Dry run

It occurred to me – in the days leading up to my recent furlough from the world of work subsequent to the culmination of the summer term – that I might take the opportunity to conduct a small and not altogether scientific experiment. To whit – I would treat my time at home as an analogue for my eventual retirement. In this I was abetted by the fact that the Kickass Canada Girl had – somewhat to her chagrin – to go to work whilst I enjoyed my days at ‘leisure’.

I duly spent the week imagining that my time was my own – not just for the duration – but in perpetuity….

…and I have to say – I loved it!

OK – now I know that this was not a serious test and that my actual retirement – when it finally comes – will indubitably prove to be a very different experience. However, this experiment felt particularly good to me – and what I loved most was having the time to do things properly. So much of modern life seems to me these days to consist of rushing from pillar to post – squeezing ever more effort into a limited period and in return being rewarded with ever increased stress. I know that this is all about ‘efficiency’ and ‘productivity’ and that these are undeniably ‘good things’… except that as I grow older I find myself more and more doubting that they truly are so.

My one serious gripe with this leave of absence was that the days were quite simply not long enough! I have met all too many retired folks who complain that they don’t know what to do with themselves – that their lives have no structure and that they miss the motivation of having to work. I don’t get that at all! I read. I pottered about. I did some chores. I ran some errands. Sometimes I sat and thought. Sometimes I just sat!

I had time to do some work on a long-uncompleted song. The piece needed some serious thought and care lavished on it so that it could find its true form. I was able to devote such time to finding suitable sounds and to gaining a clearer picture of what it wanted – what it needed – to be. It is not yet finished, but I am already particularly pleased with the way that it is progressing.

I lunched with the Girl. Lunch at work is a rushed 10 or 15 minutes spent grabbing some sustenance before heading back to the desk. Lunch when one’s time is one’s own becomes what it really should be – the reward for a morning’s attention to detail and an opportunity to share all the delights of the day with those whom one loves.

Will I miss work when I do retire? You know – I truly don’t believe that I will.

When the time is right – it’s time to go.