retirement musings

I’m a little nervous about posting this as I don’t usually go in for so much self-indulgent rambling online, but writing it has been helpful to me and it’s not offensive to anyone, so I’m going for it. I should warn you that if you are easily irritated by other people’s navel-gazing, you really shouldn’t read any more! # It’s a year since I retired. Fortunately the kind enquiry “how’s retirement?” is beginning to dwindle, because I’m afraid the answer still has to be “I have no idea”! To be honest I don’t think I have adjusted yet, though as my daughter no. 3 wisely remarked when I voiced this thought a couple of weeks ago “What would that adjustment look like?” Well quite! # There have been some very surprising things. My job was moderately enjoyable and I did it reasonably well, but it was never what you would call a “career”. Yet I find that my image of myself was more shaped by my working identity than I realised. I worked from home as the part-time Finance Manager for a firm of architects, so I was used to being home alone and planning my time and getting to the end of a day and feeling that something had been achieved. There’s no longer an external discipline to make that happen.

Before I retired I did a lot of thinking about it, making lists of hopes and fears (which look remarkably similar to the ones Steve has enumerated in his thoughts on retirement). I think my biggest fear was of “drifting” – I’d always envisaged retirement as my opportunity to get on with the things that work prevented me from doing. I wanted to do more textile work and more “art” and above all I wanted to discover whatever it is that will really motivate me and make me feel alive. After a while I realised that like all of life’s major changes – marriage, parenthood, bereavement – no amount of planning and anticipation prepares you for the emotional journey of the real thing; you just have to do it. This fear has definitely been realised! I know myself well enough to know that given the chance I do just drift. I have always found it hard to motivate myself and I get easily distracted, rushing on to the next task before the first one has been completed (which is why I’ve always had such an untidy desk and the kitchen always looks as if the scullery maid’s on holiday). This would be fine if I actually enjoyed the drifting, but so often time is just frittered away on the computer. (I’ve given up solitaire for Lent which has been a great discipline, but I haven’t managed to bring my need to “just check my emails and have a quick look at facebook” under control.) I think to myself that I would like to go and visit the Museum and Art Gallery in Cardiff (a modest train journey) or to go to the British Museum (rather further, more planning required), but the days pass and I still haven’t done them. I haven’t done a great deal in the way of textile work either – and certainly no “art”. So, surprise, surprise – it wasn’t work stopping me from doing those things; it was me. Lack of drive, lack of commitment, these are the things I’ve always berated myself for, so why should I change just because I’ve retired?

#

Another thing which has surprised me is that retirement has felt more like an ending than I thought it would. Our move to Bristol, retiring at sixty – these were things that were supposed to mean that retirement would be a new start with lots of lovely things to look forward to, rather than an end. Over the past year there have been several episodes when I have felt I was balanced on the edge of falling into depression. This has both alarmed me (I really don’t want to go there again) and made me angry with myself – it seems so self-indulgent; my life is fine, I have people I love, who love me, I have things to do and things to look forward to, I am not without value – there is nothing to be unhappy about. And yet, and yet... I have come to the shocked conclusion that although it’s not something I believe with the conscious, rational part of me there is a deep subconscious part that has absorbed the prevailing world view that work and economic value are the things that make us worthwhile.

#

I recently heard an older woman say that she would love to see the northern lights and my inner-meanie said to me “Well that’s not going to happen, is it? She’s too old and she can’t afford it.” And then I felt ashamed and wondered when I started thinking that older people couldn’t have dreams which would never be fulfilled. I suppose a lot of life is about managing expectation – having dreams, but not being unrealistic. Over the years there are many things that we realise we can’t have or do because of money or circumstance or ability and as we get older more of the dreams of our youth have to go on the “never going to happen” pile. So has there been anything good about the past year? Yes, of course, lots of things. I went on a wonderful retreat/reading week at Sheldon, Steve and I enjoyed a brief holiday in Wales and lots of days out during his summer holidays last year. We have seen friends and enjoyed time with family. My days aren't spent entirely aimlessly because I look after our grand-daughters one day a week; I do Stu’s book-keeping, I’m treasurer of Malago WI, we have a weekly meal and discussion of faith issues with a group of friends, I’ve joined a community choir, I read and knit relentlessly and I have done some quilt-making. So actually life is full and rich, it just needs a bit more focus. # Coincidentally, while I have been drafting this post our great friend Si posted a link on facebook to a talk/blog post called Steal like an Artist. There’s some real practical wisdom in there and I am particularly attracted by the advice not to wait until you “know yourself” before you start doing the things you want to do and by the suggestion that you should project the image of the thing you want to be in order to become it. I had a conversation with someone yesterday who asked me if friday is my day off. When I said that I am retired she expressed surprise because “you always look busy and organised”. In the subsequent “what did you do when you were working” exchange she confessed that she had thought I was a psychologist! (I have absolutely no idea why and neither did she seem to). I’m obviously projecting some kind of efficient but empathetic image, which is a comfort I suppose! # I think it’s time I dusted down and resurrected my Fifty before Sixty manifesto and think about a new set of goals and targets. I need to dream some new dreams and make some of them come true. # PS. Blogger is having some serious problems with paragraph spacing at the moment (as others have observed). This is my third attempt at getting paragraphs where I want them to be and I don't hold out that much hope for it being right even now.

patchy progress

After what seems a very long time I have managed to get back into my sewing workshop this week. It felt very good to be busy down there again and I've made some progress on a patchwork quilt.

