7. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Welcome back. You've missed quite a lot, so let's catch up on the key points.

When you saw the image above, you unconsciously sang 'Ahh-e-ah-e-ahh, waa waa waah', didn't you.

1. The Good

Last week, I caught up with someone I haven't seen in over 12 years, but we quickly fell into a warm, open, humorous and honest discussion about a whole bunch of stuff over brunch at Brancusi in York. The chat included some things that are not appropriate/too deep for an open blog like this, so I'll refer to the other person as 'David' (although that is his actual name). 

He was his usual tall, slim, dry-witted, stylish self - we have so much in common - which I... hang on, did someone just chortle at that comparison? Anyway, David had some interesting perspectives on a couple of things, and the one I want to share on here is my reflection on our debate about retirement as a construct: a discussion I subsequently replayed in my head on the train ride home, and still am from time to time. 

The traditional premise is that retirement is a point in time when the government formally triggers a regular monthly financial supplement to whatever private pension one might have had the opportunity to accumulate. Aligned to that is usually the dramatic cutover of an employee logging out for the final time on a Friday evening, and then waking up on a Monday as a 'free person' who can take the dog walking or fly out to Portugal and play golf whenever they want to, or have a lay-in every day whilst those poor sods next door can be heard climbing into their car and joining 'rush hour'.

But, as a juxtaposition, what if that isn't retirement in the 2020's? If 'new retirement' might include ad-hoc paid assignments as and when, aren't you simply just working part-time and not retiring? 

"What does retirement mean to you, Geoff?" David asked, adding that he wasn't far behind me age-wise.

"No longer working and with freedom of choice, within a budget, although not simply filling my time for filling times' sake," I replied rather smugly.  The sweet and yummy honey oozing off my French toast probably wasn't as sickening as the smug look on my face. 

"But filling it how, and are you really never going to work again?"

Damn, that made me stop and realise... never? That could be a helluva long time! 

We went on the talk about the reality of never working again, of not so much burning bridges by being rude or offensive to previous clients, but more the consequential burning of bridges by saying goodbye to work colleagues, friends, and a wider client network that had been carefully crafted over many years. 

I've been really lucky over the last 15 years of my self-employed career that people like Zoe Hunter, Jon Bowen, and Stephen Vickers had offered me multiple assignments without the need to enter the hell that is anonymity; thus being at the mercy of recruitment agency database algorithms. Even before them though, there was the lovely Linda Pizura at the Cooperative Bank who always seemed happy to let me know of impending assignments, and my friend Sam Holden who I worked with/for THREE times. 

So, does retirement mean walking off into the sunset, looking back in a few years wishing I had done a little bit more rather than becoming an increasingly distant memory to people, or is hanging onto my work persona just me being a fraidy-cat? Or does retirement for me mean not regretting using the free time and relatively good health I can still enjoy, and coping with a fixed income for the rest of my life (see 3b, below)? 

The conversation David and I had over a couple of hours was a lot fuller than I've described, and filled with laughter (given his cheekiness) as we reflected on things, but it has got me wondering. 

I'm meeting Sam Holden for lunch in mid-June. I look forward to hearing her perspective, given she's gone through the 'retired-not retired' conundrum, and now she's back working. Does she love it, or does she miss the lazy mornings sipping coffee on the balcony as she listens to the birds singing in her exquisite garden? I'm sure the topic will also come up in conversation this Wednesday, when a few work friends and I gather for a curry. Watch this space.

2. The Bad

I was supposed to be investing some of my new-found freedom into my writing, wasn't I. Hmm. This is Week 7 of trialling retirement and, so far, I have spent just ONE day writing. To be fair, I am busy with some 'book' things:

* Last Saturday, I spent from 9am to 4pm with 22 other Yorkshire writers at the 'Promoting Yorkshire Authors' extravaganza. Best days of book sales ever!

* Thursday 21st May, it's my first local radio interview as an author.

* On Friday 5th June, I'm one of 3 authors talking to an audience at Harrogate Library.

