Loving God,
Teach me to slow down in a world that is always rushing.
Amen.
Loving God,
Teach me to slow down in a world that is always rushing.
Amen.
I want it to be a distinct period with a definite beginning and end. I suppose the end and beginning of British Summer time would do but I start on my birthday (75 if you want to know) and it will finish on Easter Sunday. I chose these dates because both are celebrations for me. Invariably I receive a lot of flowers for my birthday so that makes a joyful start, and I am often treated to various meals too.
Yesterday I met up with an old schoolfriend and had a lovely meal. For those old Roman soldiers hibernaculum (winter quarters) were the time when they could socialise more than in the campaigning season and I think they knew a thing or two.
Today I am sorting out my LED candles. I knew where they were but can I find the charging cables?! Tonight the clocks will "go back" and the gentle glow of quite a lot of candles will be delightful.
Retirement has
taught me that luxury is not necessarily about having lots of money. It is
about enjoying what you have, taking your time, and occasionally treating
yourself.
During the winter
I often buy myself a cheap bunch of flowers at the supermarket. I think my favourites are alstroemeria. They are so pretty and they always last at
least two weeks. Spray carnations are
another good buy Flowers do not inspect
their containers before agreeing to look pretty. A clean jam jar will do
perfectly well.
A day with
nothing in the diary is a favourite luxury of mine. A comfortable chair, a cosy throw, an
audiobook and a little knitting or sewing is a real treat. There is a difference between being lazy and
deliberately making room for rest. Retirement should surely allow us to enjoy a
little more of the latter.
Sadly I can no
longer take long hot baths but a hot shower, fresh bedding and nightwear and
some lovely hand cream to use before bed makes an ordinary evening feel
positively luxurious.
The secret is
not to buy more things. It is often to make better use of the things we already
own. None of these things requires a
large bank balance. Some require nothing at all.
Luxury is not
about how much we spend. It is about how much pleasure we allow ourselves. We have spent enough years saving things for
best. In retirement, perhaps it is time to make ordinary days a little more
special.
But how to keep my house clean, that is the question. Step forward Jack. He's helped me before. Don't tell him that I said this, but he's actually quite good. I shall get him to push the vacuum cleaner around the house but I shall do what I can. I've also told him that we are going to clean out various cupboards while he's here. I think he's hoping to "help" me clean out the freezer as he has his eye on my supply of home-made soups.
Later this week
I will score my three quarter century.
Not everything is fun. Knees
creak. Feet are downright painful. My guts do the occasional fandango. I could go on
My memory isn’t
what it was. Sometimes I think my
glasses have legs and they hide from me.
I can go through to the kitchen and wonder why I have gone there.
I find the
world increasingly complicated. For
everything I want to do I need a password. A new car is baffling.
Ageing can be
lonely. When I retired I moved further
from many of my friends. Some friends
have died. Sometimes my house can be
wonderfully peaceful. Other times it is
painfully quiet.
And the weirdest
bit? Inside, I don't feel particularly old. I still have plans, interests and
the occasional foolish idea.
There are good
things about growing older. I care less about what people think, enjoy the
simple pleasures and have become rather protective of my time. An empty diary
can look remarkably attractive. My plan
is to keep laughing, keep learning, enjoy what I can and complain when
necessary.
This is a
rather unusual post for me but I felt that my blog is sometimes a little smug. I wish I could get my act as much together as
my blog sometimes implies.
Please don't worry. There's nothing especially wrong today except that I am getting more and more irritated by Facebook and Instagram!
He wasn’t one
of the twelve apostles but he was an important companion to St Paul who called
him the beloved physician. He wrote a
Gospel and The Acts of the Apostles. His
Gospel is full of kindness, forgiveness and second chances. He tells us about
the Good Samaritan, the Prodigal Son and the one grateful leper who came back
to say thank you.
Luke seems
particularly interested in people in need of a little TLC. His stories
remind us that God's love often appears in the most ordinary places: at a meal,
on a journey, or in an unexpected act of kindness.
St Luke reminds
me that I can make a difference simply by listening properly, checking on a
neighbour, or offering a kind word to someone having a difficult day. After all, healing the world is a noble
ambition, but we might as well begin with the person sitting beside us.
Yesterday I made a start on the Christmas puddings. There is something deeply smug about making the pud in October. I can almost feel like a woman who has her life together. Almost.
My bungalow is about forty years old but when making Christmas pudding I can feel like a Victorian cook. Weighing a huge selection of dried fruits into a bowl, stirring with a big spoon, adding booze, spices, suet, and all the other bits and pieces, makes me feel as though I’m in the kitchen at Downton Abbey.
I rather like the idea of making a wish while stirring. Mine would probably be for a peaceful Christmas, a tidy house and the ability to remember where I have put things.
There is also
something rather satisfying about preparing food weeks before it is needed. The
pudding can mature quietly in its bowl while I get on with other things. It will be stacked away at the back of the cupboard
and over the next few weeks I shall see it and feel happy.
I say “it” but
that’s not quite true. I shall make
around twenty puddings, mostly as gifts.
In return I will be given shortbread, sausage rolls, mince pies, Florentines. Making the puddings is effectively doing most
of my Christmas baking.
And now I can
sit down with a cup of coffee knowing that I have made a huge start on my Christmas
preparations. I shall enjoy the
feeling. It won't last.