Professional moaners....

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……

Feelin' hot, hot, hot!

Today, I’m off to the sun (in fact, by the time you read this, I’m probably there).  

You’ve probably got used to these blogs being a little erratic over the past few weeks due to busyness, laziness, whatever, but they will now be missing entirely for a period of about 10 days whilst I laze in the sun on my Cretan balcony.

I have been accused of being profligate about my holidays, chiefly because I have so many (“What, you’re going on holiday again?” people cry), but I would like to point out that I book my flights on the first day they are released and so get them dirt cheap. I have four holidays booked this year and for the two of us, the flights have cost less than £1,000 all in. We have very little in the way of living expenses when we are away because we eat cheaply and pretty much self cater about half the time with the usual housekeeping plus a little extra, and we don’t spend a fortune on ‘extras’ or excursions.

All in all, we spend about as much on four holidays probably as a family will spend on a fortnight’s package tour each year costing around £800 quid a head half board at the height of summer.

This year, I have booked one flight to Crete, connecting via Thessaloniki, for less than £60. My return ticket in September flying direct was under £100. I phobically check the Easyjet web site when I know the release date is imminent to get in right at the start for the best deal. The Hubby says I am obsessed, and he’s right. But I live for and love my holidays in the sun in the same way that some people can’t go without a skiing holiday or trekking through some insect infested, dangerous forest somewhere, and so I do anything I can to make it affordable.

I can see why many people would think we are lucky and spoiled with our apartment, and that we must be rich. But we’re not; we have chosen to step off the UK property ladder and be content with a low value house on an ex local authority estate and put our money into a place we love and which will serve for our retirement. I don’t see what’s wrong with that. We have chosen to have two mortgages now, when we are earning, to fund a dream for when we are older and in the meantime we have determined to take maximum advantage of or capital asset by using it as much as possible. We may be different or unusual in that respect, but we’re not rich and we’re certainly not spoiled – we’ve worked hard for what we’ve got, so why shouldn’t we enjoy it?

Holidays spread throughout the year are also a chance for some down time together. I’ve always believed that you have to work at a relationship if it is to have any chance of success, and that you have to make time and energy for each other too. During a standard working week we simply don’t have that; in between work, chores, pet care and running after the rest of the family almost every waking minute is taken up and we are exhausted. Going away means we can concentrate on each other, do things we both enjoy with enough time to do them properly and go back to having fun together, which is so important for a couple.

This time we are going to do some DIY (See? Not rich so doing it ourselves!) but even that will be an adventure in a small way, going together to the Greek version of Homebase and then working in the sun with a nice lunch as a reward. That’ll be done in three or four days and then we’ll have a nice relax before coming home, and it won’t be too long until the next time.

Can’t wait. See you all soon!

We’re all goin’ on a summer holiday…

So sang Sir Cliff Richard in the halcyon days of the sixties when a summer holiday was your only holiday and was usually a week in the sun (hopefully) at Bognor, although for most people it didn’t involve a double decker bus! If it rained, you made the best of it and sat on the beach in your anorak, and if you were one of the lucky few with shed loads of cash, you took yourself off to France or what sounded like an exotic Mediterranean island such as Capri, or you went for a fortnight instead of just a week. Holidays any further afield, or for longer, were at that time strictly for the jet set and for movie stars only.

Despite the fact that the destinations have changed – become more far flung, exotic and needless to say more expensive – and the range of activities we undertake has expanded to include annual skiing holidays, various other sports and ‘activity holidays’ such as cookery schools and painting retreats, and also that we probably all have more holidays and leisure time now than we did fifty years ago, we still look forward to and anticipate our main summer holidays as much as ever.

We are very lucky in that we bought our house in Greece about six or seven years ago when the exchange rate was good and we could afford it – we certainly couldn’t now. As such, we can buy cheap flights as soon as they are released and have been known to get return flights to Iraklio in early summer for less than £80. We try to get out there three or four times a year, and today we are jetting off on our annual summer fortnight together (other holidays are sometimes taken on our own due to work commitments). My daughter, who lives with us, is looking forward to having the run of the house in return for feeding my cats and watering my plants.

I can’t wait. We fly from Gatwick in the afternoon and we should be there about 11pm, local time. That means we can nip out for a nightcap at the local kafenion before tucking in for the night and so be fresh and ready to sleep on the beach the next day.

