Shabby or what?

Crikey peoples, now I've retired time is running away with me!  It's a while since I posted, yet every day I think of something I want to write and share with you.  Can I find the time?  Can I heck!

I'm making time now because it's Saturday evening and I booted Grumpy Trousers off to the pub.  I must say he didn't take any persuading, but his mates will be there, plus our daughter is working on the bar tonight so it will do him good to get from under my feet for a while.

Now, here's the shabby bit.  I was a PA to some high-faluting directors in blue chip companies in my past life, and as such you'd think I'd be terribly well organised wouldn't you?  Well, wrong.  I'm ditsy, and getting ditsier by the day.  The inside of my head is like a shabby old cupboard, full of crap with nothing of any importance.  Example:  today I suddenly remembered that I have a physio appointment soon for a cortisone injection in my hip (to match the one in my foot).  I didn't put the appointment on the kitchen calendar, nor did I put it on the calendar in my phone.  Or in my diary.  I have a letter for an appointment later in the month, but not one for next week.  I began to get worried and turfed out all my drawers in search of it, and I also disrupted the dumping ground for bits of paper that no-one knows what to do with.  It wasn't anywhere.  In a last ditch attempt, I emptied my purse of all its Morrisons vouchers and saving stamps, together with receipts for coffees we had while in Wales at Easter (see, I told you I was shabby!) and lo and behold, there it was, nestling in a little corner of my purse was an tiny appointment card for Tuesday next week at 8.15am.  Phew, thank goodness for that.

This is happening a bit too much lately.  I am so easily distracted and lose track of what I should be doing.  I have a strong need to retrain my brain to become more efficient, then at least I won't fret about forgetting stuff.   Another example is I double booked myself last week.  I invited two chums round for a glass of wine last Monday evening, then realised I should have been going to an Aquacise class at the local pool.  I hastily cancelled the class in favour of wine and gossip.  I'm such a dopey mare sometimes.  When I get into a proper routine with this retirement malarkey, I think I'll fare a bit better.

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I was out with a couple of chums last night as one of them had a milestone birthday.  We went to a local steak house, drank lots of Rose wine, got giggly, shared some gossip, and generally had a great time. 

Here's a picture of me (in spotty blouse) with one of  my friends from last evening.  We were a bit squiffy when the photo was taken.  Mind you we do look pretty happy too.

That could explain why I feel a bit shabby today!

Pets Interrupting Yoga

Hello friends, it's been a hectic week and I'm chasing my own tail right now. It seems retirement is not all sitting about!  I have lots of stuff to update you with when I can make time to concentrate properly on stringing a sentence together.

In the meantime, I found this which I thought might amuse you.  The cute cats and dogs are so naughty and it cracked me up, so I hope you enjoy it too.

xxxxx

My last week at work

Since I made the decision just a few short weeks ago, the time has come round so quickly.  This is now my last week at work and it's really messing with my head.  You see, I think of retirees as, well - old.  That's not fair of course, as many retirees have done it early, and have gone on to forge new skills and interests, and made a life radically different from the one they had before, taking it easy and doing things their own way.

In a way, I'm taking early retirement - by just a year.  And I don't feel old in my head.  My body argues with me most of the time, insisting that I'm decrepit and doddery, then my head argues back and the two of them start a fight!!  How I love being caught up in the middle - it gives me licence to swear and curse like a fishwife.  It's all directed at my stiffening joints, my unco-operative foot and my argumentative hip.  I turn into Agnes Brown (you know Mrs Brown's Boys?) calling everything a "fecking bastard!"  Not that I'm anything like that Irish Mammy.  Well, not a lot.  Maybe a bit. Oh go on then....I admit it, I am.

So, my plans for the summer?  Well, first of all I have to get my foot injected with cortisone next week.   If they manage to hit the correct joint (please God they do!) then I will be pain free and my walking should even out.  This will also be the measure of  success that will guide them to doing the operation to fuse that affected joint (it's the tiniest little thing deep inside my foot).  Once I can walk better on that foot, then my hip will be less sore because of the stress its currently under.  Perhaps this could be the beginning of the end of my waddling days.  Hey, look well if I can wear normal shoes again......I'll be going shopping for some fantabulous, sexy and delicious shoegasm heels!

Fellow blogger Dorne Whale blogged yesterday asking Are You Young at Heart?  .  She read in The Observer (they have posh papers over at Whale Towers) about how scientists are of the opinion that our creativity and subsequent achievements are not hindered by the onset of old age.  Well, too bloody right! She went on to say that Clint Eastwood has just directed his first musical, The Jersey Boys at the age of 84. That's a great move on two counts as far as I'm concerned....

a) the guy's still got it - in every way (ahem!)
b) I grew up with The Four Seasons music and still enjoy it to this day



Do pop over and see Dorne and read her whole post.  For those of us who are of a 'certain age' everything will ring true.  She'll also make you laugh, make you think (she inspired the format for my post today) and bless her she's a fellow foul mouth so that's an endearing quality if ever there was one.

