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Retirement

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Flaming_June,_by_Fredrick_Lord_Leighton_(1830-1896)“And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days”

 James Russell Lowell

Gentle readers of the regular variety will doubtless already be aware of my predilection for this season above all others.

I have waxed lyrical on more than one occasion concerning the joys – the virtues – the delights of the sumptuous months of May and June. The first fresh flowerings of summer – the crisp munchy greens of the new foliage – the delirious aroma of fresh cut grass – the scarce-remembered warmth of the sun on one’s shoulders – the caring caress of the balmy breeze – the drowsy hum of a somnolent afternoon…

…and so on…

…and so forth…

It matters scarcely a jot that in reality ‘Flaming June’ tends as often as not nowadays to the chill – the vaporous – the tenebrous… What counts are the possibilities – the promise!

And so as each day dawns we know that the sun will shine, that we will venture forth with a song in our hearts, and that all will indeed be for the best in the best of all possible worlds!

Or it would be – were it not for the fact that we have to go to work!!!

For those of us in academia these last few frantic weeks of the summer term are seldom restful. The days are ever filled with stresses and strains as a million and one things must be signed off before everyone else rushes off for a (well deserved!) long summer break.

This is just one of the many things that I eagerly – nay, hungrily – anticipate in my impending retirement…

I am looking forward to getting back my Junes!

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidOn the threshold of any wholly new and momentous devoted enterprise, the thousand ulterior intricacies and emperilings to which it must conduct; these, at the outset, are mostly withheld from sight.

Herman Melville

It is a little over two years now since I first started the process of applying for Permanent Residence status for Canada, with a view to retiring to British Columbia just as soon as could feasibly be arranged. Those who have alighted on this blog in even the most transitory of fashions will doubtless be only too aware that – as a result of a series of unfortunate circumstances – the entire operation ground to a halt in the autumn of 2012 and remained in a state of hiatus until earlier this year – when the process was finally booted back into life.

I re-applied for my Police Certificate – I underwent another medical – the Kickass Canada Girl and I re-filled many, many forms – we researched and compiled yet more supporting documentation – and we paid our application processing fees online.

Well – here we are – six weeks later – and the event that I began to doubt would ever happen has finally taken place.

Today I posted my application for Canadian Permanent Residence!!

Hoorah!

 

I will – naturally – keep you updated regarding progress as it happens. For now though – here is a breakdown of what we had to submit:

For the Sponsor (the Girl):

  • 1 x completed form – IMM 1344 – Application to Sponsor, Sponsorship Agreement and Undertaking
  • 1 x completed form – IMM 5481 – Sponsorship Evaluation
  • 1 x completed form – IMM 5540 – Sponsor Questionnaire
  • 1 x completed form – IMM 5491 – Document Checklist – Sponsor

Supporting Documentation for form IMM 5540

  • Additional information on previous spouses
  • Details of current relationship

Receipts for fees

  • 1 x copy of the receipt for the Sponsor’s fee
  • 1 x copy of the receipt for the Principal Applicant’s processing fee

Travel Documents and Passports

  • 1 x copy of Canadian Passport.

Identity and Civil Status Documents

  • 2 x copy of previous divorce certificates
  • 1 x copy of P60 End of Year Tax Certificate
  • 1 x copy of a letter from the Girl’s employer stating salary

Intention to Re-establish in Canada Documents

  • 1 x statement of Intention to Re-establish in Canada
  • 1 x statement detailing Canadian RRSPs (Registered Retirement Savings Plans)
  • 1 x pension projection for my defined benefit pension plans
  • 1 x letter detailing mortgage on the Girl’s son’s condo in Victoria
  • 2 x copies of Property Tax Notices on Canadian properties
  • 1 x copy of estate agent’s (realtor’s) details regarding the sale of our UK property
  • 1 x copy of statement of Canadian savings accounts

For the Principal Applicant (me!):

  • 1 x completed form – IMM 008 – General Application Form for Canada
  • 1 x completed form – IMM 5669 – Schedule A – Background/Declaration
  • 1 x completed form – IMM 5406 – Additional Family Information
  • 1 x completed form – IMM 5490 – Sponsored Spouse/Partner Questionnaire

Identity and Civil Status Documents

  • 1 x copy of birth certificate
  • 1 x copy of driving license
  • 1 x copy of marriage certificate
  • 1 x copy of previous divorce certificate

