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:

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"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?"

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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.