LIFE IN THE SLOW LANE

Back in February when early retirement was still a nebulous dream, I had a plan – a list of activities to rush off and do once I was no longer shackled to an office desk. It looked something like this:

Complete wall panelling downstairs
Rip up old corridor carpet for replacement flooring
Take up wild water swimming
Consider joining the local WI group
Dig large hole in garden for a pond
Finish itinerary for a trip to east coast of Australia
Do more volunteering
Buy a sketch book and have an art attack
Climb Snowdonia
Gardening, gardening and more gardening
Sign up for those free local council Heart Smart walks

But in the 6 months since I left work, I’m beginning to realise that the pace of life in retirement is not what it once was. Somehow, I’ve subconsciously shifted out of 5^th gear and moved across into the crawler lane like all those other old tabbies behind the wheel who drive like they have all the time in the world.  Retirement is definitely more milk float than Ferrari.

Procrastination rules and that’s not always a good thing. It now takes me at least 3-4 weeks to get round to doing things which before I would have raced round to cram into an afternoon. Time has developed a gooey fluid quality, flowing like a lazy river through the jungle of my life.

So, I’ve finished the panelling, flooring and have started on the garden but as for the rest of the list? Well, there’s plenty of time to get round to considering it.

The problem with having all day to do stuff is it’s easy to get distracted. Take today for example. I should be touching up the bottom of the architraves in the corridor. I’ve had this task on my ‘To Do’ list for at least 3 months, yet some unseen force prevents me from picking up a paint brush. Instead, I’m blogging, baking, or painting pebbles. Basically, doing random shit except that which is important because that’s what being time rich is all about. Filling your day. With pleasurable, enjoyable fun stuff to while away the hours.

I need painting

In true procrastinator fashion, tasks left undone are transferred across to tomorrow’s ‘To Do’ list. Trouble is, I’m moving over the same things almost daily and never ticking them off. Hopelessly idle. Can’t be helped but more likely can’t be arsed. I’m retired so every day’s a weekend. At some point, I will get off my lazy arse to finish the architraves but for now, I’m off to pick the last of my ripened tomatoes in my nightie before I head off for a shower.

Last of the ripening tomatoes

OMG! CLADDING FINISHED

Not a cloud on the horizon. Today’s forecast is perfect for cladding – not too hot, not too wet and not too windy. Sweet.

The sound of builder’s beavering away outside is music to my ears. I’m hopeful that today could be the day when this cladding project is finally finished but I’m tempering my enthusiasm by buggering off for a spot of tai chi to release all that pent up negative no-cladding energy. I want to see real progress by the time I get back I tell myself as I swan off up the road in tight-fitting leggings in this glorious October sunshine.

I’ve deliberately dawdled home so as not to give the impression that I’ve been all that bothered by the shenanigans of these procrastinating peeps when in fact, I’m desperate to see what they’ve been up to.

Cor! Looks like they’ve pulled out all the stops. The cladding now reaches the apex, covering every inch of wall space. Nice. In addition, a strip of trim is covering all those awful uneven board edges so everything has a tidy finish.

The cladding tide has finally come in

All that’s left to do is fit the last bit of soil pipe, refix the front guttering, clear all the rubbish off site and job’s a good ‘un. 

Soil stack completed

Bedroom window frame neatly trimmed in white

Begone lawn killer!

Was I a bit too hasty in meting out imaginary punishments before any real crime had been committed? Let’s just say I won’t be sending this lot any return invitations for afternoon tea although when all is said and done, they've done a fabulous job sprucing up this tired old wall.  You could almost say it was worth waiting for ...

As for my impatience, I’m laying the blame firmly at the door of my Spanish heritage.

Planters returned to the alleyway

PAYING EXTRA TAX VOLUNTARILY

There’s been a slew of celebrities in the media recently volunteering to pay extra taxes to help the nation. Michael Palin being the last person to publicly express this desire. Clap. Clap. Clap. I applaud these noble sentiments. If you’ve got a few extra thousand quid sloshing about then why not give it to the Tax Man? Fool!

However, since there is no mechanism in place for tax revenue to be paid into Treasury coffers that isn’t actually due then I have a better suggestion to make and that is, give this cash to deserving causes that can put the funds directly into good use.

Do you really trust the Government or The Revenue to actually spend your money wisely? I mean you’ve only got to look at what they spend our taxes on now such as continually giving it to the French to fund their beach inactivity, paying it to wind farms to switch off because the grid lacks the necessary cabling to cope with all that extra power or paying for the unemployed to have nice days out at theme parks. Not much of a philanthropic return on your tax investment in UK PLC is it?

But if you were to donate a sizeable sum of money to a charity of your choice then not only would you probably mitigate some of your own personal tax bill but the funds could be put to immediate use. No doubt there are many local good causes crying out for a chunk of money to fund things that would have a beneficial impact on a community. Michael, just ask your friends, neighbours or your PA to recommend one near you then sponsor it.

Better still, give the money to a local hospice. We might all end up needing their end-of-life care services especially now that the Assisted Dying Bill has been well and truly scuppered. Hospices are known to be under-funded and many may have established means for taking in philanthropic bequests or donations. Giving your surplus cash to these selfless institutions so that folks can be properly looked after in their final days is far more of a noble act than just handing the dosh over to HMRC.

I prefer the Michael Sheen style of philanthropy, buying up the debts of ordinary people then cancelling them entirely thus liberating them from the capitalist enslavement of financial institutions. Definitely the right idea in my book.

So, if there are any other celebs out there with money burning a hole in their pocket who want to give something back to the country then act locally rather than nationally. Do not volunteer to pay extra taxes – no-one in their right mind would EVER want to do that!

AND STILL NO END IN SIGHT

I’m on the verge of ‘bumping’ off these builders. Killing them stone dead with a ‘Right. You’re off the job’ missile.

As expected, a damp squall has blown in from the West. It’s radio silence from the errant trades. Not a peep. No apology for non-appearance. Nothing. Just the sound of a frustrated tattoo being smashed out on my laptop, keyboard glowing hot, the air blue with expletives. I don’t dare ring the builder for fear of unleashing a verbal kraken. Instead, I sit stewing, scowling out the window at the pitiful spotty raindrops.

Eventually, gathering every ounce of self-composure I can muster, I text. Polite. Respectful. No capitals. No ‘where the f*** are you?’ but a more restrained ‘I guess you’re not coming today?’ My tooth-gritting restraint must have travelled down the phone line eliciting a whiny response about working at height in windy weather. Be there tomorrow. Yeah? I’ve heard that one before.

Fast forward to lunch - tasty snackette of marmalade slathered crispbreads topped with hard-boiled egg. (Weirdo!). The doorbell rings. ‘What now?’ I mutter rudely with a gob full of half-chewed food. Hastily swallowed, I brush off my crumbed chest with a few aerobic sweeps then head for the front door. ‘Hello. You must be the abseiling plumber, licensed to scale scaffolding in a force 5. Come on in.’

No doubt a peace offering from Vlad who must have realised by now that although I may be small, inoffensive looking and make a good cuppa, I’m strictly a ‘no-nonsense’ type of gal. My pipework now beautifully teed in to the main soil waste pipe, let’s hope these peeps keep their promises to finish this cladding tomorrow.

From this

To this

Handbasin & shower overflows tee'd in to main soil stack