Travel Documents and Passports

  • 1 x copy of passport

Proof of Relationship to Sponsor

  • 19 x copies of photographs of the two of us taken on holidays and at other events over the past 9 years
  • 6 x copies of photographs of our wedding and reception in Victoria
  • 2 x copies of photographs taken on our honeymoon
  • 6 x copies of photographs taken at our wedding blessing ceremony in the UK
  • 1 x copy of our wedding invitation
  • 1 x copy of our wedding blessing ceremony invitation
  • 1 x copy of our wedding ‘thank you’ card
  • 1 x copy of a screen-capture showing a small number of the 4000+ emails we have exchanged over the last 9 years

Police Certificates and Clearances

  • 1 x Association of Chief Police Officers (ACPO) – Police Certificate

Proof of Medical Examination

  • 1 x E-Medical Information Sheet completed by the clinic

Photos

  • 8 x photographs to the specification in IMM 3901 Sponsorship of a Spouse, Common-law Partner,Conjugal Partner or Dependant Child Living Outside Canada – Part 3 – Country Specific Instruction (Western Europe) – Appendix B: Photo Specifications

 

Amen to that – and ‘bon voyage’!

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deja-vue-all-over-again-yogi-berraTwo years ago to this very day – on April 22nd 2012 – I posted this entry to my then still fledgeling journal. The jist of the epistle was that we had just placed our Buckinghamshire apartment on the market (for the second time) and that – though the market was as flat as a flat thing – we were nonetheless optimistic that we would eventually find a buyer. As it turned out – of course – those optimistic inclinations proved to be somewhat – er – optimistic!

As can be discerned from this only slightly later post I was at that time also contemplating the start of the process by which I would achieve Permanent Residency status for Canada, prior to my intended retirement to BC last summer. Regular readers will know that that process was aborted at the last moment when the Kickass Canada Girl’s job in Victoria evaporated in a puff of smoke and we had to reconcile ourselves to a slightly longer domicile in the UK than had originally been planned.

Well – here we are – two years down the line and we find ourselves right back where we started!

Last week our apartment in Buckinghamshire went back onto the market. Third time lucky and all that – but it has to be said that the omens do appear somewhat more propitious this time round, with the UK property market – particularly in the south east – doing its level best to inflate itself into an even bigger bubble than before. Anyway – let’s not startle the horses… so ’nuff said!

I am also kick-starting my PR application again. Modifying the paperwork to reflect the fact that two years have passed is not difficult. Much has changed (the Girl now lives and works in the UK – we have been married for twice as long as we had in 2012 – I am now a pensioner!) – and the forms need to be re-written to reflect that.

What will take time and effort – however – are the elements that must be re-done from scratch. I will have to apply for a fresh Police Certificate and I will need to take another medical. I will also need to acquire another set of visa application photographs. Some of the previous set vanished into the process – never to be seen again – and I am in any case now sporting a facial embellishment that was not previously extant.

Revisiting the application has been interesting. I can see now that I misinterpreted several of the questions the first time round and it is good to get those sorted out. I also notice that some elements of the process itself have been improved. You may recall the trouble that I had persuading my chosen clinic to carry out the medical without prior submission of my PR application? Well – the documentation on all sides now makes it clear that the medical can be carried out ‘upfront’ in family sponsorship cases – and indeed that so to do can help to accelerate the process.

I will – of course – let you know how it all goes…

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidIt is not far short of a month since I passed the significant (for me, anyway!) milestone that was my sixtieth birthday. I am now officially ‘getting on a bit’!

The gentle reader may have noticed – however – that apart from describing in a frankly unnecessary degree of detail the celebrations that accompanied the event I have made very little reference to what it is actually like to have crossed the great divide into a seventh decade. Though I have now achieved an age that would once have been considered ‘pretty good going’ – in this day and age to have done so is merely commonplace.

Truth be told I have written nothing because being 60 has felt little different to being 59 – which in turn felt no different to 58 – and so forth…

That this may be self-evident is clearly no help at all to anyone who has arrived here as a result of Googling the InterWebNet nervously for signs of an after-life in the detritus of the boomer generation. I will therefore make what observations I can – however prosaic they may be.

The first thing to say is that once one has passed one’s sixtieth anniversary – in the UK at least – one is suddenly eligible for free stuff!

