I have made no secret of my desire to retire to the beautiful Greek island of Crete and live out my latter years in sunshine, with the amazing food and a slower lifestyle. I hate the climate in the UK, the greyness and the sheer pressure and grind of daily life.
Although to a certain extent when you aren’t there yet, the grass is always greener on the other side, my guess is that life is definitely better in the Med and although they may not be intrinsically happier, by and large people are healthier and more relaxed despite the ridiculous working hours many put in over the summer months.
Many other Brits (and those intrepid souls from other nations, of course) have clearly felt as I do about living in the land of their birth and have taken the enormous step of emigrating and living somewhere which fits more with their psyche and the way of life they wish to lead. It is not a step to be taken lightly, as it involves leaving your family and friends for a foreign country with new traditional and customs and probably learning to at least a basic level of proficiency a new language. Top that with a different alphabet in Greece, and you are looking at a significant life change. But many have gone ahead and taken the plunge.
I regularly view an expat website for Crete which I believe was set up to help those wishing to emigrate and live there, and provide an information exchange for those who already do so. And the point of this rather rambling introduction to this blog is that the people that use this expat website would appear to be a bunch of whinging moaners unhappy with their lot who bicker about the slightest thing and who, if you choose to take notice of them, would put anyone off going to Crete at first glance.
What is the matter with these people? They are living in Paradise and what’s more, a paradise of their choosing. They have a lifestyle within which they (largely) don’t have to work, have time to indulge their hobbies and presumably enjoy the wonderful food which is grown locally and a climate which mostly eradicates health grumbles such as bronchial difficulties (unless smoking related, of course) and rheumatism. For nine months of the year, the sun shines in a reassuringly dependable way and for quite a bit of the winter it is amazingly mild. Yet they complain.
Perhaps it’s a British disease, being a professional complainer? It is very tempting to post an answer on this website which says “If you don’t like it, then go back to where you came from” but of course the likelihood is that they can’t. The astronomical cost of housing in the UK probably prohibits it, and life is still more expensive here even though prices in Greece have caught up in some aspects of life such as petrol and the supermarket.
I suspect these people retired in their early fifties or maybe even sooner on reduced pensions (because they took them early) which gave them a fantastic lifestyle in southern Europe 15 or 20 years ago, but which has now been eroded by falling exchange rates, the recession generally and rising prices whilst their pensions have stayed relatively stagnant or increased only by UK inflation rates which are lower than those for most of Europe (Germany possibly excepted). So now they’re hard up, having to tighten their belts and blaming anyone but themselves.
It’s also a fact that the expat community is small and tight knit, an advantage when you need expertise or assistance from someone that speaks your language but a distinct disadvantage when it comes to integration into a new country and broadening your mind, as small groups within wider cultures become cliquey and very parochial. I have never forgotten an incident about 8 years ago when we bought our house, speaking to an English couple that owned a business in Crete (but obviously hated it) who said to me “Well, you don’t have to mix with the locals you know. There’s plenty of Brits around”! I was staggered; why wouldn’t I want to mix with local people, integrate myself with their society and learn their language? I love their country enough to want to live there, and it’s almost a duty to do those things. If you don’t, you are as bad as immigrants to this country who keep within their own communities, don’t learn English but take our benefits and healthcare. We all criticise those people, where ever they are from, and this couple were doing exactly the same thing; I bet they would have been the first to criticise if their position was reversed.
It is a salutary lesson that although The Hubby and I want to retire early we are determined that we will have a good income upon which to do so, so that we can enjoy life without watching the pennies too much. It simply isn’t realistic to expect to live a good life as a couple on 800 euros per month including all your living expenses and taxes which some of these people want to do – it isn’t the 1980s anymore! Going out and socialising costs money as does indulging in hobbies, even relatively solitary and sedate ones such as gardening, sewing or cooking. What is the point of loads of free time and early retirement if you have to restrict your social life to once a week and then only one or two drinks? You need contingency money and also a financial comfort blanket in case of ill heath or emergencies.
You must also embrace your new country just as much as you would embrace life within your village or town in England. Gaining new friends and experiences keeps your mind and body active and keeps life fresh and interesting. What is the point in moving somewhere else just to stagnate and be as miserable as you would have been in England?
