6. It's starting to feel like Groundhog Day

Mrs M has flown out to see her family, so it's just me and the dog for 11 days. The overwhelming emotion I felt driving away from the airport was that of a hole in the pit of my stomach, but don't tell her that as it will only go to her head. Don't want her to have an 'excess baggage' fee on the way home.

This is the end of week 4 of my trial retirement, and the big question remains what to do longer term with all my spare time? It's not an easy decision; especially when earning enough money to pay bills, support a family, have some fun, and prepare for retirement had been my key drivers for over 40 years. Even black swan events across that timespan - the dot-com bubble bursting, the economic impact of the 9/11 attacks, the 2008 banking crisis, COVID - were unexpected distractions from that all-consuming core focus.

I still want to support my children (and now their children) and we still have bills to pay, and we definitely want to have some fun... but...  

1. Context

This coming week, there'll be an extended period of navel gazing, because:

a) I won't have access to my desktop computer for 7 days. 

My home office is getting a much-needed do-over, so EVERYTHING has to be taken out and put in the spare bedroom, meaning:
- there'll be no actual book writing done.
- there will be no blog written next week.

- I might even read some actual books.

- there will be painting and organising to do once the home office is completed.

b) Armine Aslanyan says my laptop isn't even worth turning on, let alone using. In case you were wondering, she's a wonderful business tech consultant I had the pleasure of working with last year.

c) I won't have my wife to bounce thoughts off. Yes, I could talk to the dog, but he's only interested in key words like 'walk', 'teatime' and 'where is it?'

d) I caught up with Louise Lapish. Let me explain that last statement. 

"How are you intending to fill your time? What's your new purpose, because you were always very output driven?" came the seemingly easy question from the talented Louise.

"Oh, I'm waiting to get the final pension numbers first. Then I'll decide; probably sometime around September," I replied, but she wasn't letting it go that easily.

"How are you going to assess if your plan can work if you don't have a desired plan? And, between now and September, how will you make sure you've got people in your life because work has gone, pleasure in what you do because you'll have so much more time to do things, and that all-important purpose you thrive on?"

"Erm." 

Although I'm still mulling over the question, a key factor in whether I'm forever retired is affordability. It's my sole focus at the moment because, without knowing with absolute certainty what after-tax income I'll get, I'm worried I might get giddy and plan a ridiculous retirement that we can't afford unless I work another five years! What I do know though is things definitely had to change. My health stats were poor and at risk of getting worse:

* Blood pressure was regularly around 138-148 systolic (very occasionally peaking around 165), even after 4 years' on medication (including two increases in dosage).

* The GP told me I was now scoring 46 on the HbA1c test (47+ means you're at high risk of diabetes). Yes, Remi Tobun, my legendary sweet tooth was beginning to bite back.

* I searched Amazon for a leather hole-punch, to 'extend' my belt's operating length. 

Okay, the last one isn't true, but it reflects the general situation. When you're sat on your bottom for so many hours a day, usually five days a week and usually every week for months (you get the gist), and exercise primarily consists of either lifting a cup of coffee or popping down a flight of stairs to check what snacks there are in the kitchen cupboard, it's not surprising if your health declines. It needed to change so much that I'm even letting Justine Paech keep the Aussie choccy biscuits she promised me.

It's frightening to think that if I hadn't accidentally stumbled on the fact that I didn't necessarily have to work for two more years, those symptoms might have perpetuated, or even worsened. Thankfully, I spoke to my GP and things are looking a wee bit better already, but whilst changing by medication, my diet, by going to the gym twice a week AND getting more fresh air mean things are slowly improving, focusing on those won't sustain my curious mind, and my hobby of writing is not a panacea. I need to think a little further ahead and not blame anything or anyone else.

With thanks and apologies to the TV series, 'Frasier'

2. People, pleasure, and purpose

I have no idea what will satisfy these, but I do know it won't involve:

* lots of frequent overseas travel, as Mrs M is still working and will be doing so for quite some time, I expect.

