However did we find time to work, I muse over an afternoon pint at my Great Marton local.
Parkinson’s Law maintains work expands to fit time available, explaining how bureaucracies grow.
Conversely, Roy’s Retirement Rule notes that time shrinks as leisure expands.
As I explain repeatedly at Edmonds Towers, there’s hardly time for those “little jobs” as well as leisure pursuits.
If we enjoy breakfast in bed and a trip out later, then that dripping tap will drip on longer.
Similarly, there’s plants to pot and baskets to hang on the terrace, garden furniture still in sheds, fencing to paint . . . or perhaps a stroll in the park instead?
How did we do all this and go to work?
Of course, as She Who quickly points out, back then I would not be mulling this over an afternoon beer with other retirees.
Our busiest time together now is shopping day. I spend hours a week in local stores – putting the world to rights with shopkeepers - but we still need one big supermarket trek a week.
Before retirement this was slotted in on the way home from work one evening. Now the big shop is a military daytime operation.
I have ‘bags for life’ ready from the car boot, arrange them in a low-load shopping trolley then hand over a joint “urgently-needed” list to She Who.
Once in store (Booths, usually, for local quality, ease and – occasionally – value), we split forces then reconnoitre by cash tills.
I have a system, too, for packing but, typically, She Who has a different one. As the cash-out lady politely watches, we bicker over whether all heavy items should be packed first (me thinks) or all freezer and fridge items (She Who insists).
It’s so exhausting that a cafe meal tends to follow, then a stroll on the Prom to walk off that. You see what I mean?
I could go on, dear readers, but just haven’t got time.
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