We have a medium term plan to get there, and I definitely will not degenerate into an expat moaner (I am currently an in-pat moaner, if there is such a thing). My expectations are realistic, and I will plan, plan, plan and plan again to ensure I’ve got the money and decisions right (The Hubby will probably agree with me, although I will consult him!). The earliest I can do it is 2 ½ years’ time, and it can’t come soon enough.
Several more sleeps……
Monday 16 September 2013
Friday 13 September 2013
TV heaven! I'm easily pleased.....
Twenty things that make me happy when watching the TV
1. Pointless (which is definitely the best TV quiz show ever made – I want Alexander Armstrong and Richard Osman to come to dinner!!)
2. Having control of the remotes
3. A large cup of tea (white, two sugars)
4. A large glass of wine (Pinot for preference)
5. Pointless
6. Chocolate (Dairy Milk, or possibly Old Jamaica)
7. Crisps (Cheese and Onion)
8. Biscuits (Bourbon, Garibaldi or Lemon Puffs)
9. A roaring log fire (in winter only, of course)
10. Pointless
11. A James Bond movie (now which is the best.... Goldfinger?)
12. A ‘Carry On’ movie (Definitely 'Carry On Cleo' is the best, followed by 'Carry on Cowboy')
13. Johnny Depp (in anything except where they make him look freaky)
14. Sam Neill (in anything)
15. Pointless
16. Something that makes me laugh, usually an old sitcom on ‘Gold’ – the world is too grim for anything else
17. Snuggling up on the sofa with The Hubby, The Dog and The Cats (even if it does get a bit crowded)
18. Another large glass of wine
19. More chocolate
20. Pointless
1. Pointless (which is definitely the best TV quiz show ever made – I want Alexander Armstrong and Richard Osman to come to dinner!!)
2. Having control of the remotes
3. A large cup of tea (white, two sugars)
4. A large glass of wine (Pinot for preference)
5. Pointless
6. Chocolate (Dairy Milk, or possibly Old Jamaica)
7. Crisps (Cheese and Onion)
8. Biscuits (Bourbon, Garibaldi or Lemon Puffs)
9. A roaring log fire (in winter only, of course)
10. Pointless
11. A James Bond movie (now which is the best.... Goldfinger?)
12. A ‘Carry On’ movie (Definitely 'Carry On Cleo' is the best, followed by 'Carry on Cowboy')
13. Johnny Depp (in anything except where they make him look freaky)
14. Sam Neill (in anything)
15. Pointless
16. Something that makes me laugh, usually an old sitcom on ‘Gold’ – the world is too grim for anything else
17. Snuggling up on the sofa with The Hubby, The Dog and The Cats (even if it does get a bit crowded)
18. Another large glass of wine
19. More chocolate
20. Pointless
Wednesday 11 September 2013
Dentists - agents of Satan.....?
We all have our favourite pet hates when it comes to professions. For some people it’s bankers, for some politicians, maybe estate agents, lawyers or accountants or for others, like me, it’s dentists. And hygienists.
I hate going to the dentist with a vengeance. It’s expensive, uncomfortable and you get an unwanted lecture into what a bad, unhygienic person you are and how you must have appalling eating habits or personal hygiene. “Look” says the hygienist sticking a sharp implement into your gums, “It’s bleeding”. “Yes”, you reply grimacing, “It damn well is now”.
The frequency with which we visit the dentist often doesn’t (in my opinion) make any difference to whether you have good or bad teeth or gums. The Hubby diligently goes to the dentist every six months for a check up and a lecture by the hygienist. Personally, I think he was brainwashed by his ex sister-in-law who was a dentist and was married to a dentist. He seems to be of the view that if he doesn’t go somehow or other that makes him into a bad person and all his teeth will rot, go black and fall out.
As for me, on the other hand, well I haven’t been to the dentist for years. I did pop in about 18 months ago for a quick check up when I had a sore gum, was just about to go on holiday and didn’t fancy having to go for emergency treatment at a Greek dentist's surgery, but that aside, it must be at least seven years since I went for anything at all.
There is a reason for this. I am not afraid of blood, drills, needles, weird masks or chemical substances but I have a pathological fear of too many things in my mouth which, because I have a very strong gagging reflex, make me want to retch. Yes, I simply cannot stand anyone putting anything I don’t want them to into my mouth (ribald jokes, now, please, get them out of the way before we go any further!) In particular, I am up and out of that chair in a flash if I see those little rectangular things they tuck into your cheeks to take an x-ray coming towards me. God, I feel sick even just thinking about it!!