The first week of any fortnight is always down time. Usually, we are so tired that all we want to do is eat, sleep, sunbathe and relax. By the second week, we are ready to do a bit more and this time we are thinking of exploring the south of the island a little more and visiting the fourth Minoan Palace on Crete at Phaestos. We have been to all the others  at Knossos, Malia and Zakros. By the way, don’t bother going to Zakros – it’s a horrendous drive over virtual goat tracks to see something which is, in essence, just a pile of stones now, and there’s neither a café nor toilets. Anyway, getting to Phaestos will involve a fairly long drive and probably an overnight stay. On the way, we have also been recommended to visit a resort called Matala, which is meant to be spectacularly beautiful and very peaceful as it is off the usual tourist trail due to its remote location.

There are people that say to be “Don’t you get bored going back to the same place each time?” and to a certain extent I can see where they are coming from, but I must say the novelty of having my own house on a beautiful island in the Med hasn’t worn off and I don’t think it will for a while. While I am working, and while my leisure time is so precious (as is my time with The Hubby), it suits me fine to go back to a place with guaranteed weather, where I have my own stuff, I know where everything is, I understand how things work and I can relax as soon as I get on the plane. Yes, I would like to explore other places and go further afield as well as elsewhere in the UK, but for now I am perfectly happy thank you, and all that can wait until I am retired. We can fly to other countries from Athens as well as from London, and when we do come back to the UK to see family we can travel around too. So there’s no rush.

I am now going to shut down for a fortnight, but I will be making copious notes to inform various blogs when I get back. I have written several which will publish while I am away, so enjoy, and I will (metaphorically) see you all soon!

Off on holiday

Just after the Easter break in England, I will be off on holiday. I am going to Crete with The Hubby to be there for Greek Easter, which is their biggest celebration of the year.

And if you are a burglar reading this, no, my house will not be empty. I have a teenage daughter on break from uni who, like most teenagers, spends their entire time either sleeping, eating me out of house and home, wrecking the bathroom or watching TV. I fully expect her to be welded to the sofa for the whole time I am away with large bottles of coca cola and an unlimited supply of chocolate digestives by her side (along with her mobile phone, of course) watching endless soaps and American trash drama. And even if not I have three ferocious moggies who will eat you as soon as look at you. So don't even think about it!

This holiday seems like it has been a long time coming. The winter, whatever the weather men say, has felt long, grey and dreary. Work is getting more and more manic as cuts are made and staff leave. Our own money seems to be flowing out of the door in an endless stream of household expenses and ever increasing bills. We both feel exhausted. Some Cretan sun will be very welcome.

I am going for about 9 days, and The Hubby is joining me a day or so later (he couldn't get the time off work as his boss is a total w****r  about authorising leave (oops - better hope he isn't reading this!). We will be there for the Easter Saturday night celebrations and also Orthodox Easter Sunday when hopefully, if it is warm enough, we will barbeque on the beach, or maybe on the balcony. It will be a week of just relaxing in the sun, reading, writing and for me, learning my lines.

I have been spray tanning myself for the last couple of weeks and look a nice golden colour (mostly, one or two places are a bit patchy but never mind), have booked an appointment to get my highlights done again so I will be lovely and blonde once more (the Greek men do like a blonde, I have discovered!) and have booked an appointment to get my nails done and have my eyebrows waxed. I've bought a new handbag. So I'm ready, I think, apart from a little bit of packing!

I can't wait! I do get used to the pace of life in the UK and I am used to not seeing The Hubby from Sunday night until Friday evening (or that's quite often what it feels like) but to be honest I married him because I wanted to spend time with him so holidays when we can  have time totally to ourselves without worrying about work, children, relatives or anything else are very precious. I expect we'll do a bit of walking which you can't do in the summer as it's too darn' hot, some sunbathing and some socialising. It'll be great.

I hope the weather's decent. Last year I went to Crete with two girlfriends for Easter and it was cold and wet. To add insult to injury, the week we were away it was beautiful in the UK. So here's hoping the sun shines on me this time. It owes me one!

A nice cup of tea!

I made my boss a cup of tea one day last week. His PA was off sick and he had been beavering away for hours, and as I was making one for myself I offered to do one for him as well (and to be completely truthful it’s coming up to bonus award time soon, so I was toadying a bit, too!)

So I disappeared off to the miniscule cupboard which our Premises Management team laughingly call a kitchen, made his cuppa and plonked it back down on the desk, milk no sugar as requested.

