Once upon a time this was about Me and The Boy. The it was Me, The Boy, The Cat and The Cat's Mother. And now, I'm not sure who it's about. How life changes when you least expect it!
Friday, 25 October 2019
Out of retirement...
Retirement has been a troubling few months. I've gone from Plan A to Plan B and onto Plan C. But now it has been resolved, thanks to the tax man. HMRC has come good for me. I may have given up on PR, but there's continued to be the need to look after my properties...landlord was never a popular term, so I have been newly termed a 'Property Manager' which legitimately means I can claim back all sorts of things. Including my dignity.
Tuesday, 10 September 2019
Be careful of the things you hear
Twice in the last week people have said things to me that have been quite devastating. One certainly wasn't meant to be; the jury is out on the other. My friend in the office was talking about her 9 year old daughter and said how exciting it was thinking about what she might do when she grows up and hearing her daughter's ambitions. My friend said I didn't appear to be interested. But I am, I explained, very much so...but at that age those thoughts never crossed my mind. Because it was at this age that the boy's mother died, and the only thing I could think of was how would he cope. I didn't think about whether he would be 'successful' all I wanted was for him to be happy...or at least not sad. It was an all-consuming thought. I didn't think much beyond the next day, perhaps the next week if we were lucky.
And that is how it has remained. I've always just wanted him to be happy...the thought of career has never really been thought about. I think perhaps it should have been more, but it never seemed that important. So another when another woman I know, who has a high-flying son in the finance world, said am I happy that the Boy is working driving a boat on a Norwegian fjord, I said "Yes, very". And it was true, but her reply that 'parents are happy whatever their children do' carried a feeling of 'Really? Really?' in it.
So on reflection, I feel that the Boy and I missed out not having long long discussions about how he was going to be a polar explorer, the Prime Minister, a footballer or a pop star. Which is a shame, and I wish we had. I wish there had been nothing on our minds to distract ourselves from these exciting discussions. As for driving boats on Norwegian Fjords, I am truly happy...he has found a place which brings him contentment now. Whether it will in the future who knows? But then if he'd become a banker, who's to say that would have brought him any happiness.
Tuesday, 2 July 2019
Be careful what you wish for
It feels as if it's the right time for me to restart my blog; it's been over a year since I wrote...though judging by my drafts folder, I've tried to write aplenty!
I've never fully grasped the concept of 'work'....well, why should I? I was one of those privileged middle-class kids who went to public school, then university and had a career in public relations. Given how socialist my views have become, I think I should loathe myself! Don't worry, I don't and there's no need to send for the therapist....yet.
I had never understood people who define themselves by the work they do..."I'm a lawyer", "I'm a doctor", "I'm a banker"....well who would admit to the last anyway? All around me I see friends who have reached the end of their careers...they've been dumped by their employers of many years standing in favour of younger and more energetic people, and they struggle to cope with this. They scrape around until they find something else...usually part time, usually with reduced responsibility and usually not something they would have considered. I have worked out that for some, no many, that is truly how they see themselves, and their work is something they love, enjoy and can't imagine not doing. It defines them. It defines their masculinity. Me? I'm quite different. I saw a job as a means to an end...it enabled me to do what I wanted to do, and if it was fun that was a bonus. At a job interview when I was thirty, I was asked what was my ambition. With a boldness that may have slipped into arrogance I replied "I want to retire"...quickly adding that I could only do that when I had achieved great things, whilst secretly thinking, no "I really do want to retire". I have derived the most satisfaction at work by setting up and running my own business. It was a mad thing to do at the time, but I made it work. I enjoyed that everything that went well was down to me, and when it went badly that was also down to me. But underneath, I still yearned to retire.
So at the end of last year I told my client of ten years that to celebrate our anniversary I was resigning and retiring. Ambition achieved.