* golfing once a week with some new-found buddies, although I have to admit there is a certain appeal about being on the golf course for several hours on a sunny day (probably driven by the imagery on television, rather than the reality of the British weather or my golfing prowess).

* going to bingo, because why the hell would I?

What about education? Do I have the desire and staying power to take on a degree or even the occasional part-time course that sparks an interest? If I did, how much does it cost and how much time does it take... and to what end: passing some time that could be invested in other things?

What about working? Not 'work' work, but something part-time like volunteering a day a week at the local animal sanctuary, or running a course for the (even) older folk about how to use iPads... but then I remember how much fun that can be when my mum calls me and tells me hers is not working like it used to. WhatsApp messages suddenly fly around the extended family to let them know we're on 'tech help' alert.

I used to love fundraising challenges! They were wonderful fun for 9 years, but I had energy and drive to plan, promote, and partake in lots of great stuff, but I really can't those currently (and have already let a friend down by saying no to challenge I'd previously said yes to).

3. Maybe there's a Plan B to consider?

I have no idea what this could be, but it won't involve lots of overseas travel because Mrs M is... oh, hang on... haven't we just done that? So there's no Plan B?

4. Could there be a Plan C?

I clearly haven't got a 'Plan A', so why I've listed 'C' is beyond me. Maybe I'll just use the time Mrs M is away to forget I need to think about things, and just have some fun! 

QUESTION: If you are reading this and you've been through this journey already, what insights would you be happy to share, or if you're contemplating such a decision, what's going through your mind right now? It would be great to expand this into something of interest for a wider audience.

5. Oh no, is it happening already?

I knew there was a possibility this could happen, but I wasn't expecting it to happen quite so early into my trial retirement period. Today is Thursday 23rd April and I'm thoroughly enjoying myself, or am I?

Let me give you some context (but first, make yourself a cuppa as this is quite a long entry, although it also has extra pictures in, too. You're welcome).

1. The context (some of which was in blog entry No. 4)

For several years, anxiety played a not-insignificant part in my working life (usually for good, but sometimes for bad), which occasionally cast a shadow over my personal life, too. Nothing dramatic, but enough for my wife to comment from time-to-time that I was clearly withdrawn in my own thoughts plus my posture was of someone closed-off. Sometimes I'd just not sleep well and I looked/felt very fatigued in the morning. 

I first recall feeling like it in mid-2019, and it has come and gone ever since. It was probably why I liked 'adrenaline' projects - where there's a burning platform - as they gave me the thrill of achievement with anxiety actually helping me continually drive forwards. As examples:

* The Co-op Bank years ago, when the FCA were asking for weekly updates on a problem that I was subsequently asked to lead a team to fix. Happy days, Lee McNabb and Krystian Williams.

* A race to the finish line on GDPR by a company that had initially under-resourced the work. Happyish days, Nick Passman?

* The recent finance system replacement project that had already spent 82% of its budget without reaching an agreed design, let alone to build/test/train/implement anything. I was brought onboard to rescue it, and loved it (even happier days and far too many people to mention).

Now, given my last contracted working day was Thursday 2nd April, one might expect such anxiety to fade away pretty quickly, right? Wrong. 

On Sunday 12th April, I felt that 'Sunday evening' anxiety again. I think it was because I knew I had two hour-long calls with 'work' booked for Thursday 16th, as part of an agreed handover plan. That was further compounded by a poor nights' sleep on Wednesday 15th, after reading an email from a different university that required me to prep for a call booked for the following Monday (19th, as mentioned in blog entry no. 4 - you really should be taking notes or memorising these gems). The sensation of "Risk mitigation? Familiar territory. Resource constraints and key inter-related dependencies? Been there, got the t-shirt," was comforting in a weird way, and made my brain flip back into work-mode. 

Thing is, after those calls, I felt a huge wave of relief that I didn't want to get sucked back into work. I didn't find myself yearning for those familiar 8:30am daily calls, or 10 hours sat in front of a laptop with Microsoft Teams dominating my calendar. So, on Sunday the 19th April, for the first time I can recall in the last 7-8 years, I only thought about how lovely my week ahead was going to be. Oh, this is going to be GREAT!!