I take regular medication for inherited hypertension. It will be very nice no longer to have to pay for my prescriptions (three off – every two months)… at least until we move to Canada, where – the Kickass Canada Girl assures me – I will be charged even more than I had once to pay here.

I am also a long-time contact lens wearer and – as a result of one of my habitually curmudgeonly fallings-out with my erstwhile optician – I had recently to sign a new contract with a different chain. For this purpose I was required to take a fresh eye test and I was delighted to find that this also was free of charge.

Until fairly recently I would have been able to get a free bus pass as well – but I learn that the powers-that-be have decided that this was far too straightforward a service to be gifted to mere mortals and have thus of late complicated it to the nth degree. To qualify now one has to live in a certain part of the country, to have been born under a particular phase of the moon and to arrive at the answer ‘5’ when asked to subtract the number one first thought of…

Well – something like that! I will not – apparently – qualify for mine until I am sixty five years, two months and twelve days old – and I certainly don’t intend still to be around here by then. Those who know me will doubtless snort derisively at this juncture and point out that the issue is moot since I wouldn’t be caught dead on a bus in any case!

One change – however – is significant. I am now a pensioner! At my previous school my retirement age was 60 and my pension thence – though relatively humble – has now come into effect. I thus received my first pension paycheck at the end of last week. Now that was a momentous event.

The real changes – though – will not take place until I finally retire…

Roll on the day!

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cup-and-ballAs we rush headlong towards the end of what must be quite the most frantically busy year that either of us can recall – scrabbling desperately to finish all that must be accomplished before we head to BC in a little over a week’s time – it seems an apposite moment to try to put the events of the last two years into some sort of perspective – hopefully in the process providing some degree of clarity to any recent arrivals who are doubtless completely confused by the whole dashed business.

As I write my sixtieth birthday is exactly one month away. Any notions that I might have had about slowing down in the run up to retirement are clearly pipe-dreams – and wouldn’t it be good to have the time to dream just now?! This diminutive planet is a tough place to be in these days, though – I must at once declare – we are actually fantastically fortunate… many have it considerably tougher than do we. It is – regardless – still sometimes difficult to see the path ahead through the murk.

When I started to write this blog – not quite two years ago – my infinitely better half – the Kickass Canada Girl – was shortly to leave for Victoria to take up the post that was to see her through to retirement. I was – sad to say – to remain in England for somewhere between 18 months and two and a half years until such time as I could also retire – at which point I would emigrate to Canada to join her there.

Regular readers will be well aware that a variety of things went amiss with this strategem. First, we picked a bad time to try to sell our apartment in the UK and – having already moved into rented accomodation ourselves – were forced to take a tenant. Secondly – and of considerably greater import – the Girl’s job in BC failed to live up to expectations and she was forced to return to the UK to take another job here. My retirement – which had looked at one point to be on the cards for the summer of this year – had, for the time being, to be postponed.

So – where are we now?

Well – we have another plan – by which we will both be moving to Canada either in the summer of 2015 or in the spring of 2016… always assuming that we have the energy to keep going that long. At the moment this seems frankly implausible!

The housing market in the UK is picking up. Our newly installed third tenant (the second was – thankfully – a considerable improvement on the first) will be given notice in the spring that we intend to put the apartment in Buckinghamshire back on the market and – once sold – we will look increasingly hard at purchasing in Victoria whilst the market there is still favourable (hopefully also whilst the pound is still weak against the Canadian dollar!). Fingers (and legs and eyes) firmly crossed!

We are off to Canada next week to celebrate what will be my first Christmas and New Year there. I can’t wait! We will also be celebrating – at the Wickaninnish Inn near Long Beach outside Tofino – my sixtieth birthday.

Now – that will be a milestone…

 

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Photo by Ged Carroll on Flickr…”I’ve got a great idea.”

At the fag end of January 2013 I wrote – in my second ever post on this blog:

“About this time last year Kickass Canada Girl and I came up with a plan. It was a good plan. In fact, we were so impressed with it that we thought it might be The plan!”