Taking all that into account, who do you think has spent the most emergency time at the torturer’s surgery and spent the most money on dental work in the past few years? Yep, you got it in one! The Hubby has spent a fortune on various fillings, caps and whatever despite the fact that he goes along religiously, brushes at least twice a day, flosses and uses mouthwash. I do all that stuff at home (well, not the flossing. Bloody stuff gets stuck between my teeth, even the waxed version) and despite my ‘just once in seven years’ visit when no work was done, I have no problems.
So is there really anything in the assertion (put about by dentists, of course) that we must get along and get our teeth checked out regularly or they will all fall out and we will all become diseased, ugly, toothless crones and hags? Personally, whilst regular check ups appear to be eminently sensible for children up to the age of maybe 16, for adults I don’t think so. I think that as long as you have good personal hygiene habits which include regular oral routines, and you have practised those good habits from childhood, then you shouldn’t need to go. You don’t go to the doctor for preventative visits, so why should you go to the dentist? It’s all a con to justify their enormous charges and buy their next Jag or next seven star holiday in Bermuda.
Toothache, or any sort of oral pain is, of course, almost some of the worst you can experience without having a life threatening condition. And when you do have a problem a good dentist, like a good emergency doctor, can be like an angel from heaven. But let’s get this in perspective and recognise the brainwashing for what it is.
And I’m not going, even though you’ve written to me this week and ticked me off for not attending an appointment in ages or finishing a ‘prescribed’ course of treatment (what treatment? I don’t remember that!). So there!
I hate going to the dentist with a vengeance. It’s expensive, uncomfortable and you get an unwanted lecture into what a bad, unhygienic person you are and how you must have appalling eating habits or personal hygiene. “Look” says the hygienist sticking a sharp implement into your gums, “It’s bleeding”. “Yes”, you reply grimacing, “It damn well is now”.
The frequency with which we visit the dentist often doesn’t (in my opinion) make any difference to whether you have good or bad teeth or gums. The Hubby diligently goes to the dentist every six months for a check up and a lecture by the hygienist. Personally, I think he was brainwashed by his ex sister-in-law who was a dentist and was married to a dentist. He seems to be of the view that if he doesn’t go somehow or other that makes him into a bad person and all his teeth will rot, go black and fall out.
As for me, on the other hand, well I haven’t been to the dentist for years. I did pop in about 18 months ago for a quick check up when I had a sore gum, was just about to go on holiday and didn’t fancy having to go for emergency treatment at a Greek dentist's surgery, but that aside, it must be at least seven years since I went for anything at all.
There is a reason for this. I am not afraid of blood, drills, needles, weird masks or chemical substances but I have a pathological fear of too many things in my mouth which, because I have a very strong gagging reflex, make me want to retch. Yes, I simply cannot stand anyone putting anything I don’t want them to into my mouth (ribald jokes, now, please, get them out of the way before we go any further!) In particular, I am up and out of that chair in a flash if I see those little rectangular things they tuck into your cheeks to take an x-ray coming towards me. God, I feel sick even just thinking about it!!
Taking all that into account, who do you think has spent the most emergency time at the torturer’s surgery and spent the most money on dental work in the past few years? Yep, you got it in one! The Hubby has spent a fortune on various fillings, caps and whatever despite the fact that he goes along religiously, brushes at least twice a day, flosses and uses mouthwash. I do all that stuff at home (well, not the flossing. Bloody stuff gets stuck between my teeth, even the waxed version) and despite my ‘just once in seven years’ visit when no work was done, I have no problems.
So is there really anything in the assertion (put about by dentists, of course) that we must get along and get our teeth checked out regularly or they will all fall out and we will all become diseased, ugly, toothless crones and hags? Personally, whilst regular check ups appear to be eminently sensible for children up to the age of maybe 16, for adults I don’t think so. I think that as long as you have good personal hygiene habits which include regular oral routines, and you have practised those good habits from childhood, then you shouldn’t need to go. You don’t go to the doctor for preventative visits, so why should you go to the dentist? It’s all a con to justify their enormous charges and buy their next Jag or next seven star holiday in Bermuda.
Toothache, or any sort of oral pain is, of course, almost some of the worst you can experience without having a life threatening condition. And when you do have a problem a good dentist, like a good emergency doctor, can be like an angel from heaven. But let’s get this in perspective and recognise the brainwashing for what it is.
