Well, all I can say is it’s going to be a heck of a retirement week. I don’t have a lot of time to write this blog but let me try and give you a flavour of what’s in store for Mrs Summerhouse and I. Probably the first thing to say is that on Saturday we fly out of Heathrow to Denver (see above). That sets the context for the week. For example, we’re taking the train down from Leeds to London the same morning we fly out, what if the train is delayed? And that’s just a start.
Before that even there are concerns about getting a taxi to the station. Apparently all the taxi drivers have buggered off to be lorry drivers as it’s better paid. True or false? Don’t know but friends who have tried using taxis have cautioned us to be prepared. So we are, we’ve asked one of those friends to take us to the station at 7 0’clock, Saturday morning. And, humble pie, it’s the friend I’ve been a bit snotty about in recent times. Ha, just goes to show…
Anyway yesterday we had a visit from our daughter and husband to check we had clean underwear and our passports. They’re very helpful but I can’t help feeling that we’re depending on them more and more and the person who planned and executed life in other countries and various round the world trips (that’s me) is fading somewhat into oblivion. It makes me feel a bit old but as I say obviously they mean well and we’re grateful for their help.
Last Thursday was the last folk fiddle group for a while. I won’t go to next week’s because I really don’t want us to catch Covid at this point; that would be disastrous. Fortunately what would have been my second, new jazz session was cancelled because of the Leeds Marathon (yes, weird I know) so I didn’t need to worry about whether I would wear a mask when nobody else was.
On Tuesday Mrs SH will need to wear a mask to her last yoga class before we go away. Well, it’s either that or cancel it altogether. Who knows what’s the best option? In the end she cancelled.
Today (Monday) we’re going up to the vineyard to check that the vines we planted a week or so ago, have enough water to bed them in. If they don’t then I’ll get out the new hosepipe and give them a sprinkle. Worrying about the vines when they’re just planted would normally be high on the list of life events to worry about but this time they barely get a look in.
And the reason is that there is so much else to worry about. For example on Wednesday I’m going to the hospital to see if they can find my brain. If they can they’re going to scan it to see whether I have Parkinson’s and if so which version, quite bad or well, you know. I’m not looking forward to the experience. At least worrying about the holiday means I have only a limited amount of worry quotient left for worrying about brain scans.
On Friday perhaps the biggest worry of all, we’re taking the dogs to our friends for their holiday. I’ve written before about how the dogs will cope with what will be their longest ever time away from us. They’re been here for a weekend but not two weeks. Will they hate it or, worse still, love it and not want to come home. Or will it work out just fine. I’m sure it will be the latter but one does worry.
Also on Friday we have to take a supervised Covid test. The tests which we had to buy for a total cost of £48 ( a complete rip off in my humble opinion and probably another opportunity for Boris and his mates to make money out of us) and is observed by a nurse on Zoom or something similar. It’s unbelievably complicated and the website was almost unfathomable.
We had to wait for the tests to arrive by post and managed to have our very own scam delivery offer. The type where they say, Simon tried to deliver your tests but nobody was in now pay £1.20 to have them redelivered. Just give us your credit card details. We’d ordered them Friday and this delivery supposedly came that very day. Remarkable but a fake. The real ones came Saturday. How the heck did they know we had ordered these tests? More unnecessary worry.
A heck of a retirement week summary
Time to wheel out one of my favourite workday mantras, the serenity prayer is it called. It goes something like this:
Lord give me the patience to accept those things I cannot change
The courage to change those that I can
And the wisdom to know the difference between the two.
That may not be exactly right, but it’s close enough for jazz.
Oh no, I’m not doing that. I don’t know if I can write a blog on Friday, watch this space.