SPANIEL EARS

Peeling off my sodden togs after another squelchy walk home from work, I happened to notice that my pair of once pert juicy grapefruits were hanging down despondently like a couple of deflated balloons.

‘Spaniel ears’ as one of the more raucous members of our team calls them every time the topic of conversation veers round to the joys of old age or dieting.

What happens to boobs as you age

As I gaze down at these two sad puppies, it also dawns on me that the pair are not symmetrically matched either. One side is definitely larger than the other which means that my very own planetary orbit has been on a tilt since puberty. Gravity is most certainly not your bestie once you hit 50 and has definitely slung its hook after 60.

If that wasn’t bad enough, my former furry friend is now looking more and more like a mangy bedraggled badger than an under-pruned lady bush. Grey hairs it seems are not just confined to your bonce. There’s no escaping the fact that getting old is truly a physically sorry state of affairs.

Rather than splashing the cash on MDF for wood panelling maybe I should instead use the funds to implement my own levelling up agenda. A few well aimed tweaks here or there could turn these south-facing spaniel ears into a magnificent pair of sit-up-and-beg pedigree chums. If only I could find a few thousand quid stuffed down the back of the sofa.

Everything's gone south

All the chest presses in the world aren’t going to cure these bad boys any time soon so I guess its going to be a case of just making the most of the best window dressing available plus a few mechanically engineered bras to keep these spaniel ears looking as perky as possible.

WORK IS NOT THE ENEMY

And this week’s gold medal in the Tabloid Winter Olympics goes to The Times for giving me a hernia-inducing belly laugh.

The Your-Having-A-Laugh Medal

Seriously though I was almost reaching for the Tena Lady after reading an article entitled ‘Here’s Why You Shouldn’t Touch Your Pension Lump Sum in Your Fifties.’

Gold medal journalism

The last time I had such a monumentally hysterical fit of the giggles was during the cowboy fart scene in Blazing Saddles. You know the one. Still brings tears to my eyes even thinking about it today.

So, what was it about this article that tickled my fancy? It was mostly the paragraph headed up ‘Work Isn’t the Enemy’ and the advice that reframing how you perceive your job is perhaps better than taking early retirement. You’re kidding, right?

Well, as one who is on the cusps of taking early retirement then I’ll quantify why I’m not going to be reframing my perception of work any time soon with just one word – Boxer.

Have you read Animal Farm, Bec? Yes? No? If you haven’t then perhaps you’ll be interested to learn what happened to Boxer.

Boxer from Animal Farm by George Orwell

Boxer was Animal Farm’s cart-horse, strong of heart and hoof. His mantra ‘I will work harder’ is probably what lead to his eventual sticky downfall. Almost killed from years of overwork whilst building a windmill, Boxer continued to slave away on the belief that after all his hard work he’d eventually be retired and put out to pasture. Unfortunately for poor Boxer, he was betrayed by his greedy fat pig paymasters who having exploited him to the nth degree, sold him to the Knackers Yard once he was no longer able to perform.

And this Boxer principle is probably why so many of us choose to take early retirement once we can afford to because working yourself into the ground only to be betrayed by the fat pig paymasters (Government) who promise you the world in exchange for continued tax payments is not what we signed up for.

Like Boxer, my body is already physically broken with painful ailments affected by repetitive actions such as keyboarding, prolonged periods of sitting or having to deal with stressful workplace situations. It would be daft not to avail myself of the Get-Out-Of-Jail pension card as that’s my only hope of having a fighting chance of being able to enjoy my golden years before I end up being sold to the Knackers.

For me and many other ‘Boxers’ out there, it simply isn’t a case of finding a different job or re-framing our perceptions of employment but having the freedom to choose the path of our own destiny.

The article goes on to say that early retirement may not be all it’s cracked up to be. And how do you know this? Did you survey millions of people who took early retirement for feedback on whether they felt better for leaving the rat race? No, I guess not.

I didn't let pension rules dictate my life decision because I’m one of those obstinate people who rarely take notice of what others tell me I should be doing with my life. I prefer to make my own informed decisions based on a good deal of research, spreadsheets and number crunching.

Early retirement is what you make it – same as the rest of the time that’s lead up to this point. If you don’t think you can find stuff to do to take the place of employment then by all means, keep at it but I’ll tell you this – work WILL NOT set you free.

ECONOMICALLY INACTIVE

Countdown to doing nothing has officially begun. In around 2 months I will be joining the ranks of those deemed ‘economically inactive’ by the Treasury. Do I care? Not one jot! I’ve paid into the coffers for over 43 years, enough is enough.

Cash poor, time rich that’ll be me. The thought of having nothing to do after a lifetime of employment is actually quite a scary prospect. Work defines many of us. We have careers, companies, colleagues. Discussing what has or hasn’t happened in the office on any given day is our lifeblood so what happens when all of that disappears into the ether? I guess I’m about to find out.

Like a political party, I can already feel my brain splitting itself into two camps; the Yahoo-I’m-Finally-Free faction and the Not-A Moment-to-Lose faction.