And I’m not going, even though you’ve written to me this week and ticked me off for not attending an appointment in ages or finishing a ‘prescribed’ course of treatment (what treatment? I don’t remember that!). So there!
Monday 9 September 2013
There's no justice in the world.
I don’t usually read the ‘trade’ magazines which we get at work, deeming them too dull and boring to merit my attention. It is hard to think of a more stultifying title for a magazine than ‘Local Government Lawyer Today’ or ‘Public Sector IT’.
However today a strap line on the front cover of one of these august publications caught my eye, highlighting the escalating cost of benefits and how other local authority services (like mine) are struggling for funding because of it.
Now if there’s one thing which exercises me politically, it’s why I should be burdened with supporting the welfare state when I have never taken a penny from it in my lifetime and I see profligacy and waste all around from its recipients?
That is, of course, a sweeping statement which tars all with the same brush. And I do accept that there are many deserving people out there drawing on the state’s purse who thoroughly deserve to be helped in many ways, whether with money or with caring. But there are lots that don’t, and several of them seem to live in my area.
I am going to cite one particular family as an example. This family have six, soon to be seven, children. God knows where they all sleep in a three bedroom semi! The father doesn’t work in the conventional sense and when she isn’t pregnant or nursing an infant, the mother would appear to work as a shelf stacker doing night duty, so presumably earns comparative pennies. Both these adults are physically fit, although we understand the Dad has some sort of mental difficulties around socialisation (but there are lots of jobs which require lone workers). The children all have large numbers of toys and some quite expensive stuff, such as a mini motorbike and fishing gear. For a bit of cash in hand (we guess) ‘Dad’ often goes off with loads of good quality gardening equipment (certainly better and more powerful than we have), returning later in the day. Their garden and house is immaculate partly due to ‘Dad’s somewhat casual earning arrangements which leave him plenty of time at home and partly due to the fact that the Council has, to the best of our knowledge, provided a new kitchen, bathroom and roof for the property within the last 3 years. The kids all go to school and are immaculately turned out.
These people cannot possibly support six children on income support and shelf stacking wages, probably just two adults would be a struggle, and now they are bringing a seventh child into the world. We can only assume that they are doing it for the money, a jaundiced unkind view but one fuelled by the fact that presumably they have lost money in the government’s benefit reforms and caps and are now looking to bump up (no pun intended) the monthly income.
I’m doing something wrong here. All my life I have worked hard, even when my daughters were small, to make my own way in life. I pay my taxes and my bills and I would never deliberately bring about a situation for my family which I could not support financially. And yet this family are not alone, and the situation is tolerated.
If it were me, I would change the law to say that the maximum number of children that the state would support is two. Any more than that and you’re on your own; after all, contraception is free on the NHS and our population is expanding at an alarming rate which needs curbing. I would issue child allowance in food vouchers and in vouchers which could be used at Boots for ‘baby’ supplies such as nappies and children’s clothing and not in cash. Rent and Council Tax would (if it has to be paid) be paid direct to the local authority or landlord, and the remaining benefit would be paid partly in food vouchers and only partly in cash. Those drawing benefit would have to have regular health checks by a qualified nurse to ensure that they are not smoking or excessively drinking and if so, part of their benefit would be withdrawn to encourage them to stop. The savings that were made would pay for the nurses tenfold.
This does, of course, all sound a bit like a Communist State and rather extreme. But The Hubby and I (actually mainly The Hubby, out in the rain yesterday) have just spent this weekend – all weekend – sorting out things on our property to maintain its value and we both work all the hours just to we can pay the mortgage and have a decent quality of life. No one subsidises us and whichever way we seem to turn, there is another bill to be paid or another unexpected expense.
I’m sick of it. And now we have been told that if we want to retire, we’ll have to wait until we’re 67. These people are in their early forties at most and are probably younger, and living a better basic quality of life on the state than we’ll be able to afford for the next 15 years despite their ever expanding tribe of children. Oh, and I don’t have any money at work to run my service and even the slightest investment has to be justified by endless reports and cost benefits analyses because…. wait for it …. bloody social care services are mopping up all the cash. So we’re back to where we came in, aren’t we?
Oh, if only I were in charge........
