So retirement bits and bobs. I could write about the musical side of my retirement – tonight’s practice, next week’s folk fiddle gig on either guitar or bodhran or both, or about this Sunday’s jazz session. But then I did that a couple of weeks ago.
I could write about our recent trips to Derbyshire (more weeding) or tomorrow’s drive up to the vineyard hoping to take a look at the sit-on-mower I might buy from my neighbour. But then he tells me it’s not ready to be inspected or tested out, because it needs a new drive belt. No, me neither. So that little thrill will have to wait.
I could write about my frustrations with tradesmen and neighbours. Van not fixed because his mechanic friend has just bought a house. Conservatory window not replaced because… well, I don’t know why because he didn’t get back to me as he said he would. Or the planning consultant who’s supposed to let me know if the planning authorities have stopped chasing us (a long story). He’s not returned my call.
In each of these cases I’ve tried to claw back some control by calling, texting, emailing them and in each case I’ve been further frustrated by no response. In fact of all the efforts I’ve made this morning (Thursday), the only people who have got back to me are the estate agents who want to value our house. And why would they not when houses in our area are selling like hot cakes, whatever that means.
There’s a moral to all of the above but other than, people only reply if there’s money in it for them, who knows, but then the window man is going to be paid for his work replacing the conservatory window, so that doesn’t quite hold true. Maybe there isn’t enough money in it for him?
In other cases I’m expecting them to be ‘a good egg’ (my neighbour) or to be professional (the planning consultant). Then there’s this blog and my IT guy did eventually get the picture issues fixed but when I asked him what was wrong with it he said something about my platform not being the best or some such gobblydigook. Hmm, I thought well you chose it. Never mind, oh, and I need £160 to renew your blog ‘platform’ for another year. And to think if we bought a house in Ireland I was worried as to whether there was an internet connection. I sometimes think I’d be better off without one. I mean finding a topic for this blog hasn’t been easy.
And talking of Ireland (and my cunning plan to escape this government and all these bloody tradesmen and yes, I know they’ll be the same in Ireland, the tradesmen that is, not sure about the government) I told you in a recent blog that the property with a lot of land (for the vineyard), has been sold.
Well, never to be deterred, I’ve found another property nearby. This is much cheaper and smaller and with hardly any land and so wouldn’t require us actually moving there which you will remember Mrs Summerhouse was not keen to do even though she is more Irish (both parents) than me (one parent). So it would be more like a holiday home I suppose, which doesn’t really solve my irritations. But it stops me dwelling on the irritations of retirement life in England.
As I believe I’ve written before, the problem with retirement is that you have so much more time to agonise about life’s short-comings and yes, I know I could use the time to count my blessings, but, as you know, this simply isn’t my style.
Anyway we’ll see what the estate agent has to say, and whether the bank would lend us money as a bridging loan (is that what they’re called these days?) to bridge the gap between buying in Ireland and selling our Derbyshire property (and this has some emotional drawbacks, let me say).
In a few minutes Mrs SH will be back with news of the loan and we’ve an appointment fixed up with the estate agent on Tuesday morning. We have an appointment with the bank next Wednesday. So we will see what that brings, if anything.
Retirement bits and bobs summary
Phew blimey, I’m exhausted just writing it all down. It’s all very well separating our problems and seizing control where and when you can but it is not without cost both time and energy-wise and then there’s the writing it all down as I have done here. I sometimes think it might have been easier to carry on working or to seize on those odd (and very rare) job offers I’ve had since retiring a mere eight years ago.
Please forgive the slightly ironic image at the top of this blog.