The Yahoos are relishing the prospect of total unfettered freedom. The freedom to do what you want, when you want and with no-one to answer to. Captain of the good ship Idleness sailing the seas of laissez-faire. I can hibernate all winter long if I choose to. Unkempt, unwashed and unconcerned about anything other than the time of my next cuppa.

I’ll have so much time on my hands that for once I’ll be able to squander it. Guilt free! Time rich. Time can’t be taxed so I’ll be a High Time Worth Individual, a multi-minute millionaire with complete freedom to do as little as possible. No more getting up at 6.30 am to join the rat race.

On the other hand, the Not-A-Moment-to-Lose part of my brain is drawing up a To Do list of mammoth proportions because essentially, it’s following the mantra that if you stop, you die.

Like drawing up a bucket list, this is a list of all those things I always said I’d do on retirement which in my case was take up photography or oil painting. I’ve set aside a notebook to jot down all those ‘been meaning to do this’ projects so I can race into retirement with a master plan that leaves little room for boredom or the desire to return to the rank and file.

Already on the To-Do-In-Retirement List or POSER Plan are the following:

• 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
• Become a Super-Blogger
• Sign up for those free local council Heart Smart walks

And that’s just for starters because as all of us compulsive ‘A-listers’ know, once you start listing stuff it just goes on and on and on …

With all of the above to be getting on with, I really don’t see where I’d have time to fit a job into the equation so it’s just as well I won’t need to.

POUNDLAND'S DEMISE

Killer! Murderer! Assassin! Me and millions like me have dealt Poundland a fatal death blow. Et Tu Brute. I’ve as good as stuck the knife in.

These were my thoughts as I mooched round the already plundered aisles of Chichester’s soon-to-be-closed-down Poundland like a scavenging vulture looking for a carcass to pick clean. As sure as eggs is eggs, I’m one of many who have contributed to the demise of this popular retail emporium.

Bye bye Poundland - I'll miss you

How can one tiny person bring down such a commercial colossus? By being lazy, that’s how.

Modern technology has spawned a nation of indolent shoppers for whom taking a trip to town to buy toiletries, clothing or anything has become nothing more than an inconvenience. Why bother to get dressed, sit in traffic, stress over where to park the car or jostle with the great unwashed in cramped shops that don’t respect your personal space when you can just purchase whatever you like from the comfort of your laptop or smartphone? For many of us, shopping means major mental trauma.

Not only is online shopping easier or quicker but you can also use websites such as Trolley.co.uk to look for the cheapest price rather than trudge endlessly round squinting at price stickers or having your ankles smashed by trolleys/buggies driven by inconsiderate idiots who fail to grasp that two objects cannot occupy the same space unless they’re in a parallel dimension. Plus, some gumby gets to bring your purchases straight to the front door freeing up even more time for a spot of cyber-bingo or electronic celebrity undressing.

Supermarkets and other retailers are happy to encourage laziness since online deliveries/click & collect have become a multi-million pound industry.  They're making money hand-over-fist from the bone idle so they're not likely to be that bothered about the impact on the ever-dwindling high street.

Multiply one person’s laziness by millions of shoppers and you’ll understand why Britain’s High Streets are slowly disappearing, sucked dry by the commercial vampire that is internet shopping. We’re all guilty of killing off our town centres. Poundland won’t be the last chain to be garrotted by idleness.

In addition to that ‘can’t be arsed’ attitude that’s decimating our shopping precincts, shopper habits in general have probably changed in response to the current economic climate and other factors. I know mine have.

Being a self-confessed Super Scrimper, I no longer pop out for the odd trip to town, preferring instead to shop in bulk usually online. I keep a beady eye on prices then when I spot what I feel is a bargain, I buy a large quantity of that product. Take toiletries for example. Not for me the odd tube of toothpaste or can of deodorant stuck in with the weeks shopping. When I need this type of thing I get at least 6 tubes or cans or enough to tide me over for several months. In this way I can lock in that bargain price thus creating a cushion against the risk of future price increases in the market.

Same goes for laundry or cleaning products. At the start of each year, I ‘forecast’ how much detergent, washing up liquid or fabric softener I might need for the next 6-12 months then I wait for supermarket offers on these items. When the price is right, I stock up. It’s why my understairs cupboard always looks like a subsidiary of Poundland because bulk buying enables me to take advantage of economies of scale. Always keep a smaller pack/container in use which can be easily refilled from larger ones.

For those of you out there thinking ‘what a saddo’ well you may be right but I’ve always felt that if you look after the pennies, you don’t need to worry about the pounds. Must be all those years working in investment banking.

And so, this is how I’ve helped to kill Poundland and loads of other retail establishments by being a weirdo shopper who buys things online. 

Sorry to see Poundland go from Chi’s High Street. No doubt it’ll be replaced with yet another café, pizza parlour or expensive up-market chain that’s of little use to anyone other than the super-rich.