However today a strap line on the front cover of one of these august publications caught my eye, highlighting the escalating cost of benefits and how other local authority services (like mine) are struggling for funding because of it.
Now if there’s one thing which exercises me politically, it’s why I should be burdened with supporting the welfare state when I have never taken a penny from it in my lifetime and I see profligacy and waste all around from its recipients?
That is, of course, a sweeping statement which tars all with the same brush. And I do accept that there are many deserving people out there drawing on the state’s purse who thoroughly deserve to be helped in many ways, whether with money or with caring. But there are lots that don’t, and several of them seem to live in my area.
I am going to cite one particular family as an example. This family have six, soon to be seven, children. God knows where they all sleep in a three bedroom semi! The father doesn’t work in the conventional sense and when she isn’t pregnant or nursing an infant, the mother would appear to work as a shelf stacker doing night duty, so presumably earns comparative pennies. Both these adults are physically fit, although we understand the Dad has some sort of mental difficulties around socialisation (but there are lots of jobs which require lone workers). The children all have large numbers of toys and some quite expensive stuff, such as a mini motorbike and fishing gear. For a bit of cash in hand (we guess) ‘Dad’ often goes off with loads of good quality gardening equipment (certainly better and more powerful than we have), returning later in the day. Their garden and house is immaculate partly due to ‘Dad’s somewhat casual earning arrangements which leave him plenty of time at home and partly due to the fact that the Council has, to the best of our knowledge, provided a new kitchen, bathroom and roof for the property within the last 3 years. The kids all go to school and are immaculately turned out.
These people cannot possibly support six children on income support and shelf stacking wages, probably just two adults would be a struggle, and now they are bringing a seventh child into the world. We can only assume that they are doing it for the money, a jaundiced unkind view but one fuelled by the fact that presumably they have lost money in the government’s benefit reforms and caps and are now looking to bump up (no pun intended) the monthly income.
I’m doing something wrong here. All my life I have worked hard, even when my daughters were small, to make my own way in life. I pay my taxes and my bills and I would never deliberately bring about a situation for my family which I could not support financially. And yet this family are not alone, and the situation is tolerated.
If it were me, I would change the law to say that the maximum number of children that the state would support is two. Any more than that and you’re on your own; after all, contraception is free on the NHS and our population is expanding at an alarming rate which needs curbing. I would issue child allowance in food vouchers and in vouchers which could be used at Boots for ‘baby’ supplies such as nappies and children’s clothing and not in cash. Rent and Council Tax would (if it has to be paid) be paid direct to the local authority or landlord, and the remaining benefit would be paid partly in food vouchers and only partly in cash. Those drawing benefit would have to have regular health checks by a qualified nurse to ensure that they are not smoking or excessively drinking and if so, part of their benefit would be withdrawn to encourage them to stop. The savings that were made would pay for the nurses tenfold.
This does, of course, all sound a bit like a Communist State and rather extreme. But The Hubby and I (actually mainly The Hubby, out in the rain yesterday) have just spent this weekend – all weekend – sorting out things on our property to maintain its value and we both work all the hours just to we can pay the mortgage and have a decent quality of life. No one subsidises us and whichever way we seem to turn, there is another bill to be paid or another unexpected expense.
I’m sick of it. And now we have been told that if we want to retire, we’ll have to wait until we’re 67. These people are in their early forties at most and are probably younger, and living a better basic quality of life on the state than we’ll be able to afford for the next 15 years despite their ever expanding tribe of children. Oh, and I don’t have any money at work to run my service and even the slightest investment has to be justified by endless reports and cost benefits analyses because…. wait for it …. bloody social care services are mopping up all the cash. So we’re back to where we came in, aren’t we?
Oh, if only I were in charge........
Thursday 5 September 2013
I don't have the time (or energy) to go to work!
We’ve had a busy few weeks, socially, and there are a few more things on the calendar.
Concerts, exhibitions, country fairs, meals out and social evenings with friends have all been very pleasant and totally enjoyable.
As with everything however, there are downsides and for these, the two downsides are that we are exhausted and skint. God, isn’t having a life expensive?
Over the next few weeks we really must make a concerted effort not to spend so much money enjoying ourselves. I mean honestly, why on earth should we, in our fifties, be allowed to go out and have fun after a lifetime of working bloody hard and bringing up our families with, it must be said, a reasonable degree of success moulding them into fairly well balanced people.
