle – no gardening, no decorating and regular meals. The problem, of course, is cost. And sharing with other people. And having nowhere to put a shed. I’d like a shed in retirement. It would be quite nice to live in a place in a city where you could have a roof garden and have a shed that looked out over a vast display of life. I think I may have left the arrangements a bit late for that. In my next life I will pay more attention to material things and spend less time daydreaming when I should be establishing a property empire. However, for now I’ll settle for a shed.

The Fruit Exchange

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We gave one of the neighbours a bowl of plums the other day. I thought Julia was being a bit generous with the size of the bowl, as I like plums, but let’s face it, they go bad easily so it’s better to give them away than see them rot.

Today we had a knock on the door and were given a bowl of figs and two sizeable squash.  Fair exchange, as they say, is no robbery.

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Figs – Brown Turkey

They look a bit green, but they are beautifully ripe – I’ve already had one to check. Some of the plums are perfect and some still a little sharp, but it’s better, I feel to pick at this point. One year we left them a bit late and a lot went brown and mouldy overnight. Some years, because of poor management, the tree fails to produce, but although it’s disappointing it’s not as bad as wasting the crop.

Our cherry tree, as I may have remarked before, was picked clean by birds most years so I simply took it out, which gave more room for the plum and the rhubarb.

Julia tells me that the container grown damson tree is almost ready to pick, though the harvest will only be eight fruits.

The final photograph is plums in a steel bowl. It’s difficult photographing fruit. They may sit still, but there’s not much of interest about them so when  I got the chance to use the reflections I gave it a go.

Reflected Plums - Victoria

Reflected Plums – Victoria

The problem was that as I took pictures I ate plums and by the end of the shoot there were significantly fewer plums in the photographs.

I’ve been thinking about my retirement and if I really need a garden or should buy a flat instead. A flat would mean no garden and less work, but a bungalow would mean space to sit outside and would make me take exercise, which I really should have. And I could plant fruit trees.

There are various proverbs and quotes on this subject, but it is now time for me to plant trees even though I may not live to sit in their shade.

Random Thoughts II

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After studying a number of articles on writing I decided to take some of the advice on board and write every day. I’ve previously tried setting myself targets, and have sometimes managed to hit them. Unfortunately this occasionally presents problems when I run out of inspiration. As you can see from yesterday’s post there are days when even the use of a random subject generator doesn’t help. It did, however, help provide inspiration for today’s title.

I turned it on again today and turned up: “Write about moving home.”

Coincidentally, that is precisely what we are thinking of doing. It’s time we looked at bungalows and, based on the experience of my parents, it’s better to start thinking about it now rather than delay. They were about eighty when they moved last, and even though they didn’t move far it was obviously quite hard for them.

I’m actually quite worried that the random subject generator is predicting my thoughts so accurately.

We’re having to make some big decisions about where we want to live. I’d actually be happy living in a tent. The maintenance required would be minimal – just some canvas and a needle and thread. It would be lovely in summer, just roll the side up and have one massive garden room. The other 362 days of the year would be more of a problem and winter wouldn’t be much fun, but these days winter isn’t much fun anyway.

Blue Iris
Iris at Mencap Gardens
Yellow Flag

Julia is insisting on somewhere with walls and a roof. She’s probably right. She’s also stipulated that it needs to be near a hospital because I spend so much time there these days. She’s very practical. I was thinking of living near the coast and learning about sea fishing – she’s thinking of medical care. My worry about the coast was centred on global warming rather than blood tests. As sea levels rise East Anglia is likely to return to the sea and even if you could get enough sandbags shopping in a rowing boat isn’t going to be much fun.

She’s also insisting that we give the kids the address of the new house. This is a bit of a blow as we will have to let them visit. In that case we will have to have a bigger kitchen to house the larger fridge this will involve.

Actually, she’s probably right about not moving to the coast – that would just be asking for people to come and visit.

Garden Flowers
Garden Flowers
Garden Flowers

We have a few years to decide, so there’s no need to rush. One thing we do want is a manageable garden as, inspired by other blogs, I want Julia to have plenty to do in retirement. I’d feel guilty if she hadn’t enough to do. The other thing is that I’d like to be detached. After thirty years living joined to a man with a drill and a passion for DIY (which he indulged for three hours this morning) I don’t want to share a wall again.