That post was entitled “…gang aft a-gley” – a reference, of course, to the immortal Rabbie Burns’s poem “To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough”. For those – should there conceivably be such – not acquainted with that timeless ode,  the verse in question runs thus:

“But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

I wound up my post with the observation:

“I’m sure you know the Woody Allen quip: ‘If you want to make god laugh, tell him about your plans’…”

At the time of writing I was – naturally – merely referring to our initial unforseen departure from the script – which arose both from our unexpected inability to sell our Buckinghamshire apartment and, thereafter, from the Kickass Canada Girl’s accelerated appointment to her much anticipated post in Victoria – considerably in advance of the migration date that we had originally intended. As it turned out my sentiments on that occasion proved prescient – and then some! I could have re-used the title for any number of subsequent posts as the edifice that was our beautiful strategy was systematically reduced to rubble – stone by stone. No mere chuckles for this god – he/she was definitely rolling on the floor laughing his/her a*se off!

Soooooo! You would doubtless expect us to have learned from our experiences? Ho, ho! Not us! We are such stuff as… should you slam the door in our faces, when you open it again we will still be standing there – smiling at you…

Yes – we thought that it was time once again to formulate a plan. This time – however – we are going to be a little more devious – to see if we can’t outwit the gods. Foolish we may be – but you have to give us marks for perseverance.

Here’s how it goes:

  • We have set a window. At the near end of the scale I retire at the end of the academic year in 2015 and we move to BC in the summer of that same year.
  • At the far end of the scale we aim to move to Victoria in May 2016. Under this strategy I would probably retire at Christmas 2015 – but could stay on until Easter 2016 if it were to appear advantageous so to do.
  • Either way we will look to re-market the apartment within the next 6 months – probably next spring. The housing market seems to have picked up considerably and – mindful of the UK government’s latest scheme to guarantee mortgage deposits as a way to encourage another housing bubble – it would be madness not to jump aboard the bandwagon (mixing metaphors furiously as we go) with the aim of launching into the market at a relatively high point.

That is the plan, in any case – and as we all know by now…

The title for this post comes – as you are doubtless aware – from the celebrated final scene of that classic of UK 60s cinema – ‘The Italian Job’. Michael Caine announces his ‘great idea’ lying on the floor of a coach which is balanced teeteringly on the very edge of an Alpine precipice.

Let’s hope that is not an omen!

 

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Photo by Sam Newman on FlickrNow – I know that regular readers may find this difficult to comprehend, given my normal sweet nature – but throughout this last week my mood has been distinctly – how shall I put it – tetchy!

Looking back to this time last year – as illustrated by this less than temperate post – it should be apparent that this is, to an extent, an annual phenomenon. Granted that last August was in many ways exceptional (the Kickass Canada Girl had just gone back to Canada and I was feeling abandoned and overwhelmed) it has to be said these last few days before the start of the new academic year are always fraught with difficulty. The teaching staff – having disappeared for the entire summer – pitch up again with all manner of last minute demands and requests just at our busiest time of the year. This time around we have also suffered from an apparent lack of planning and forethought (on the part of others!) which caused us to sit twiddling our thumbs (metaphorically at least) for the first part of the summer, followed latterly by a mad dash to execute a variety of complex projects for which it is far too late for there to be any reasonable hope of completion before the new term starts.

This makes me grumpy – which in turn leads to my behaviour towards others falling short of the standards to which I normally aspire. This culminated yesterday in what might be considered a mild incidence of ‘road rage’.

There is a point on my weary journey home at which a bottleneck on the motorway that I use – two lanes merging into one – inevitably causes the traffic to bunch and to slow down. The queue of vehicles shuffles forward sluggishly at this point – merging in turn in the accepted fashion (accepted in the UK at any rate!).

Or at least – that is what usually happens. Yesterday I was in the outside of the two lanes and I duly let the inside car go first and then moved to follow. The next driver in the inner lane – half a car-length behind me – had other ideas and proceeded to muscle his way forward preventing me from completing my maneuver. Forced to stop unexpectedly I glared at this inconsiderate automobilist, throwing my hands heavenwards in that time honoured gesture that is recognised the world over as meaning – “What the f*ck?”!

Normal behaviour on the part of the offender at this point is to make a show of not even being aware of one’s presence. In this case – to the contrary – the aggressor wound down his window and glared back – making gestures of his own and mouthing what I can only imagine to have been language of an ultramarine hue. He then proceeded to drive in what can only be described as a menacing manner – sometimes hovering in front of me, sometimes rather too close behind – in a fashion that suggested he was just waiting for me to come to a halt so that he might have an opportunity to leap from his motor to beat the cr*p out of me. Fortunately he had to turn off the motorway before I did, and I did not see him again.

Not pleasant – and not my doing, though I have no doubt that my mood probably exacerbated the situation.