2. A new sensation

If 'Fate' is reading this, don't take the p*** after I've pressed 'publish' for this entry! Irony is not your most endearing characteristic.

This week started with me feeling lighter:

* In my mind. I now have dreams about typically abnormal stuff (fighting aliens that look like flying squids, telling Jenna Ortega there are other days in the week not just Wednesday, or scoring the winning goal for Tottenham - a flying volley - but falling out of bed doing so, literally), rather than being awake into the wee hours, thinking about potentially missing deadlines or things being out of control.

* Hopefully, albeit slowly, with my weight. Loved my two 7:30am sessions at the gym. I'm trying to get into a twice-weekly routine, although it's not a regular thing just yet, but at that time of the week, it's virtually empty after the 6:15am rush. It also currently gives me time to listen to the almost published draft of my third audio book (coming to all sorts of outlets near you, very soon).

Unsubtle sales pitch

I'm also able to write regularly. Not necessarily frequently, but certainly regularly, as well as getting to see my grandsons. The dog gets more walks on the 5 days he doesn't go to a doggy play care. My wife is grateful because the household chores she hates the most get done, dinner is ready for her 4 evenings a week, and every other Wednesday is now dedicated to just the two of us. My nonagenarian mum gets more of me, too, although I'm cautious I don't turn into her daily chauffeur for everything and anything. 

But wait, there's something else on my mind. 

Yesterday afternoon, I started to feel anxious and I didn't know why. By the time I went to bed, I found myself asking do I actually need anxiety in my life in order to function well? Is it a fundamental element of my personality? My brain went into overdrive - was I getting anxious about a lack of anxiety? I've still got one more invoice to be paid for the contract, so my revenue stream hasn't evaporated yet, therefore I'm not in the situation I'm going to be in for... gulp... the rest of my life!  

It felt like there was no time to fit in gardening, to increase the frequency of writing, to add new and fun activities to my days, like playing padel... but wait: is this me trying start this brand new chapter of my life using the old rules, rather than viewing it as a brand new story. Is that the real problem? 

I guess I'll keep reflecting and thinking about all of this as I continue to try to enjoy spring and summer, as I await the final pension numbers, and then take a good look at life in September 2026; to decide if my contracting career is well and truly behind me. 

I'm pleased to announce that when I awoke this morning, I wasn't anywhere near as anxious, so let's see if it was just a 'senior moment'. Yes, I'll find time for new things and not simply try to 'fill my days'. I'll find my new purpose and my new structure, and maybe try to find some way to put some anxiety back into life, one way or the other, if that's what I need to function.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. See you next week?

4. A day trip and Pandora's Box!

After 16 months of pretty intensive work, I am grateful to be able to trial retirement. Thing is, whenever I take my foot off the gas, my body and mind seem to be both grateful and vindictive. 

On the one hand, it says 'thank you for slowing down', but at the same time I start to get aches and pains as the time pressure, general anxiety, and my own ridiculous standards fade into the background. Still, it's been a busy ol' week.   

1. That Monday morning feeling.

This week included my first non-working-Monday (Easter Monday didn't count), and yet I still experienced that same sense of nervous anticipation at 6pm on Sunday. Wasn't I supposed to be smirking with a degree of self-satisfaction that should make even me feel sick, sometime about now? Or was it because of something else? I previewed the week ahead:

- Monday would be dog-walking twice, laundry day, making beef casserole (slow cooker - a kitchen appliance, not a reflection on my skill and pace), and some pottering about.

- On Tuesday I'd be taking the 8:53am train down to campus. Not to work, but to take a bunch of lovely people out for lunch AND to celebrate one of them starting a new job outside the university. As it was, the pub was shut, so we decided to sit outside a vegan café and scoff vegan-filled bagels - they were very nice! Conversation flowed, lots of laughter, and London City Airport air traffic control deserves a bonus because they managed to drown out Cindy SIX TIMES just as she started to talk.

