A beginner’s guide to retirement

This week, Charlie is mostly thinking about a quieter life

I probably spend too much time sticking my nose into the business of the creatures on our farm. If you were to ask the current Mrs Bennett about my expeditions beyond the back gate, she’d probably ask you to give her back all the hair she pulled out when I was meant to be at sports day, or at home waiting for the BT man who’d promised to call sometime between February and March; when actually I was intently watching a mole hill, on my hands and knees looking for vole arenas, or rootling about in a cow pat with my ‘going about’ stick.

This is meat and potatoes for a jobbing accidental naturalist, but it’s not only animal behaviour that interests me. It is also the doings of my fellow Northumbrians and, believe it or not, even those strange folk who live south of the Tyne and north of Carter Bar. The older ones particularly pique my interest – those on the cusp of retirement or on its nursery slopes, or those who have been retired for years, but often appear busier than when they were earning an honest crust.

My appreciation of the retired began as a small boy, when my grandfather taught me to fly fish. His advice was profound, as I discovered one afternoon when I’d whipped the River Nidd into a cappuccino-like froth and ended up crestfallen, with no trout on the bank. He smiled and explained: “Charlie, this is not about catching fish, it’s about being by the river, being with me or a good friend, or simply watching the world go by.” By some miracle, this advice stuck and I’m still happy as Larry when near a river, burn, stream or beck, with or without a rod.

Another inspiring person well beyond retirement age was a man I knew in Somerset called Theo. I was a struggling nurseryman trying to sell plants for butterflies and bees. What I needed was a field to propagate my plants. Theo got wind of this and for the princely sum of £20 a month he let me use one of his paddocks. 

We became great friends. He was quite eccentric, and had a bath and a loo in his bedroom (a bachelor, he did what any sensible person would do and put the conveniences close by his scratcher rather than down the draughty corridor). From him I learnt that if you have an idea, no matter how far-fetched, you should follow it through as it might just work. My love of Radio 3 comes from him, as it was the soundtrack to all our ramblings. He really deserves his own article, he was such an inspiration. 

There are many more, and the time has come for me to pay them the compliment of passing on the behaviour I have seen from the successfully retired. Advice for those staring down the barrels of an uncertain future when work comes to an end, or those who find the Saga ads aren’t what they’re cracked up to be.  

First, you need to be properly attired. You will have favourite old clothes; the ones you don’t mind talking to the postman in or at a stretch collecting the newspaper. For me, that’s an old shirt, preferably with none of the original material around the collar, a V-neck sweater with more holes than wool, old cords with patches that don’t match in colour or material, and when heading outside, my Husky. This quilted coat of at least 20 winters looks like one of my old Airfix Spitfires, which had puffs of cotton wool along their flanks to indicate where they had been strafed by Messerschmitts. In my coat, the cotton wool has been caused by skirmishes with brambles, barbed wire, and small terriers. 

A squashy old cap is a good addition, or even, to use a modern term, a ‘beanie’ (a woolly hat to you and me). And for the feet I have old sailing shoes called Sebagos that seem to last for ever and look like old burnt pies, but are excellent for most occasions when walking is required.

So, you’re suitably clad. Now what to do? The answer is to head for the chair. The most comfortable one in the house. This is the first rule of retirement, and this is the place in which you can nod off at any time of the day with no guilt attached. 

For maximum snoozage, make sure you’re on top of the log situation, the dogs have been walked and your phone is turned off. And if asked what you’ve been doing all day, reply: “Training for the Olympic Egyptian PT team.” (For the uninitiated, this involves sleeping soundly like an Egyptian pharaoh in a tomb). If, pre-PT, you are caught by your other half contentedly musing about nothing and asked what you’re thinking about, the answer is: “How compatible we are, darling.”

Snooze over – now what? Well, you need to be able to extend your ability to cook, the reason being that cooking means shopping for delicious things. It also means making a wonderful mess and the opportunity to use your full range of expletives. If this stage comes on, you can do another wonderful thing and drink gin. 

Once dinner is cooked, you can impress your family and friends and perhaps get invited for a rematch (another thing about retirement – see as many of your old mates as possible). And one final bit of advice on this section: wash up. For this is the balm of rocky marriages, the forgiveness of useless flatmates, and the lubrication of the best group holidays.

Full of food, return to the chair, where you may nod off. Or read a book. Or try to remember all the books you’ve meant to read in your life never got around to. Or go back to the ones you loved as a kid, though some don’t bear the test of time very well. 

In my world, I find Wilbur Smith, Patrick O’Brien and Eric Newby are usually good places to start. You will have your own favourites, and if they’re not already on your bookshelf, go to your local independent bookshop. There aren’t many independent ones left, but what a treat when you do find one. If they don’t have The Mole by UR Myopic they will order one in. As a start try Barter Books in Alnwick for secondhand books, coffee and cake.

Now it’s time to plan things further afield, because you can go on holiday when everyone else is at work or at school, meaning everything is cheaper and less busy. I’d like to go to Montana for the fishing, and also to bring in the herd. I’d also like to visit the 34 remaining Vermeers scattered across glorious cities around the world. Or I’d go up the road to Amble, which has the longest street of independent shops in the North East, and in Spurreli’s the best ice cream parlour anywhere.

What if you can’t be chewed to flex the bus pass or use the air miles? Well, you can travel to some places from your armchair thanks to wonderful things like Negroni, French 75, Margarita, and Martini. Yes, a few strong cocktails will soon have your mind travelling to the thoughts you had consigned to the ‘do not disturb’ area of your imagination. 

This is when what I call a hi-fi comes in handy. Equally, you might have an electric friend called Alexa, or perhaps even a wireless. If so, hopefully by now you might have shared a few cocktails with your other half, some friends, or the plumber. Adequately refreshed by the cocktails, it’s time to turn up the sounds and jive, giggle or wobble your way around the sitting room until you think bedtime might be a good idea. Having successfully negotiated the perilous route to your bedroom you will be faced by your bed. Try hopping on it when it comes round for the third time, or revert to said chair.

Some final thoughts – join the Literary & Philosphical Society in Newcastle, where you will meet wonderful people and learn amazing things. (You will need your medium smart clothes for this, by the way – a jumper without holes, for example). And pick up a pen or pencil. Writing, drawing, even painting can seem daunting, but less so if you join a club, where you will find that other essential for successful retirement – friends. 

Creativity is like a muscle. The more you exercise it, the better it gets. I was musing with a fellow writer the other day about what makes us keep putting pen to paper. Who are we doing it for? Are we just on a massive ego trip? Good questions, but we concluded that the simple answer is that it is just an outlet of thoughts that don’t come out in any other way. So let them. For example, I had only a small idea of where this story was going when I started tickling the ivories on a wet evening that otherwise would have been no fun at all.

So, it is the end of day one in retirement. You are replete, you have spoken to the travel agent, and had a chat with the old friend you haven’t seen in years and with whom you will now be going to the Lit & Phil. 

You’re quite pleased with the dance moves that didn’t squash the dog or break granny’s prized vase. Your other half hasn’t had so much fun in years, nor seen you so happy. 

Now repeat for years to come, adding in new activities whenever they come your way. This will keep the mixture lively, interesting and never boring. One last thing: please share your knowledge and new-found passions with the rest of us. We need you now more than ever to keep us entertained until we too skip over the bridge of retirement.