We do feel guilty, of course, at going out and spending all that cash which we could use paying off our debts or reducing the term of our mortgage. But then all my life I have done things for other people, been sensible, have had times when I’ve had cash and times when I’ve haven’t, and in the run up to my (late) middle age feel like I’ve accrued the right to have some fun for me, and not choose an activity just because others like it.
In recent months I have had time ‘off’ from shows; I haven’t performed, directed, helped backstage or been otherwise engaged in theatrical activity apart from going along to watch occasionally. I have started the radio DJ’ing, which is completely enjoyable and engrossing, even the evening spent in front of the computer choosing that week’s playlist. I have taken up tapestry, which has proved surprisingly satisfying and relaxing, and done some home brewing, a hobby I last did in my twenties (and pretty decent my Pinot Grigio is too!)
Making a concerted effort to have some ‘us’ time has certainly made us feel our age! We’re collapsing into the chair of an evening, after we’ve cleared away dinner and walked the dog, feeling totally shattered. We’re certainly sleeping well, better than we have for ages. The Hubby valiantly tries to read the paper and his eyelids droop (not an attractive sight, I can tell you) and I try and do the tapestry constantly unpicking stitches where I’m getting it wrong because I can no longer see straight. Honestly, what a pair!
There’s only one thing for it. We’ll have to retire. We don’t have time to go to work; we’re too busy! Now, how can we make that happen – sooner rather than later.
Thinking caps on. All sensible and polite suggestions welcome, please!
Concerts, exhibitions, country fairs, meals out and social evenings with friends have all been very pleasant and totally enjoyable.
As with everything however, there are downsides and for these, the two downsides are that we are exhausted and skint. God, isn’t having a life expensive?
Over the next few weeks we really must make a concerted effort not to spend so much money enjoying ourselves. I mean honestly, why on earth should we, in our fifties, be allowed to go out and have fun after a lifetime of working bloody hard and bringing up our families with, it must be said, a reasonable degree of success moulding them into fairly well balanced people.
We do feel guilty, of course, at going out and spending all that cash which we could use paying off our debts or reducing the term of our mortgage. But then all my life I have done things for other people, been sensible, have had times when I’ve had cash and times when I’ve haven’t, and in the run up to my (late) middle age feel like I’ve accrued the right to have some fun for me, and not choose an activity just because others like it.
In recent months I have had time ‘off’ from shows; I haven’t performed, directed, helped backstage or been otherwise engaged in theatrical activity apart from going along to watch occasionally. I have started the radio DJ’ing, which is completely enjoyable and engrossing, even the evening spent in front of the computer choosing that week’s playlist. I have taken up tapestry, which has proved surprisingly satisfying and relaxing, and done some home brewing, a hobby I last did in my twenties (and pretty decent my Pinot Grigio is too!)
Making a concerted effort to have some ‘us’ time has certainly made us feel our age! We’re collapsing into the chair of an evening, after we’ve cleared away dinner and walked the dog, feeling totally shattered. We’re certainly sleeping well, better than we have for ages. The Hubby valiantly tries to read the paper and his eyelids droop (not an attractive sight, I can tell you) and I try and do the tapestry constantly unpicking stitches where I’m getting it wrong because I can no longer see straight. Honestly, what a pair!
There’s only one thing for it. We’ll have to retire. We don’t have time to go to work; we’re too busy! Now, how can we make that happen – sooner rather than later.
Thinking caps on. All sensible and polite suggestions welcome, please!
Monday 2 September 2013
A grand day out
Yesterday, The Hubby and I had a day out.
I appreciate that may not sound like the most exciting statement in the world, and ‘having a day out’ is something that people do all the time, but we haven’t done it for ages due to various pressures and obligations and it was a timely reminder of how important it is to make time to spend just with each other and enjoy each other’s company. For starters, we went to the British Museum and saw the special exhibition about Pompeii and Herculaneum. Unless you’re into ancient history that may sound a little dull, but the exhibition was superb and the plaster casts made from the voids in the volcanic ash where organic matter had decayed, but the ash around it had set into solid rock, were strangely touching and evocative. I cannot imagine the terror that the occupants of those cities must have felt when the volcano erupted, and the casts are so precise that on some of the statues the facial expression was visible. One group of people, thought to be a family huddled together in a room when the pyroclastic surge caught them, were particularly touching with the mother clutching one child and the other child contorted in fear.
