You might believe I’ve made this up. It certainly seems that way to me as I write about the experience a week or so later. To cut right to the chase, after nearly 13 years of retirement I seriously considered going to back to work. There, I’ve said it and jolly embarrassing it is to admit. Even I don’t believe it and I had the thought if you see what I mean. It all started with my daughter sending me an article from The Guardian (so it must be true) about a shortage of educational; psychologists which was my profession before I retired. She suggested I should get off my bum and make a contribution. I think it was a joke but I decided to take it seriously. Which you might suggest is an indication of my dissatisfaction with the current state of my retirement.
I say current state because generally I’ve been quite happy with how I’ve set up and carried out my retirement. I planned it and, for the most part, made the plan happen, it’s generally felt pretty good. Maybe it’s the frustration with my health, that same health that has prevented me accessing many of my favourite retirement activities.
A case in point, I was watching a TV programme about Egypt. So the favourite activity in this case was travel. There was Dan Snow thrashing his way through the crowded streets of Cairo, just as we (Mrs Summerhouse and I) might have done few years ago. Now my poor walking skills and even poorer balance preclude me from attempting this my favourite kind of travel – coffee and cake or glass of wine or two at a cafe / restaurant in an exotic city, a trawl round an art gallery or similar historical experience.
So what seems to be happening is that the more distant this kind of retirement activity, the more desperate or unlikely my substitute or activity. And, as an example, and no better one than thinking about returning to work. Of course that would be a virtual return (using Zoom or the like) but such a thing is possible these days, so not so crazy from that point of view. As to whether what I would have to offer has any value or is hopelessly old-fashioned I don’t know. I have rather unfairly asked an old friend (still working as an educational psychologist) to judge. So you could say the success of the whole mad venture is in her hands, which is most unfair.
Nevertheless fair or otherwise I have given her an old training manual I wrote to read. This would form the basis of what I might offer and so she can give me her honest opinion about the merits or otherwise of my return to work scheme. Even as I write about it feels bonkers. I’d be better off working out how somebody with generally very poor walking skills can access the streets of Cairo and all the exotica that lies therein. I have chosen our hotel – Hotel Belle Epoque – for when we do go. Or maybe I should just stay at home and watch programmes about places like Cairo on TV which was Mrs Summerhouse’s suggestion. I’ll leave my flight of fancy there but it’s increasingly difficult to strike a balance between going quietly into that dark night and keeping the challenges flowing. I need to work on achieving that balance.