I'd post an AI image of the group photo, but one of the team specifically asked me not to, so I won't (even though it would have been great).

- Wednesday was for painting. I needed to put on a second coat at my eldest's, and I'd take the dog out for two walks. I'd also allocate some time to finish reading a book.

- Thursday should be my dedicated writing day, but I had work-related calls in the diary as part of my handover commitment to the programme director.

Now it actually is Thursday as I write this blog entry, and it's been a weird sort of day because of a lack of sleep last night. Let me explain.

2. Pandora's Box?

Last week, I had some fab feedback from a friend - Sam in Cheshire - who'd read the last blog entry and felt compelled to email me. See below. 

"I felt all the same feelings last April, when I stopped work. I felt absolutely in control and powerful for about 30 days, but was then struck by an overwhelming panic. My career has been such a huge part of who I am. My friends are still working and most are several years younger than me.

I felt agoraphobic! So much time and whilst the weather was delightful and I had lots of plans, the days started to feel like they had no order. I lost hours and couldn't understand why. I hit the gym, I had a few breaks away, and I had the cleanest cupboards in Cheshire, but, after six months, the recruitment contacts started to ask, "What next? Surely not retirement? I have a great opportunity for you!"

Whilst it was wonderful to see that she recognised the initial steps in my journey were the same as hers, it also made me wonder when/if that moment of reflection/panic might hit me. Well, that moment came a step closer yesterday - Wednesday - when, at around 9pm, I read an email and browsed through some attachments from an organisation that knew first-hand about my exploits leading a team to successfully recover a Finance System replacement project, in 2025. 

I'd promised to do so BEFORE I even knew there might be a retirement opportunity, given the COO had asked me personally. "Sure, I'll dedicate a day for free," I said, thinking it was a great idea to possibly pitch for some work. Well, despite logging off at 10pm last night and going to bed at 10:40pm, it took my brain over two hours to stop chatting to me. 

"What might that risk mitigation on page 4 entail?" and that's 11pm come and gone.

"How would I approach it if my assumptions about that statement, presumably instigated by the supplier, were true, given I've had experience of that supplier?" It's now 11:30pm, so I might as well get up and make myself a hot chocolate. 

"Could the core of the old project team get together again, or wouldn't that be possible?" There goes midnight.

"What sort of budget might it need?" Enough! It's 12:45am and I'm back upstairs, trying to get to sleep.

I have a follow-up call on Monday and then that's my free-time commitment finished. Surely it won't lead to anything.

 

3. Silence has never seemed so noisy

Do you ever get that feeling that you're neither awake but also not properly asleep? Welcome to the day after the Easter bank holiday weekend; a weekend that started with me feeling the in-between status; moving from work to retirement.

1. Before the bank holiday weekend

The news came through on Thursday evening that one of the pension funds still hadn't responded to the request for final numbers from my financial advisor, so, at 2am, my mind decided to work overtime on all the possible scenarios. It was not a good nights' sleep. 

* Shall I go back to work straight away, because this retirement malarkey is for old folk, not me? 

* Getting up at 4am almost every Tuesday for 2 years wasn't that bad, was it? Sleep-walking through Wednesday (which usually included a minimum of 9 Teams meetings) was fun, right? 

* Getting that Monday-morning-feeling around 6pm on a Sunday evening didn't actually spoil anything: I mean who needs 2 full days of rest and family fun? 

* What if I'm bored and rudderless by June? 

* What if it rains every day throughout summer and I'm stuck inside? 

* Might as well be talking to people and avoid bankruptcy and destitution!

Not the best mix, but thinking about scenarios is... sorry, was part of my every day job. I'd developed skills and had experiences over the previous 20 years that meant companies paid me to make plans, assess scenarios, and ensure risk mitigations were in place. Starting from a negative point of view and working my way out of it was an essential element of that career, so it's hardly surprising my attention turned to 'what if' scenarios outside of work. Can't turn off that sort of brilliance 

2. During the bank holiday

Suddenly it was Good Friday and I looked like I hadn't slept for days, but help came from a rather surprising quarter. The time? 1:46pm. The location? A hairdresser's chair in a town close to where we live. The other key person in this situation? A usually cheeky lady called Corey. 