After that, we went over to the South Bank originally with the intention of just having a wander and looking at the arts and crafts stalls. However it was such a beautiful day that we took advantage of practically no queue at the London eye and paid the extortionate fare for the 30 minute revolution. The view was staggeringly clear and I’m really glad we did it; last time we went up it was also a lovely day but we faffed, worried we hadn’t intended to spend that money and putting it off ‘until next time’. We almost did the same yesterday but in the end took the plunge and it was amazing, well worth the money. If you haven’t been, I suggest you do.
In the evening, we rounded off the day by going to Pizza Express for a pizza and nice bottle of rose. Lovely!
As I say, we haven’t done a day out like that for ages. Demands of teenagers, a newly bereaved mother in law and financial constraints have meant weekends spent ferrying others or doing chores. Time together has been at a premium and we have been endlessly tired. What little down time has been available has been spent slumped in front of the telly with little energy for anything else. As a result, the pleasure we have always taken in each other’s company has been hard to come by as to be honest, at the weekends we haven’t seen much of each other.
We have resolved, after yesterday which was a salutary reminder of how good it can be, not to let such a situation happen again. Once a month at least, provided we are not going on holiday that month, we will keep one weekend ‘for us’ and plan something nice, even if it is just a trip to the cinema and a curry afterwards. We will be disciplined about putting money aside for this, so that even in our straitened circumstances lack of cash is not an excuse.
So the challenge is to find something to do in October (we’re going away in September) which fits the bill. Maybe a trip to the seaside – haven’t been to seedy old Brighton in ages, or sedate and genteel Eastbourne! Or maybe the zoo, to see some tigers and gorillas.
Any more imaginative suggestions (which don’t involve either extreme physical exertion [ie no sport] or a second mortgage) welcome!
I appreciate that may not sound like the most exciting statement in the world, and ‘having a day out’ is something that people do all the time, but we haven’t done it for ages due to various pressures and obligations and it was a timely reminder of how important it is to make time to spend just with each other and enjoy each other’s company. For starters, we went to the British Museum and saw the special exhibition about Pompeii and Herculaneum. Unless you’re into ancient history that may sound a little dull, but the exhibition was superb and the plaster casts made from the voids in the volcanic ash where organic matter had decayed, but the ash around it had set into solid rock, were strangely touching and evocative. I cannot imagine the terror that the occupants of those cities must have felt when the volcano erupted, and the casts are so precise that on some of the statues the facial expression was visible. One group of people, thought to be a family huddled together in a room when the pyroclastic surge caught them, were particularly touching with the mother clutching one child and the other child contorted in fear.
After that, we went over to the South Bank originally with the intention of just having a wander and looking at the arts and crafts stalls. However it was such a beautiful day that we took advantage of practically no queue at the London eye and paid the extortionate fare for the 30 minute revolution. The view was staggeringly clear and I’m really glad we did it; last time we went up it was also a lovely day but we faffed, worried we hadn’t intended to spend that money and putting it off ‘until next time’. We almost did the same yesterday but in the end took the plunge and it was amazing, well worth the money. If you haven’t been, I suggest you do.
In the evening, we rounded off the day by going to Pizza Express for a pizza and nice bottle of rose. Lovely!
As I say, we haven’t done a day out like that for ages. Demands of teenagers, a newly bereaved mother in law and financial constraints have meant weekends spent ferrying others or doing chores. Time together has been at a premium and we have been endlessly tired. What little down time has been available has been spent slumped in front of the telly with little energy for anything else. As a result, the pleasure we have always taken in each other’s company has been hard to come by as to be honest, at the weekends we haven’t seen much of each other.
We have resolved, after yesterday which was a salutary reminder of how good it can be, not to let such a situation happen again. Once a month at least, provided we are not going on holiday that month, we will keep one weekend ‘for us’ and plan something nice, even if it is just a trip to the cinema and a curry afterwards. We will be disciplined about putting money aside for this, so that even in our straitened circumstances lack of cash is not an excuse.
So the challenge is to find something to do in October (we’re going away in September) which fits the bill. Maybe a trip to the seaside – haven’t been to seedy old Brighton in ages, or sedate and genteel Eastbourne! Or maybe the zoo, to see some tigers and gorillas.
Any more imaginative suggestions (which don’t involve either extreme physical exertion [ie no sport] or a second mortgage) welcome!
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