The patterned fabrics are so called "vintage" fabrics from a retro shop in St Ives. I think I recognise them as 1970s bedlinen. The plain fabrics have been mined from my own fabric stash.
Influenced by Jane Brocket's visit to Malago WI last year and her book The Gentle Art of Quiltmaking, I've used a Half Log Cabin design for the squares.

Now that the central patchwork rectangle has been put together I'm just planning to add borders until I decide I've done enough.

faith healer

We went to see Faith Healer by Brian Friel at the Bristol Old Vic last night. It’s a powerful piece with several themes: love and friendship, loyalty, what it is to be an artist and, of course, faith. I was struck during the play by the assertion of the character Francis Hardy (the healer in question) that most of the sick people who came to his “performances” were not there in faith; they hadn’t come to be healed. In fact they were there for a sort of despairing last resort – to have their incurability confirmed so that they could finally give up all hope. This idea is picked up in Joe Spence’s programme notes where he says:

“Throughout Faith Healer we are drawn back to the question of what it is to lose faith. It is suggested that people come to the faith healer not for healing through faith, nor even for the prolongation of hope, but for their elimination. The paradox of the human condition is that it is easier to live without faith or hope than to be eternally faithful or hopeful, and therefore always open to betrayal.”

This resonated strongly with me and could be interpreted rather depressingly. For me, however, it seemed somehow positive. It’s an acknowledgement that faith and hope are difficult choices, involving hard work and constant reassessment and recommitment, but nevertheless worth the effort.

As so often happens, these musings were picked up in another context. This Sunday in the church calendar is Candlemas, otherwise known as the Feast of the presentation of Christ in the Temple. Luke’s gospel tells the story of Joseph and Mary taking their young child to be presented at the temple in Jerusalem for the first time. In Jerusalem an old man called Simeon had been waiting many years for the coming of the Messiah. He had received a promise that he would not die before he had seen the Messiah. Finally the long years of faith, hope, prayer and devotion were rewarded by the revelation that this child was indeed the long-awaited Christ. The sermon reminded us what an amazing work of faith Simeon performed in holding on for so many years to a promise that he might have dismissed as imagination or wishful thinking.

I’m a very long way from having that sort of faith, but I do nevertheless take comfort from Simeon’s prayer of praise:

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

made in bristol

I didn't blog much of my knitting and stitching in2010 and have been reviewing everything I have made over the course of the year. This post has taken me a couple of weeks to write, partly because it's quite long with a lot of pictures, but also because it seems rather boring. By comparison with many of the bloggers I read, I have made very little. However, since the intention of this blog is for my own "makerly" encouragement, I have decided to stick with it - post and bore the pants off them! (Having posted this blog I find that it's dated 1 January, which was when I started it. It was actually finished and posted on 16 January 2011.)

The year started with two projects that should have been made in time for Christmas 2009, but didn't quite meet their deadline.

First Hannah's cowl neck sweater, which doesn't photograph well, but I know has been much worn over the course of the year. The reason it took so long to knit is that it's a strange honeycomb rib made by purling one and then knitting the stitch below. This makes for a lovely cushiony fabric, but takes forever to grow.

Then the lovely Elijah (blogged here) for Rosa.

For Ruth's birthday in March I used some lovely fabric from Fabric Rehab to make an "art-to-go" travelling sketchbook and pencils set. (Previously blogged here).

Later in March after my own birthday I made three quick crochet flower brooches for my lovely daughters who had worked so hard to give me a wonderful party. I didn't photograph them, but they were similar to these, with the addition of pretty buttons bought at the Tobacco Factory Market. These crochet flowers came later in the year when Malago WI had a "learn to crochet" evening and I made up a few samples to show what might be achieved.

I made myself some cosy socks in a soft ethical yarn I had bought in St Ives on our holiday in 2009. I loved them and then felted them beyond use in a 40 degree wash (boo)

For the Southbank Arts Trail last May I made a few felt tea cosies and some coffee pot cosies.

June saw the long awaited completion of my Cortona quilt. (Previously blogged and photographed) and I made little cardigans for the family's newest baby and her older cousin. I've managed somehow not to photograph them.

After that my woodland scarf came off the back burner and was finished in time for scarf weather. This was followed by the alpaca scarf that I started making at the beginning of 2009. Once finished it was admired consistently by daughter no. 2, so I have given it to her - though it is modelled here by her husband F.

