Lying in bed, looking forward to my first non-working day tomorrow, having just retired 😊
I hope you are doing something memorable to mark the day @Killarahales. Don't be like my mate who I saw a couple of months after his retirement: Me: What've you been up to? Him: Oh nothing much, just watching Father Brown, you know. Me: No, I don't know!
Lying in bed, looking forward to my first non-working day tomorrow, having just retired 😊
First thing I did on my first day of what transpired to be my retirement, was go to the garden centre and sign up for a 'friends' card for a 10% discount on anything, but mainly the café. The most old persony thing I've ever done. I consoled myself that, centre employees aside, there was nobody in the cafe I couldn't beat in a fight. Three years later, that remains the case, though the gap is closing fast. Mrs Idle (who still works) and I have brunch there almost every Monday. It's nice to have some structure to your week. I haven't been bored for a moment since I stopped working. Whatever you do, enjoy it!
Lying in bed, looking forward to my first non-working day tomorrow, having just retired 😊
I hope you are doing something memorable to mark the day @Killarahales. Don't be like my mate who I saw a couple of months after his retirement: Me: What've you been up to? Him: Oh nothing much, just watching Father Brown, you know. Me: No, I don't know!
Went early and had a couple of dozen oysters, washed down with a bottle of Muscadet (with my girlfriend) at the weekend. This week is all about Wimbledon and the cricket, with centre court tickets on Sunday! But I do have some more interesting plans other than watching other people do stuff.
Lying in bed, looking forward to my first non-working day tomorrow, having just retired 😊
I hope you are doing something memorable to mark the day @Killarahales. Don't be like my mate who I saw a couple of months after his retirement: Me: What've you been up to? Him: Oh nothing much, just watching Father Brown, you know. Me: No, I don't know!
Went early and had a couple of dozen oysters, washed down with a bottle of Muscadet (with my girlfriend) at the weekend. This week is all about Wimbledon and the cricket, with centre court tickets on Sunday! But I do have some more interesting plans other than watching other people do stuff.
Spot on! It's such a luxury to have time to do what you want without worrying about time off work and all that crap. I had lots of weeks and weekends away that first summer, either with Mrs or with mates, and it was fantastic. It's tailed off only slightly now, due to having to do the house up for sale. Then we'll move and start again.
I notice that roughly double the number of Charlton fans, are positive and able to find things that please them, rather than those posting negative opinions!.
Being accosted by a young Portuguese chap in the supermarket cafe this morning on seeing my Charlton shirt. He asked me if the club shop would export to Portugal, and then went on to tell me he used to play FIFA or somesuch video game as Charlton back in 2004-ish. He obviously wasn't an avid follower, as he didn't know we got promoted this year, but I'll take it...
The 106 year old man who has put his longevity down to a daily helping of custard.
This is a fact that I have known since childhood. My mum used to serve custard for afters seven days a week. We'd have it with rhubarb crumble, apple pie, tins of mixed fruit, stewed apples, tinned apricots/pears in fact you name it ... On a Sunday we'd have ice cream and custard ... the creme de la creme.
I recall my dear departed child bride presenting me with a very nice first dinner after we married in 1976. I also remember the conversation turning distinctly frosty when i asked her what was for afters? "Afters?" she said. "what do you mean?" "Oh you know" I said, "Something with custard".
In the next few nano seconds it became abundantly clear that this practice was to be stopped forthwith. It was also suggested that there was an opportunity for me to return to my mothers house and home.
Anyway, using the negotiating skills of Kofi Annan I managed to avoid a one way ticket back to mum's house, but not even Kofi Annan could convince my new bride to put custard on the menu
The 106 year old man who has put his longevity down to a daily helping of custard.
This is a fact that I have known since childhood. My mum used to serve custard for afters seven days a week. We'd have it with rhubarb crumble, apple pie, tins of mixed fruit, stewed apples, tinned apricots/pears in fact you name it ... On a Sunday we'd have ice cream and custard ... the creme de la creme.
I recall my dear departed child bride presenting me with a very nice first dinner after we married in 1976. I also remember the conversation turning distinctly frosty when i asked her what was for afters? "Afters?" she said. "what do you mean?" "Oh you know" I said, "Something with custard".
In the next few nano seconds it became abundantly clear that this practice was to be stopped forthwith. It was also suggested that there was an opportunity for me to return to my mothers house and home.
Anyway, using the negotiating skills of Kofi Annan I managed to avoid a one way ticket back to mum's house, but not even Kofi Annan could convince my new bride to put custard on the menu
(It was Pearce Duffs for me).
Not another custard thread. At least you ate it I suppose.
On a cruise just off Norwegian coast and not quiet in the artic circle yet, just seen a large whale slapping his tail and showing off for around 5 minutes, awaiting to try to find out what kind it was from the expert on board got a tal in half hour. Always wanted to see that, but never thought I would. Fantastic show might have been two as it could be part of there mating ritual.
We took our daughters to the open day of a girls' secondary school in Surrey on Friday. We were shown around by two Year 8 students who were the absolute highlight of the experience. They were bright, confident and chatty and clearly loved their school.
I had to laugh. If they let the Year 8s from my school do the tours, it would have been a disaster. They'd have been showing the parents the best graffiti and telling them which teachers were wankers.
Comments
Me: What've you been up to?
Him: Oh nothing much, just watching Father Brown, you know.
Me: No, I don't know!
I consoled myself that, centre employees aside, there was nobody in the cafe I couldn't beat in a fight. Three years later, that remains the case, though the gap is closing fast.
Mrs Idle (who still works) and I have brunch there almost every Monday. It's nice to have some structure to your week. I haven't been bored for a moment since I stopped working.
Whatever you do, enjoy it!
I do like a good moan.
Dull, overcast, rain on & off. So much better than the last few days of heat and humidity.
Hopefully, a good night's kip under the duvet tonight, rather than on top of it.
This is a fact that I have known since childhood. My mum used to serve custard for afters seven days a week. We'd have it with rhubarb crumble, apple pie, tins of mixed fruit, stewed apples, tinned apricots/pears in fact you name it ... On a Sunday we'd have ice cream and custard ... the creme de la creme.
I recall my dear departed child bride presenting me with a very nice first dinner after we married in 1976. I also remember the conversation turning distinctly frosty when i asked her what was for afters? "Afters?" she said. "what do you mean?" "Oh you know" I said, "Something with custard".
In the next few nano seconds it became abundantly clear that this practice was to be stopped forthwith. It was also suggested that there was an opportunity for me to return to my mothers house and home.
Anyway, using the negotiating skills of Kofi Annan I managed to avoid a one way ticket back to mum's house, but not even Kofi Annan could convince my new bride to put custard on the menu
(It was Pearce Duffs for me).
Finally got to see him in concert on Thursday. Absolutely superb.
That’s something that pleases me.
I had to laugh. If they let the Year 8s from my school do the tours, it would have been a disaster. They'd have been showing the parents the best graffiti and telling them which teachers were wankers.