So, here’s a question. If you were moving again what would be important to you? A bit like Desert Island Discs, you can take your current spouse and let the children have your forwarding address…

 

 

 

Poppies, Planning and Pottering

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Yesterday it was coins, today it’s poppies. My life is varied if nothing else.

I spotted these bees in the poppies as I walked to the car yesterday. I did not have a lot of time to spare, and didn’t want the neighbours to think I was mad, so I just took a few shots as the poppies blew in the wind as I passed by on my way to work. As a result, the shots aren’t great, or varied.

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Orange Poppies

That’s the story of my life. Rush, rush, rush and never time to stop and get a grip. After a three month holiday I really should be more organised. In fact I should be so organised that everything is perfect. It isn’t, and I will probably look back on this time with deep regret. Not that such thoughts are unusual, as I find I have them more and more. I thought you were supposed to be at your most depressed in your 40s, and that you became more cheerful as you age. It hasn’t worked out like that.

I suspect that like “Life begins at 40” and “60 is the new 40” this is aimed at making old people feel better about themselves. In fact one of the links I followed, whilst saying positive things about old age, also mentioned that hearing loss could be a burden in old age. It mentioned this several times and I wasn’t surprised to find a big button at the end of the article linking it to a site to sell hearing aids. I may be old, and slightly deaf, but I can still spot when someone is blowing smoke.

Last night I started planning for my retirement. It’s less than five years before I can draw my pension and I’m looking at all my options.

A time machine would be good, as I could go back, correct my worst decisions, save more money and look forward to a comfortable retirement, Ditto for winning the lottery. Logic says that I probably have more chance of inventing a time machine than I have of winning the lottery. I have made some plans for that. My theory is that if you buy enough longcase clocks and set them all running at the same time they will, because they are old and unreliable, all start to show marginally different times. When 12 o’clock comes round a few days later the cacophony of clocks striking at slightly different times will set up a temporal vortex and I will step through it. Now I come to think of it, I might have got that from an episode of Doctor Who…

I’ve just been looking at the WEA website (Worker’s Educational Association) looking for things to do in retirement. I hadn’t thought of them for years and now realise that some of their courses might have been useful during lockdown. Unfortunately the ones I want all have waiting lists. I’m sure I will manage to do something along those lines in the next few years.

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Bee in Poppy

I had always imagined that retirement would be spent pottering around, but I’m already pottering, so I need another ambition. As I’m already becoming noticeably more curmudgeonly as time goes on I can’t save that for retirement either. It really does seem like I’m becoming old before my time. I should, according to the internet, be out learning how to skateboard, not sitting at home moaning. As I can’t even balance well enough to put my trousers on without introducing a frisson of jeopardy into the proceedings, so I’m certainly not risking a skateboard.

As a retirement project I may write a book about getting old. With any luck I may manage to sell it as a a TV script, so I will ensure that bathing in asses milk, driving sports cars and drinking red wine are prominent in the book so I can travel the world enjoying myself. According to this article I will need to drink 180 bottles of wine a day to get the full benefit. If I ever work out how to function without a liver I may give it a go.

Zen and the Art of Procrastination

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It’s time to start sorting out my life. How many times have you heard that? I know I’ve said it several times.

As things stand, I’m not reading books, I’m not reading blogs and I’m not getting enough decluttering done. That’s not to say that I’m idling my time away, I’m still writing, I’m still cooking (in a determondly average sort of way) and I’m spending time on ebay.

I’m happy with the writing time but the time on ebay needs decreasing. Originally I was looking at it with a view to learning current prices and looking at starting to sell on ebay again. It hasn’t quite worked like that and I’m back, once again, to collecting.

The intention was actually to clear the house and live a life of zen simplicity interspersed with the holidays we’ve not had over the years.

It has struck me recently, as I’ve sat cogitating my hospital experience and the nature of mortality, that I’m on the downward leg of the journey to three score years and ten. I’m 60 next birthday (as I was recently reminded), and this isn’t a two way street.

I’m also mindful that health problems prevented my parents carrying out their retirement plans. They still had a long and happy retirement, but it wasn’t the one they had planned. In fact Dad is still with us and still enjoying himself. However, he would probably be enjoying himself more if things had gone to plan.

So there you are, a slice of philosophical misery. Not very cheerful but something I wanted to talk about for some time as it’s important, and I’m interested if anyone has any views.

I’ve been meaning to write it for some time but I never get round to it.