My wife, although younger, will retire before me.  It makes sense for her to settle into her new routine before I have to settle into it too.  I have plans, of course, for my own retirement: I want to write more; I want to paint something that is not a wall; I want to get out and about to see the world around me.  I think that my wife would like to see me hone my DIY skills, whilst I would like to see me honing my paying somebody else to do it skills.

However old you are, forever feels like a very long time indeed and looking forward into an uncertain future is daunting.  Until now work has always provided some structure to life:

• Work days – get up, go to work, come home, go to bed
• Days off – get up, do all the jobs I couldn’t do before because I was at work, go to bed

but what lies ahead is potentially routine-less and uncertain.  Some things will not change – chores have to be done; DIY has to be attempted; phone calls have to be made to people who can put it all right again – but although, in the main, I have been working only two days a week of late, I worry how I will fill those soon-to-be vacant hours.  I really don’t want it to be just two more days to fill with what I have always done.  I need some new doors to open (preferably ones that I haven’t hung myself).  I’m looking forward to doing more of the things that I like, but the question is, will I get away with doing less of the things I don’t?

In fact, what I am doing today is the thing that I love most (writing) squeezed into the gaps between the chores – being ‘of an age’ I can’t possibly charge through the entire day without taking regular breaks for tea and cake – so if I’m a little disjointed, I apologise.  (N.B. If you had actually noticed that I am disjointed, I can only suggest that you get out more.)  Taking a short break (sometimes of several days) in the midst of a designated task, begins to feel completely normal (as does involuntary groaning, unconscious moaning and – for any male with grandchildren – an unexplained infatuation with Ms. Appleberry from Cocomelon).  This is how life changes.

For most of us the changes are slow and creeping, like a glacier moving downhill with barely perceptible but none-the-less inexorable progress: like the inevitable collapse of morals amongst those who, however idealistic at journey’s dawn, search for power and – in the worst instances – find it.  There can be no greater irony than that the quest for absolute power is almost always pursued in the name of democracy: that so much hate is invoked in the name of God.  Picture a zombie hoard engaged in a merciless rampage in the name of koalas: wars fought in the name of peace.

What we all strive to achieve is change for the better.  Whatever the individual specifics, we all just want to be somehow better.  To be more open, more friendly, more generous, more smiley, thinner, fitter, healthier… more Ms. Appleberry.  I want to be all of those things.  Life is all about change.  As we get older, the changes become less voluntary and more inevitable.  Whatever a person’s beliefs, no-one wants to face the grave with a bad conscience.  The very worst of men – and let’s be honest, most of history’s really bad apples have been male – strive to repent before they take their last breath: “What’s that, Mr Hitler?  You’re sorry?  Oh, that’s alright then, all forgiven…”  Ultimately, despite the many challenges I face in my convictions, I still believe in the goodness of the human spirit.  The proof has to be in the fact that, despite living in a world that the media tells us is almost exclusively bad, the human race remains, in most part, a single, peace-seeking entity.  Put most people – whatever their politics or creed – together in a room with a common goal and individual gifts and they will work together for the ultimate good.  (Providing, of course, that there are no board games available.)

If I could have played a part, in however small a way, in making this a somehow better world, I would die a happy man (although, let’s be honest, I would always prefer the staying alive a happy man option).  The world is currently a million miles away from being anywhere close to that, but at least it gives me something to do in my retirement…

N.B. This piece was written using all four colours of the very fine pen in the photograph – a generous gift from Mr & Mrs Underfelt.  I hope for nothing but the best of days for you both.

…So the days float through my eyes
But the days still seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They’re quite aware of what they’re going through… Changes – David Bowie