I very nearly missed the Christmas deadline again with my final knit of the year. This time it was Ruth's turn for some complicated hand-knitting and I finished the Fiore di Notte armwarmers on Christmas Eve! (This terrible photograph was taken in a great rush on my own arm, before hastily wrapping)

My sewing machine had some serious problems this year and I finally took it to be expensively mended in November. Despite this it managed a few bits and pieces (and I also borrowed R's machine.) The giraffe bag made for D's October birthday

was closely followed by a lion bag for his brother M.
I'm hoping that now it's mended, with a needle that drops correctly onto the fabric below, I will make slightly quicker progress on the quilt I have started to make from fabric I bought when we were in St Ives in 2009. The fabric from a stylish retro shop was designated "vintage", but I balk at describing sheeting I can remember from my teens and twenties as vintage, so I'm trying to think of it as simply recycled!

my year in reading - 2010

Forget the 100 books that the BBC thinks most of us won't have read. These are the books that I actually did read this year. As ever, it's not a particularly edifying list - a mixture of old and new; "literary" and trash; mostly fiction; a light dusting of "improving" books. For me, reading is less about learning and improvement and almost entirely about immersing myself in story - being the people, living the lives, exploring the places that one life on this earth (and my cautious nature) will not afford me. As I did last year, I have highlighted the books I particularly enjoyed.
There are a couple here that I thought were particularly terrible, but I'm not going to single them out!

Val McDermid, The Wire in the Blood

Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Meera Syal, Anita and Me

E Annie Proulx, The Shipping News

Muriel Spark, The Girls of Slender Means

Penelope Wilcock, The Wounds of God

Jennifer Johnston, The Captains and the Kings

Paul Auster, Travels in the Scriptorium

Wm Paul Young, The Shack

Cormac McCarthy, The Road

John Bell, 10 Things they never told me about Jesus

Mary Lawson, The Other Side of the Bridge

Alexander McCall Smith, The Comfort of Saturdays

Barack Obama, Dreams from my Father

David Lodge, Deaf Sentence

Peter Owen Jones, Letters from an Extreme Pilgrim

Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall

Maeve Binchy, The Copper Beech

Elizabeth Knox, The Vintner's Luck

Elinor Lipman, The Pursuit of Alice Thrift

Jane Brocket, The Gentle Art of Quilt Making

Adrian Plass and Jeff Lucas, Seriously Funny

Arthur Japin, The Two Hearts of Kwasi Boachi

Ian McEwan, Amsterdam

Rose Lynas (ed), Votewise Now

Patricia Cornwell, The Scarpetta Factor

Elizabeth Noble, The Reading Group

Deboragh Moggagh, Smile

Mary Ann Schaffer, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Iris Murdoch, The Unicorn

Nicola Upson, An Expert in Murder

C P Snow, The Affair

Ian Adams, Cave Refectory Road

Bristol Short Story Prize Anthology

Mitch Albarn, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

Alexander McCall Smith, The Lost Art of Gratitude

A S Byatt, The Children's Book

Richard Holloway, Looking in the Distance

Kate Atkinson, When Will There Be Good News?

Agatha Christie, Postern of Fate

Agatha Christie, The Clocks

Chris Stewart, Driving Over Lemons

Julian Barnes, Cross Channel

Madeleine Wickham, The Gatecrasher

Joanna Trollope, The Girl from the South

George Eliot, Silas Marner

Roddy Doyle, Paula Spencer

Anita Shreve, Testimony

Barbara Kingsolver, The Lacuna

scarf weather

It's scarf weather and I've finally been able to wear my woodland scarf. It's been on the needles (interspersed with other things) since April last year.

I'm pleased with the result, though it's definitely a scarf whereas the pattern implied a shawl. I will probably get more wear from a scarf and it's lovely and long.

Statistics:

1 skein fyberspates scrumptious lace 2ply, which is a merino/silk blend

3.25mm needles

pattern: Woodland Shawl by Nikol Lohr

reality and unanswerable questions

As she was drawing the other day, Iris idly asked me “why are we real?” It seemed unfair to ask a three-and-a-half year old to define reality, but I did ascertain that she meant “real” as opposed to dolls and toys. I suppose I could have explained that dolls and toys are real – real plastic and wood and so on, but the difference is that we are living sentient beings. However I didn’t think of it at the time because I accepted that her question was really the more philosophical question – why am I me? It took me straight back to my own childhood wonder at the fact that I was me rather than someone else and to my later questioning of the fact that I had been fortunate to be born in the relatively well off UK as opposed to, say, a poverty-stricken warzone. These are the questions that lead to “who made God?” or “what came before the Big Bang?” I’m afraid I ducked the discussion that we could have had by saying that I didn’t think that any of us really know the answer. Thinking about it since I think my answer was true, if maybe a little unhelpful to a child trying to make sense of her world. Indeed I’m just embarking on a book by Richard Holloway (formerly Bishop of Edinburgh – now largely faithless) Looking in the Distance which explores these very questions. Maybe I’ll be better equipped for the discussion next time!

the photo is one I took on my recent retreat in Devon