Ordinarily, we'd have a bit of banter and try to keep the laughter decibels down (Marge from number 37 is overly protective of her peace and quiet whilst having her roots done, apparently), but, for the first 15 minutes, there was no laughter. Corey noticed a change in my usual cheeky-chappy demeanour, and reacted to it:

---------------------------------------- 

"What's up?" she asked. (Hardly a Sigmund Freud-inspired statement, but this is a personal blog).

"Just got a few things on my mind," I replied. (Hey, I heard you roll your eyes at the simplicity of the conversation. Bite your tongue and just keep reading: that's the last time I'll warn you).

"Like what?"

---------------------------------------- 

Anyway, 20 minutes later I felt I had some clarity, significantly shorter hair, AND my wife had paid. I was happy with all 3 outcomes. We drove home (my wife and I, not Corey and I - keep up) discussing a few key questions and agreeing to some actions. An email here and a 'contact form' there, all because my conundrum was framed perfectly by Corey:

"How much do you want to retire? Enough to make some lifestyle choices, or only if your lifestyle doesn't change?" she asked, illustrating her question with the very contrasting decisions her parents made. 

Clever sod.

  

3. And now?

We're told the answer to everything is '42', but the answer to my immediate mental conundrum wasn't '42, it was 'sod it'. I have made enquiries about some of my financial options, I've negotiated with my brain to trial retirement for 150 days, and decided to throw myself into it; albeit frugally. I even bought a paper diary and mapped out the 'month to a page' for April through June. JEEPERS, I'll be busy.

Frugality - now there's a subjective definition. 

The first and immediate change is to switch from my usual carefree approach to buying things. 

* Yes, those new outdoor tops do look nice, and 2-3 new ones would be a great addition to the 20 sweaters, fleeces, and mid-layers I probably already own, but do I need them?

* Wouldn't it be lovely to add HBO to the streaming services we already have, but no. 

* Do we really need two cars?

The only decadent purchases so far this month are an old-style receptionist's telephone for my soon-to-be revamped home office, and two tubs of dried mealworms (if you need to ask, it's bird food for the garden feeders, and yes they'll be weaned off them over the next 3-4 weeks as berries and seeds are naturally provided in the garden, and nearby).

For now, I'm happy to embrace whatever the next 150 days brings, knowing nothing is ever certain apart from life this very instant. At least the sun is shining, there are lots of birds in the garden, the dog is racing around after its squeaky ball, and I'm feeling a little more at peace.

I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

2. Planning for my first day of 'freedom'!

Nice to see you. Thanks for popping back for Episode 2, where I start to reflect on the things people say to you when they know you're retiring.

1. "You will have time to do all the things you couldn't before."

In less than one week, I will have finished (apart from a bit of ad hoc help I'm offering throughout April if my replacement needs to ask me some questions). I'm not sure how life will feel/be going forwards, but there will be changes to several things and I've got 4 working days left to resolve it in my head:

- I'll have no structure to my day. Microsoft ruddy Outlook held an iron-like grip on my weekdays for 90% of the 45 years of working, with the other 10% focused on looking for a new contract; hoping for the chance to be shackled by another clients' Microsoft Outlook. 

Do I pay for a post-retirement licence for Outlook or go back to my previous favourite of pen and paper? I'll probably get a pocket diary and a desk-top year planner, unless they simply remind me of how little structure there is in my retirement.

- Guilt. As pleased as my wife is for me, it's also a new experience for her. Twice a week I'll still drop her at the train station, but after that? She'll know I'm at home most of the time, whereas she's still be working, or is it that I'll know I'm at home most of the time but she's still working? Is it my guilt that could eat away at me? 

