In the spirit of coming out of lockdown yesterday, as it will be by the time you read this retirement blog, we decided to cut loose a little. Maybe we’d better enjoy this period while we can, given the Indian variant hovering above us like a biological sword of Damocles. As if I don’t have enough to be anxious about without the prospect of yet another lockdown. Retirement causes me enough anxiety in its own right without additional problems.
We don’t know what our holiday prospects are for the rest of the year – who does. In our case we’re pretty sure we won’t be going to Ireland and Irish Ferries, although they extended our deposit payment for a year, won’t extend it beyond the end of this year. So who knows where we stand with Ireland in the future. It would be very sad if this pandemic ends our 7 year (in recent times) relationship with the Emerald Isle. Even longer if we go beyond these seven years.
And talking of going back a long way in time. We may be flying to America (we’ve not been here since 2012) to check out progress with our Colorado cabin but only if America gets put on the UK’s green list. And who knows if and when that will happen. So we’re trying to keep control of our holiday prospects by staying close to home.
Last week we booked two hotel stays both in Yorkshire and both hotels are where we have stayed before and enjoyed them. One, in two week’s time, at The Devonshire Arms, Bolton Abbey (as above) and the second in September at The Devonshire Fell hotel at Burnsall. Because we have the dogs we usually try and talk directly to the hotel as booking on line doesn’t have the ‘two dogs’ option. So last week, needing a little optimism on our timetable, we thought, as we were in the area, we would call in and talk directly to a person about our prospective bookings.
Well that was the plan, the nearest I got to this at the first hotel was talking to the manager through an open window. Now that’s a first. But what we lacked in physical proximity we made up for in internet closeness – as we’d stayed here before, she was able to tell me the name of our two dogs – Archie and Millie, so that was nice.
The second hotel, The Devonshire Arms, I actually got inside but had to conduct the conversation with me wearing a mask and she behind a screen. It made hearing what she said a challenge. It’s (my hearing) an area of increasing challenge and with this set up it was nearly impossible. Strangely wearing a mask seems to affect my hearing – how can this be? And no I haven’t got the mask over, or even in, my ears.
Of course it is possible that, if we have another lockdown, it will all have been for nothing. My putting my ear right by the little hole in the Perspex screen, saying sorry could you repeat that and feeling a prat, all wasted. But we must try and hang on to the optimism.
We had decided to go down to Derbyshire next week (tomorrow to you) but then read in Saturday’s paper that the Erewash Valley (which is where we are going) was actually an Indian variant hotspot. I checked with my neighbour down there and indeed it was true even if it was, he thought, only one person. He said he would monitor the situation and keep me informed.
Shame really because Derbyshire, and a booking at one of our favourite pubs for lunch, was all part of our plan for emerging blinking into a post-lockdown world. Not so fast wiser (or more pessimistic) voices said, it’s not over until the fat lady sings and at the moment she’s just humming the notes.
So our break-free tactics in the last two or three weeks have constituted 5 outdoor drinks and lunches. Last week we just got through our main course at the side of the road (any space is tabled in a crisis, even this erstwhile parking spot) in Appletreewick when, as they say, the Heaven’s opened. It made the decision about dessert an easy one but leaving a highly expensive pint of Moretti lager unfinished was galling you might say.
Lunch, the following day in Masham, was more civilised; we dined under cover. So the setting was better but the food was worse. Hey ho. After the ciabatta sandwich Mrs Summerhouse decided we would not have dessert at the pub but rather we would sit on bench in the market square and have a tub of the local ice cream. A good decision we thought.
We’re certainly giving it some welly in terms of the outside drinking aspect of our retirement lives. I think that’s eight different pubs in total since that aspect of lockdown has been modified. And I write this as somebody not particularly fond of outside drinking and eating. How many might we have visited if we had been fond?
So we’re doing our best to rise above my anxieties – the cabin, the barn, the vineyard, the possible mortgage, the sister’s weekend, the podcast files, blog rating and so on, all that small stuff I mentioned before. If you can’t solve these problems / challenges – yet – then you just have to balance them with the nice stuff. At least that’s my current retirement blog thinking. Who knows what comes next.