The prime comment for me in Dorne's post was the question about how many of us are becoming increasingly aware of the clock ticking away at the side of us.  It seems like one minute I was still at school, the next thing I remember was having two babies and an absent husband, a sick mum and an old wreck of a car.  At some point after that I had a flying career, now suddenly I'm plunging headlong into retirement. What's wrong with time?  Did it feck off down a black hole?  Has yours done that?  Bloody hell, I need to make haste if I'm to achieve all the stuff I promised myself.  I want an adventure or two, such as a holiday on a Turkish Gulet, or Greek island hopping for a start.  Finishing the office at home would be good too - I can see some of my redundancy getting spent on that.  It shouldn't be much, but factoring in a contingency would hike it up a bit.

Yes, time has a nasty habit of running away at an alarming rate of knots, and I'll lay bets you know that too, don't you?

Where I go from here......the spare room?

Bloomin' heck!  Retirement.....that's for old folk, right?  Well it seems its for me too, this big life changing new phase.  Grumpy Trousers has a three year head start on me so he's well happy with his routine.  That I'm about to disrupt!

I think he sees my retirement as having a hand-grenade chucked into his world.  He wasn't happy for a few days until we had 'the talk' about what adjustments both of us were having to make.  I don't relish the thought of being with him 24/7 any more than he does - in fact the thought of it makes me cranky and I am fighting the urge to be rather unpleasant to him.  That's so WRONG isn't it?  But if he will insist on closing the bedroom window on a humid, sticky night the results are me heating up like a furnace with hot flushing and becoming itchy, witchy and bitchy.  All at once!

(image nicked from http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health)

Since his triple heart bypass operation three years ago Grumpy Trousers body temperature is much lower than mine.  I have occasional resurgence of menopause symptoms so am always hot.  Therefore, closing a bedroom window on such a night was bound to have a negative effect. He can always burrow under the duvet, but I can't get any cooler even if I'm bloody buck naked!  I huffily flounced off into the spare room, almost tore the window from hits hinges to get some air in, then realised all his crap paperwork was on the bed.  With one sweep of my arm, it scattered all over the floor in order for me to throw myself on the bed.  I shouldn't have been so worked up but (now, is this familiar to you yet?) being overheated brings on hormonal headaches that bang inside my skull.  In hindsight, I should have given myself a cool sponge down in the bathroom, but hormonal headaches prevent me from thinking clearly.  So in the spare room I remained, with a bottle of water and my Kindle, eventually soothed by a cool caressing breeze that gently wafted the curtains and sent me to sleep.

Grumpy Trousers misses me sleeping alongside him far more than I miss him.  He takes comfort from my warmth; but unfortunately I don't take comfort from his snoring, coughing, wheezing, belching and farting that keep me awake.

This is all pointing to separate rooms isn't it?  I don't want it to come to that.  Occasionally is fine, but even I would hate it to become permanent.  I'll compromise on the belching and farting, and the snoring at a push, but the coughing and wheezing needs to be addressed.

Guess who will be the one to ring the doctor?

A new phase of life

I've decided.  I'm retiring!

The decision to leave work a year early, while a bit difficult ended up being a no-brainer.  There are too many changes about to happen at work and my role is going.  A similar one with a new title will take its place but I’d have to apply and there’d be some retraining.  Definitely not worth it for just another year.  A small redundancy package is on offer, and my pension figures are on the way.

So a new phase begins.  For once I'll be at the top of my own agenda.  I've worked solidly for 47 years; 12 years full time before I had my elder daughter, sometimes doing volunteer work too, 16 years working for myself in direct selling, then a variety of jobs including temping, permanent, temping again.  I worked my way up in 'corporate world' to a really well paid PA role.  Not secretary you understand.  I did actually make it to Personal Assistant.  Sometimes I even worked at two, and even three jobs at once.  I even did happy stints at our local pub a couple of evenings a week.  I was always beavering away, never letting up with the money coming in.  Despite that, we were never that well off.  Better than some, not as good as others.  We fell somewhere in between.  Do you know, it's not until I've come to write about it that I realise just how hard I DID work!  I just got on with it.

47 years - good grief!  Where's the time gone?  I took stock of all the skills and experience I've built up over those years and they amount to rather a lot. I even cared for my mother-in-law for 5 years up to her death.  And STILL I worked as well.  So the skills and experience are in fact much more than I thought.  Even though I'm retiring from work, I'm not retiring those skills and still hope to put them to use with some form of voluntary work.  I live very near to Hardwick Hall which is a National Trust property.  They always need volunteers and I couldn't think of a nicer place to hang out in my spare time.

In the meantime, this is my favourite Jamiroquai song.  For me the words are deep and meaningful, and fit it well with my decision to leave work early because of the changes.  I hope you'll give it a listen - it may mean something to you too.

I got published!!

I'm so excited!!!   I learned today that I got a short feature published.  I've included a link to the source Boomer Cafe and my story.  

Boomer Cafe is an online magazine for baby boomers and mid-lifers that covers lots of stuff that's of interest to people like me.  It hits on topical matters like retirement, health and fitness, money together with travel and leisure.  It's based in the US and I came across it quite by accident.  They were looking for people to share stories in an essay of 300-500 words, to include photographs.  I was completely floored when they wrote back to say they liked my piece and that it would be published.  So today's the day!

It made the folks at Boomer Cafe smile apparently.  Perhaps you'd like to take a look.  It might make YOU smile too.