The truth is that I do know – deep down – at least part of the reason for my present petulant frame of mind. Had our original scheme come to fruition as intended I would by now be retired and we would be busy establishing our new life in Victoria. Instead of which I find myself dragging my weary bones towards the start of another arduous academic year.

The Girl was sympathetic. “Go to work – ya hippie!”, she explained.

She had a point…

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DNA_Double_HelixWe are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a good motive.

Lord Byron

At the roughly equivalent point last year – shortly after the Kickass Canada Girl and I had returned from Provence and before she flew back to Victoria to face the as yet unanticipated storm – we met some very old friends of ours (and – in terms of longevity – of mine in particular) for a drink at a very pleasant pub in the Surrey hills. I posted concerning that rendezvous here – the subject of which being elicited by Oldest Friend’s wife’s then recent retirement.

It is a sad side-effect of busy modern lives that – although we met our friends subsequently once more before Christmas – we realised recently that we had not done so since. Indeed – we had not even spoken to them! We rectified this sorry omission at the weekend by meeting for a drink at an altogether different – but equally pleasant – pub in the Surrey hills. Much catching up was done but one major topic of our conversation was not dissimilar to that of the previous encounter, we being – quite naturally – most keen to learn how their first year of mutual retirement had gone.

This whole question is once again at the forefront of our minds and I will be posting further on the subject shortly. Given the current climate it is no surprise that many of us of advancing years find ourselves preoccupied with thoughts as to how we will live once we are no longer ‘economically active’. Being baby-boomers we are nowadays assailed routinely by (or more accurately ‘on behalf of’) those less fortunate than ourselves (for which – in this case – read ‘younger’) and lambasted by complaints (of increasing ferocity) that we are somehow stealing their birthrights and plundering their futures.

The irony is that what many of those of us with a particularly late-sixties upbringing (if not actually hippies then certainly empathisers!) thought we were doing was our bit to save the planet. We are a gentle people with left of centre persuasions. We care about the environment. We care about inequality. We care about injustice. We still want to know what’s so funny ’bout peace, love & understanding… Accusations of selfishness thus wound us deeply.

And yet…

Whereas it has always been in my nature to feel vaguely guilty that I earn a pretty decent salary for what doesn’t exactly seem like rocket science (to me, at any rate!) and that I have been hugely fortunate to have found myself – quite accidentally – a member of some really rather good pension schemes – and whereas on the rare occasions that I have been obliged to seek better terms and conditions the experience has left me feeling as though I had just been accused of indecent intrusion upon some innocent instance of ovis aries…

…I can’t help but observe that – of late – my demeanor in such circumstances has shifted somewhat – and I am become considerably more single minded when it comes to maximising my possible returns. I am uncomfortably aware that this is the inevitable result of the realisation that time is running out – and that once the deed is done and I am no longer gainfully employed then the opportunities to influence my standard of living become negligible.

But that don’t mean that I like it!

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Photo by Lazellion on FlickrIt 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.

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Photo by Andy Dawson Reid“Life isn’t a matter of milestones but of moments”

Rose F Kennedy

Here is one such moment – though one that does, as it happens, feel like something of a milestone…

Regular readers of these random jottings will be aware that – over the past 16 months or so – a number of targets, deadlines or turning points – what the navigators amongst you might call waypoints – have materialised only subsequently to evanesce. Amongst these were the movable feast that was to be my retirement, the uncertain date of my emigration to Canada and the point at which we might finally sell our apartment in Buckinghamshire.

All of these uncertainties give the whole process something of an air of unreality. It is all well and good laying plans and scheming schemes – deciding that such and such will be so – but until something concrete actually happens there is always a slight nagging feeling that one might just be pissing in the wind!

Well – an event has now occurred regarding which there can be no doubts.

At my previous school my pension age was sixty. Had I remained there I would now have been contemplating retirement in just over seven months time – regardless of any other plans that might have been made, or even of my own whims and fancies. Even so, the side-effect is that my pension from that school’s rather splendid scheme kicks in regardless shortly after the turn of the year – on the occasion of my sixtieth birthday.

I thus duly received – earlier this week – the forms necessary to set the process in motion. I have completed, signed and returned them. Though not in itself a particularly dramatic or life-changing event, it is the first real indicator that I am indeed approaching retirement – which occurrence itself truly will be momentous.

Now – that is a moment to celebrate!

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