- Spoilt for choice? Okay, so I can now go to the gym twice a week and play padel at least once a fortnight, but then I also need to make sure the house is tidy and the wash basket is empty... plus there's dinner to make at least 3 times a week. I know I also promised my eldest I'd do some decorating, and of course there's writing. Spoilt for choice? Maybe I'm not going to have any free time!  

- "So, if you're retiring does that mean the next book will be ready this year?" A friend and colleague asked me that last week. Don't get me wrong, I think he likes my books and is keen to see the next one, but it's mainly because in DEADLINE and HELL HATH NO FURY, there was a character named after him and he's keen to know if he returns. By the way, the next trilogy will be a little darker, so I need a new writer image. A little less 'happy Norwegian trawler captain', but not quite as dark the ghoulish version underneath it. 

I'm sure Justin Robert Price will sort something fantastic, given he's designed 3 of the book covers used/coming up shortly, and he has some great photos that Mark Skeet took. I just hope the trilogy continues to show improvements in my writing for lovely folks like this lot (this is grid number 4 of 7 I've been able to populate with THE DEBT book selfies).

Is it a worry, Pete McG, that your cartoon image looks remarkably like your actual photo?

- Take a massage course. As I type this, my wife popped into my study; her back and one of her shoulder blades are aching. She was sat on a bench in the kitchen a couple of days this week, working, because her study/home office is getting a major overhaul - no pun intended. I'm okay at easing some of her aches and pains, but maybe it's not a bad idea? I do have an irrational fear though that they'll make me practice on fat, sweaty men with body odour, as it's unlikely that Eiza Gonzalez regularly volunteers as a massage client at the Grimethorpe Working Men's Club's NVQ evening class. 

2. "Look after yourself. You don't want to retire after all these years and then drop dead."

In the classic comedy series, Fawlty Towers, the 12th and final ever episode was called 'Basil the Rat', and there's a moment where Basil turns to his wife and says, "Can't we get you on Mastermind, Sybil? Next contestant; Mrs Sybil Fawlty from Torquay. Specialist subject - the bleeding obvious." 

That quote sums up the silent thought behind my fake smile when someone pretty-much said what the title quote is, last month. I intend to ease myself back into better shape, albeit I've never been someone who goes to the gym simply because it's good for you. I always needed a fundraising challenge as my end goal, my reason for training, thus my transformation from a 40-year old blob who struggled to get to the dessert counter at Pizza Hut, into a 50-year-old finely-honed athlete that made it to the North Pole (among other things). Sadly, the 50-year-old has turned into a bit of a 60-year-old blob, but I'll get there. 

3. "You've got loads of money, You'll be fine."

Retirement means a fixed income. Yes, there will be a couple of tax-free lump sums to make my wife and I feel the world is temporarily our oyster. It will soon become the 'security stash', just in case the dishwasher breaks down or someone in the family needs an emergency loan.

Oh, what a first-world-problem! 

It's an income and it's certainly enough to be okay (even with a mortgage still to pay). It's not as if we'll need food stamps or a ration book, and sure; popping into Waterstones or Darling Reads to browse will become a birthday joy rather than an ad hoc 'why the hell not', but we are so very lucky to have had the opportunity to work hard and earn a living wage. It's more than some people have had the chance to do. 

Maybe I need to stop worrying about our future life and find something to focus on. Something that still needs my brain, but doesn't guzzle money. There was one idea I've had for years (great logo design work from Howard Rushfirth by the way, as always). I wonder if there's any mileage in it still? Hmm, something for me to mull over, now I have time to do so. 

Right, that's it for this blog entry. This is my final weekend where there's a Monday morning feeling to come. If you need me once we hit April, you'll find me in a corner of my study (see below for a cartoon interpretation of a photo of it); reading and researching for one of my upcoming books or reading one of the twenty books I've bought; telling Mrs M I'm saving them for retirement. Or maybe I'll be plotting Project Footprint (or dreaming about it - it is a very comfy chair). 

