First they told me, ‘When you retire you can relax, slow down, take things easier’, and I liked the idea
of walking or bending within the pain threshold, thinking, working, reasoning things out below the Paracetamol subsidy line,. I liked the idea of just cruising along on mooch speed, and pausing now and then to concentrate on scratching exactly where it itched, for as long as was needed. Then, when I did retire, I found that I felt like Bambi when the forest caught fire; I couldn’t run fast enough, and I didn’t know which direction was best, ‘cos everywhere I looked there was a job needed doing before all the others. The world was brimming with demands for floor layers, carpenters, decorators, electricians, but I was the only schmuk in the builders’ yard- it was no good singing ‘Somebody else not Me’ ‘cos I was the only mug in the labour exchange.
f course, by then, everyone had changed their tune to ‘you always find that, when you retire. We all found it. What did you expect?’ Eventually, we did manage to get a firm grip on the break handle and slowly pull it a good way back, so that by early this year, we had managed to slow down to a walking pace, in spite of a rising tide of nursery planning, and much muttering of sewing, curtains, patchwork and such, as a result of Simon and Miriam’s pending foray into DIY geneology.
sabelle Clar (Isabelle-Spanish diminutive of Elizabeth, my late Mother; Clar- Simon’s maternal Grandmother was Clarice, always called Clar) was born 2.10am 18th April, 8lb 1oz. All four grandparent arrived at the bedside at about 6pm to find Mother, Father and child all sitting, packed and waiting to be allowed home. To put it calmly, dispassionately, and without exaggeration, our Grand-daughter is perfect in every way. There were no impressions of Churchill or of boiled hocks, no pointy head, no marks, scratches, lumps, bruises. Whatever you could require in a new born female, she had it in full, and has continued so- three teeth as we go to press. She wasn’t actually born on the Sabbath Day, but she does have all the associated attributes-‘Sunny, ‘Bonny, Blythe and Gay’.
hen the world went mad! We seemed to live ‘on the hoof’, travelling hither and yon. Never mind the details- shopping trips, measuring walls, curtains and cots, re-building shelf units, ‘…these are all your trantlements; you’ll have to clear them out…I thought you could paint this chest…I need to go to Norwich for some pink cotton…crimping shears…a new machine…
When we arrived at the Norfolk Showground, and I felt the pain of the weight of the first tent pole, I thought ‘I can’t see me coping with this, next year’, so I mooted the possibility of giving up the shows, especially in the light of our new and time consuming ‘interest’. Later, having done all three for a combined rent of £500 and no profit, ‘The Management’ agreed to elbow the lot. I did do the Yarmouth Christmas Market (in the church- no tent needed) and was pleased to come home with a roll thick enough to choke a small donkey. Then a week later (last week, in fact) my annual exhibition at home brought in the price of a few more loaves; could have done better, but considering the times, selling something that no-one can’t do without is no small achievement. As the councillor promised, when seeking re-election, we will have puddin’ with our dinners- over Christmas and beyond.
hich brings us up to Christmas again, and again it will be a different Christmas. Miriam, Simon and Isabelle will be with us for another first Christmas. When I glance through my back numbers, it’s surprising how many first Christmases we’ve had- some happier than others, but this will be Isabelle’s first. She won’t have a clue what’s going on. I daren’t say that to Nannie; she thinks Isabelle’s already interested in recipes, and Miriam says she’s already enjoying Sainsbury’s. It will be excellent practice for us; Valerie’s already located two red pillow slips- yes two- an empty one to leave out, and another, the full one, to switch during the night, because in a couple of years’ time, we’ll really need to be on the ball, and I’ve got to be up to the job, or ‘the Management’ will come down hard on me.
o now we learn to march to another drum. We learn again to see the world through a child’s eyes, to re-discover skills we had mislaid, like distinguishing sleigh-bells, drinking imaginary tea from timblespoons, spinning stories, telling tall tales, rigging games of ‘Pass the Parcel’, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Jesus. We are looking forward to Christmas. It’s going to be really good. Hope yours is too.
Merry Christmas, everybody,
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