* Saturday 6th June, it's time for the brilliant and 4th year of 'Murder in the Rhubarb Triangle': an all-day event at Wakefield Library. See image below.  

If you don't know, RC Bridgestock (the lead authors) is the couple behind over 20 books, and were voted 8th in the WH Smith Readers' Best Crime Authors of All Time Awards. Now that's some serious shoulders to rub! Not literally as I think that could count as sexual assault, but you get what I mean.

Adding the time to see the twins, extra stuff for my mum, having a weeks' worth of work done on my study/home office, the number of people and time it takes to catch-up with them, the various errands I've run, washer loads and drying, AND all the meals I've cooked/ household chores I've done... I think I deserve a rest!

Sorry, is that an army of single working mums (or dads) hammering on the door, shouting "And now you have SOME idea of what we do have to do every single day"? Fair point! 

I am behind where I wanted to be with my writing though, so once Mrs M and I have had our relaxing week in London at the end of May, it's back to at least one day a week of writing. I'll also have to decide how much of my time am I going to dedicate to appearance opportunities and book selling fairs - I don't want to miss out on them, but I also don't want to commit to an agenda for 2026 that I then can't sustain (time-wise or financially).

3. The Ugly

There are TWO ugly things!! 

3a. Pension information - As you possibly know, a big factor in my decision whether to prolong my retirement is what are the pension numbers. I think I know, but I want a professional to tell me how best to juggle the money we have. Eight weeks later, and I'm still waiting, but it's not the professional financial advisor's fault. I'm now waiting for a gawd-darn pension company to sort their ruddy lives out and provide the financial advisor with the information we need. 

* It's ugly because ReAssure (the company in question) sent me annual summaries of that pension to my home address in 2022, 2023, and 2024... only to tell me (in 2026) that they couldn't share my pension information with my financial advisor because they didn't have an address for me on their system.

* It's ugly because they then had to send me a 'Change of Address' form before they'd do anything and, when I returned it with a letter pointing out they had had my correct address (so how come they'd lost it?), I got a standard letter back telling me that keeping my personal information up-to-date was crucial and any future changes should be communicated in a timely manner.

* It's ugly because now they have that form, they've sent the minimum of information to the financial advisor and to me, which is of no bloody use whatsoever! Send me an annual summary and options! 

I am, of course, being the very picture of patience.

3b. Fixed income - Back in 2001, when I first launched as a self-employed contractor, I knew there would be highs and lows regarding income. This was evident just 2 weeks after leaving corporate employment, with the September 11th attacks. I subsequently billed a total of just £400 for the whole of the following 9 months and, as we all know, that wasn't the only black swan event of the last 25 years, but I remained positive and fought my way through to being moderately successful. I always felt that there was work just around the corner and, thankfully, there usually was.

Four months short of what would have been the start of my 26th year in business, I'm now sat pondering what the future holds. The very final client invoice has now been paid into my business account and yet I now have unexpected dental treatment, the dog needs to see a vet and that could result in an x-ray plus medication, and I'm clenching my jaw tightly as I pause to consider whether to buy something I've seen: do I want it or do I actually need it? I glance at the savings account and swallow hard... is this what it's going to feel like for the next however many years I remain alive? 

Maybe there is something I can try to do. Whether I decide to pull the trigger on this approach or not (and whether anyone is remotely interested in the approach I could take) remains to be seen. Will it be this image cum September...

... or this one?

Only time will tell. See you again in a couple of weeks, hopefully.

6a. Feel free to reply

One day after blog entry No. 6 (where I reflect on having no 'what to do with your retirement' plan) and already I've had:

* an email (that started with "Right... you listen to me." Crikey!!)
* four people sending WhatsApp messages, 
* two Facebook messages, including a list of 3 specific ideas
* four texts from someone confirming they had a similar conundrum, but with 4 ideas.

It got me wondering - if I can get that reaction WITHOUT asking for suggestions, I wonder what reaction I'll get by asking for your thoughts and ideas... but not this one, please. Well, possibly not this one, and definitely NOT things that cost a lot of money!

Well, what are you waiting for??? Type!

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 imagine doing those again, 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).