1. On the verge of a big decision

Welcome back, or simply 'welcome' if this is your first time visiting this blog.

The entries on here used to be about my personal journey as I prepared for various fundraising challenges back in the 2010's, but life is about to take a new twist. Hopefully it's a positive one - retirement - but there is a rollercoaster ahead if you believe what the experts say.

1. Today is Saturday 21st March 2026.

Right now, I'm weary. Weary as hell. I've been self-employed for almost 25 years (after a fairly interesting corporate employment history) and the last two assignments have drained me. One of them was also my crowning glory as a project lead, but it was still draining, and now I'll also be doing work for the third Sunday out of four. I've simply had enough. 

I thought I had a few more years of hard slog to go before retirement, but a recent unplanned review brought a pleasant surprise. In fact, on my way to an appointment to the doctors a couple of Fridays' ago, I'd go so far as to say I wanted to both laugh and cry with relief that I might be able to stop work, completely. Of course, once the initial euphoria faded, I had to be sure. After 3 hours of checking, re-checking, splashing water on my face, drinking another coffee and then re-re-checking, it still seemed viable.

Years ago, when I was an employee of various companies, I was lucky enough to get what's known as a final salary pension. Those of you under 40, please open a new tab and Google it (or whatever search engine you prefer), then spit feathers. I've had several offers over the last 10 years to 'buy me out' of them from the pension funds themselves, but final salary pensions are pure gold! Someone I've now spoken to (a qualified financial advisor, not 'Bob' down the bookies) is doing a final check, but it's looking positive, so I've decided to look into the new personal journey that lies ahead.

2. What lies ahead

According to some guy on YouTube who looked sensible, dressed what M&S is now calling 'sharp casual', and spoke in a soft, educated voice (so bound to be true, right?), I have 4 stages to go through:

Stage 1 - holiday mode. This is when you wake up smiling, listen to the cars of those setting off for work, and then smile even wider. Apparently, it can last up to a year, but then the lack of purpose starts to loom and weekdays and weekends begin to blur. Thankfully, or rather sadly for her, my wife will still be working, so smiling should be limited to a short, sympathetic smile of guilt. Yes, she's a lot younger than me (AI don't lie in this case).

Stage 2 - Loss and lost. A friend of mine once told me he wasn't looking forward to retirement, as he had a dedicated work ethic (as did his father) all his life and viewed retirement as possibly the risk of sitting in a chair to gently rot. Another guy I know has been retired a few years and does a 30-40 mile bike ride every morning before tending to his bees and... I don't know... I must ask him what else he does, beyond applying chamois cream to what must be a tough-as-leather crotch.  

Stage 3 - Trial and error. You start to fill your time with things you like, or might like. Maybe this is the time you decide retirement isn't for you and go work part-time in a call centre, a supermarket, or setting up an evening course at the local community college to teach old ladies how to use an iPad.

Stage 4 - Reinvent and revitalise. You've tried things, but maybe customers dialling the call centre drove you to distraction using 'like' as a frequent filler word and your manager told you to stop acting like Miriam Margolyes correcting Will.I.Am (you either understand that reference or you don't). The main thing is you start to refine what success in retirement actually feels like.

Stage 5 - the end. No, not death! I mean you get to the end of your quest and retirement becomes something you embrace.

3. As the narration on Adam West's 'Batman' always used to say...

So, if you want to see how the rollercoaster ride goes, you're in the right place. See you again in a few weeks ('Same time, same channel, to see if Batman can escape The Penguin's deadly trap') which is also when I hope to confirm retirement AND be entering into my holiday mode.

My thanks to ChatGPT for creating most of the images.

Not for all the tea in China (part 1)

1. Introduction.

The Director nodded cautiously; seemingly in agreement, but not quite committing to the initiative in a way that would allow us to move forward at the pace we desired. His team had not missed that important distinction, but they too seemed pleased we had progressed and avoided his 'right to veto'; which was the primary objective of the update.