Except, of course it wasn't. I still have a lot of professional commitments, do a lot of pro bono stuff, and I also have my properties to run. The properties have, in fact, in recent years become more difficult, stressful and time-consuming...they are practically a full time job now. And if something needs to be sorted, it needs to be done yesterday....my time is often not my own. The precise timing of severing my client relationship had been driven by how busy I was elsewhere, and also by not feeling the direction they were heading was the right way to go, rather than a desire to put my feet up.
My time may be flexible, but then it has been for the last twenty years, and it is generally in short supply.
And there are unexpected consequences to saying "I have retired". Peoples' view of you changes in some quite remarkable ways...some acquaintances have made it clear that I'm now irrelevant, others have made me feel like a second class citizen. Someone even suggested I hadn't stopped work of my own choice...I guess envy may have played a part there. On one of the committees I attend where I was pushing for change with resistance from the Chair, the response to me was "You have time on your hands now you're doing nothing, I still have a high pressure and responsible job".
So I've stopped saying I'm retired and have even started correcting people who comment on my retirement...it all seems a bit bizarre to them I am sure. More than that, I have questioned the wisdom of my decision...perhaps I was more defined by my work than I realised and perhaps when I have a quiet moment I am questioning my purpose more than I expected....
I've never fully grasped the concept of 'work'....well, why should I? I was one of those privileged middle-class kids who went to public school, then university and had a career in public relations. Given how socialist my views have become, I think I should loathe myself! Don't worry, I don't and there's no need to send for the therapist....yet.
I had never understood people who define themselves by the work they do..."I'm a lawyer", "I'm a doctor", "I'm a banker"....well who would admit to the last anyway? All around me I see friends who have reached the end of their careers...they've been dumped by their employers of many years standing in favour of younger and more energetic people, and they struggle to cope with this. They scrape around until they find something else...usually part time, usually with reduced responsibility and usually not something they would have considered. I have worked out that for some, no many, that is truly how they see themselves, and their work is something they love, enjoy and can't imagine not doing. It defines them. It defines their masculinity. Me? I'm quite different. I saw a job as a means to an end...it enabled me to do what I wanted to do, and if it was fun that was a bonus. At a job interview when I was thirty, I was asked what was my ambition. With a boldness that may have slipped into arrogance I replied "I want to retire"...quickly adding that I could only do that when I had achieved great things, whilst secretly thinking, no "I really do want to retire". I have derived the most satisfaction at work by setting up and running my own business. It was a mad thing to do at the time, but I made it work. I enjoyed that everything that went well was down to me, and when it went badly that was also down to me. But underneath, I still yearned to retire.
So at the end of last year I told my client of ten years that to celebrate our anniversary I was resigning and retiring. Ambition achieved.
Except, of course it wasn't. I still have a lot of professional commitments, do a lot of pro bono stuff, and I also have my properties to run. The properties have, in fact, in recent years become more difficult, stressful and time-consuming...they are practically a full time job now. And if something needs to be sorted, it needs to be done yesterday....my time is often not my own. The precise timing of severing my client relationship had been driven by how busy I was elsewhere, and also by not feeling the direction they were heading was the right way to go, rather than a desire to put my feet up.
My time may be flexible, but then it has been for the last twenty years, and it is generally in short supply.
And there are unexpected consequences to saying "I have retired". Peoples' view of you changes in some quite remarkable ways...some acquaintances have made it clear that I'm now irrelevant, others have made me feel like a second class citizen. Someone even suggested I hadn't stopped work of my own choice...I guess envy may have played a part there. On one of the committees I attend where I was pushing for change with resistance from the Chair, the response to me was "You have time on your hands now you're doing nothing, I still have a high pressure and responsible job".
So I've stopped saying I'm retired and have even started correcting people who comment on my retirement...it all seems a bit bizarre to them I am sure. More than that, I have questioned the wisdom of my decision...perhaps I was more defined by my work than I realised and perhaps when I have a quiet moment I am questioning my purpose more than I expected....
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