“How did you get it that colour after about 30 seconds?” he said, looking scathingly at said cuppa. “I squeezed the tea bag” I said. “So it hasn’t brewed, then?” he asked. “Well, briefly” I responded, feeling somewhat miffed. I didn’t have to make his bloody tea, after all. I mean how ungrateful can you get? “Oh!”. Which spoke volumes. Anyway, he drank it just the same. But I doubt I will be offering again!

Isn’t it odd how precious we can become about something so small. I don’t really mind, of course, the poor man is entitled to prepare his tea in any way he chooses and I’m probably just as bad. Too impatient you see – once it’s made I want to get it down my neck and not fart around waiting for it to change colour all by itself. Just give it a good squeeze for goodness sake. But it is the little things like that which mark us out from the rest of the animal kingdom. We’re particular and fussy in a way that most aren’t, and we can’t  half get upset if things aren’t done in the way we want them to be.

Afternoon tea is, of course, a bit of a British Institution (capital letters deliberate). For my 50^th birthday last year, one of my treats was afternoon tea at the Dorchester Hotel on Park Lane. It was fantastic – dainty little sarnies with lots of different fillings, scones with clotted cream and jam and amazing confectionery concoctions, with the plates refilled as often as you like. We had a glass of champers and some lovely (I imagine properly brewed) strong afternoon tea in posh china cups you could see the light through, poured through a proper strainer from a very posh tea pot. Pianist tinkling away in the background, deferential service, fab! Could definitely have got used to it – although then it wouldn’t be such a treat. I am seriously thinking of treating The Hubby to a similar treat at a different hotel for his birthday in November – maybe the Ritz or the Savoy.

An afternoon tea shop is something I have often thought about opening when eventually I retire to Crete, to be open all year serving proper sarnies, scones, cakes and ice cream sundaes. I’d open it on the main square of the town and stay open all year to serve the ex-pat community (generally speaking, when I do retire I’d like to immerse myself in the life of the locals and not become part of an ex-pat enclave, but their money is as good as anyone elses’, there’s nothing like this there at the moment and I know I could do this well!).

It’s an idea at that, but when it comes to it in a few years time, will I be bothered? I’ll probably just want to relax and enjoy myself having worked hard every year of my life since I was 17. Who knows?

Where does the time go?

I can't believe it's a week since I last blogged. Of course, I have been busy terrorising children for the last week. Not, I might add, by lurking down an alleyway with a bag of sweeties and a pad of chloroform going "Come here, little girl", but by poncing around on stage dressed in a big black frock and scary black wig and occasionally shouting "Oh, no I didn't". Much to my gratification, in every performance but one there were at least two small children that had to be evacuated to the bar and were too afraid to come back in! For the baddie, that's a result!

The older I get, the more I don't know where the time goes. Perhaps it is an indication of age that time passes more quickly the less you have of it left, although I am very hopeful that I have several more decades still to go. I can well believe it when oldies say that they have never been so busy since they retired; I have just had five days off and I can't think how I have passed the time (except for the evenings, when obviously I do know where I was - see above).

It is scary to think that panto is over for another year and I now have to start thinking about what I want to direct next year. I am being nagged by the Player's committee for my choice, and I haven't had five minutes - or so it seems - to even think about it. I am going to have to force myself to work on it in the evenings and if I want to finish writing something, I am going to have to work on the train. I did do something this evening but all I have done is decide what I had already written is not good enough and started again virtually.

There seems to be so much to do, quite honestly I don't have time to go to work. I could quite happily spend all day doing Operatic Society work, learning lines for 'Midsummer Night's Dream', working round the house, writing rubbish like this and painting what I optimistically call ' abstract art'. I firmly believe I have at least one novel in me, probably a bodice ripper, and I have several more panto scripts to write.

What I really need is a moderate lottery win, enough to pay off the bills and to stop work and allow me to do all of this at leisure. I'm sure I could make some pin money out of it and get a lot more satisfaction than doing what I do now. If you write for a living, you can do it from anywhere there is an internet connection so perhaps I could get broadband put in by OTE in Crete and work from our apartment there. I wonder whether all that Cretan sunshine would affect my mood? Of course I'd miss The Hubby, but I could pop back and see him from time to time when I had to come back to London to see my publisher. My publisher - doesn't that sound grand!

For the moment, it's all a pipe dream. Too many mortgages, too many children and too many responsibilities. But in time, it's an achieveable dream and I too, intend to be busier as I get older doing more of the things I want to do. And I'll keep writing - I like it!