We all smiled and thanked each other for a constructive session; promising to keep the other Executive stakeholders up to speed. Everyone rose from their chairs ... except me. I tried, but I felt a tell-tale twinge and the strength in my lower back muscles momentarily vanished.

I braced my arms and pushed my hips forward a couple of millimetres; engaging my core, mid-back muscles and glu-max, to take the strain. This allowed me to ease out of the chair. It was all invisible and seamless to my fellow attendees, but it wasn't the first time it had happened that week.

For the previous 6 weeks there had been occasions when I'd woken up at 4 or 5am; thinking whether I should continue to commit my body to completing the Magnificent 7 UK, but by the time I'd got out of bed and was heading to work, my head had said "Yeah, of course I should. Bring it on".

That is, until yesterday morning.

And so, on the morning of Saturday 10th December, my head started to listen to my body and I took the decision to pull out of 6 of the 7 challenges in The Magnificent 7 UK. 

2. WTF or the voice of understanding?

The decision seemed so easy once I'd made it; almost a relief. The same relief I felt when I finally decided to sell Manor Farm House back in 2009; to eliminate the risk I faced in the financial crisis.

A self-inflicted pressure had been lifted, but was soon followed by a dangerous cocktail of guilt, the feeling I'd given up and the question of how others would react to my decision, after so much build-up for the event.

- What the hell do you mean you're not doing it? Man-up!
- I demand my money back.
- Oh you're such a failure.
- Hah, never thought you could do it.

I had a burning desire to email people and let them know: sponsors, charities, participants, suppliers such as AHOY and iPowerboat ... and of course other friends who have been great supporters over the last 6 years.

Twenty eight people and companies contacted and slowly but surely my phone started to beep with emails and messages. My hand quivered with nerves, in case the first replies meant the reaction was negative. I should have known that I had nothing to worry about thus far.

Whilst a couple of sponsors wanted their money refunding (and totally understandably), most participants were not only supportive, but went so far as to swap onto the one remaining challenge; tell me to keep their deposit and give it to a charity or simply tell me they knew how hard a decision it must have been to take.

Of all the responses, as kind as they all were, it was the one from a charity that moved me the most (albeit several other people said similar things) and boy, did it move me:

"Health and family come first. No-one should do anything that puts those at risk. You have done amazing things that charities have benefitted greatly from. It's now time for you to think about your own personal health and making this decision, whilst I know was probably difficult, is the right thing to do."

Another email added "Fully understand ... that point in life when you either recognise your strengths/limitations or you become an arse. Everyone gets older; there are very few that get wiser."

And other responses came in; asking if the Yorkshire 3 Peaks walk could still go ahead (as a fun event, with others joining the Great Wall of China team on their reunion hike). How could I say no, but that's where I have to draw the line ... so maybe you could say I'm not doing 5 of the 7.


3. Happier times ahead and happy times behind me.

The one challenge I'm still using to fundraise from the original Magnificent 7 UK is The Capital Tour - over 600 miles on the 7-seat circular bike.

It's a dream I've had since 2013 and something I want to say the following about: if you do nothing else then I ask EVERYONE that I know to please help me make this final adventure a successful finale to my challenges.

I have invested a lot of time, money and even spilled blood to achieve what I've achieved over the last 6 years. Lots and lots of people have been involved in my adventures and, between us, we've raised almost £110 000, but I still want to make the last one the best ever!

I'll share more info with you in 'Not for all the tea in China (part 2)'; including a look back at the training ride with the team from Communisis and remembering the amazing Great Wall of China Trek. Until then, thanks for your continued understanding and I'll hope to be able to look back at all my adventures this time next year.

Until then I'm having fun with the new type of challenge in my life - planning and arranging things for others, such as Jon Newall's #Lockyers2London hike - one of maybe a few challenges I won't be taking part in, but I'd still like to be involved in.

It's a sad sort of blog entry, but then a new chapter beckons in life. Time to look forward with no regrets: knowing the past is full of wonderful memories. After all of these (from 2009-2016) ......

..... there's just one more to go!

Sleep tight x