Keeping Busy

Well, here we are late at night and I had the crazy idea to write a blog post. For those of you who thought me dead, this might come as a pleasant surprise......I would like to think???????

Anyway, I have decided to write a bit about what I do with my time in retirement, or at least since I gave up my job some 4 years ago now. It seems whenever you see any adverts on the telly to do with retirement (usually linked with DEATH....oh boy), they always seem to show the old man pottering around in the greenhouse or in the garden....or some suchlike thing. Often the wife is talking really enthusiastically about some "British Old Gits" death insurance policy which will ensure their loved ones will get all of £26.50 each to bury them when they pop their clogs, which, if the ads are to believed they are enthusiastically looking forward to! Well, OK, I wax lyrical and exagerate somewhat, but if you follow the popular fiction, your later non-working years are the twilight zone where you are in some kind of gardening, insurance paying limbo awaiting the arrival of the grim reaper. I decided this kind of retirement was not for me. It just isn't me, and it never will be. I am a retirement non-conformist.

So what DO I do with myself, I hear you ask (not). Well, I have developed an interest in the history of the RAF, and particularly RAF Wyton, the place where I began my career as a boy in blue, and finished my career 46 years later as a civvy, spookily habitating the same office as my first boss in 1967. How's that for full circle! RAF Wyton has by good fortune a heritage centre, and I have found a bit of a bolt hole there as a volunteer. I now spend time showing people around the exhibits as well as teaching them some history, though some know considerably more than me! We also do road-shows to educate the public as well as give talks both at the centre and away at libraries, WIs, Probus groups and such like. All the time I am having to keep reading and researching to increase my knowledge so I can speak more authoritatively . The subject matter is the entire history of RAF Wyton from 1916 to the present day, the RAF Path Finder Force (RAF Wyton was the Headquarters of the Path Finder Force in WWII), and photo reconnaisance, as the base has spent a lot of it's life in that sphere of activity.

In 2015 I had a surprise visit from our local District and Town councillor who thought it a good idea if I ran for the Town Council. This was all a bit of a surprise as I never saw myself in local government, though he had suggested it briefly before, and after a milisecond I said no. Obviousely he was not convinced! Following conversation over coffee and biscuits I decided, oh what the heck, and accepted to stand. The next thing I knew I was out knocking on doors around the ward and more or less got a friendly reception. On the night of the election I won 1306 votes which won me the seat.......so here I am doing my bit for the town as best I can. Given my background in media, I am now chair of the Media sub-committee as well as chair of the Town Twinning sub-committee. I am also vice chair of the Leisure and Community Services committee, to name a few of my responsibilities. Last year, the District Council in their infinite wisdom decided to cut our 4 year term short by one year so as to bring town and parish elections in line with the district elections. However, there is a twist in this tale in that I have decided not to stand next year. I was so disgusted with the policies and actions of the Conservative government and after a re-assessment of who I really am and what I really care about, I left the Conservative Party and joined the Green Party.  I have decided that I will be a Green activist in the future, but I will not be standing again for office, although I reserve the right to change my mind!

I am a lover of books. I am a real bookworm. For me, an hour in Waterstones is like a kid in his favourife toy shop or an alcoholic in a brewery!  I just can't get enough of books, and regard the gift of reading one of the most precious things in my life. In 2013, shortly after I packed in work, I went for a browse around my local Oxfam bookshop, which I had only just noticed, despite the fact that I must have walked past it many times over the years. I fell in love with the place instantly and offered myself up as a volunteer. A month or so later, following a holiday in Cornwall, I worked my first shift.  Since. then I have never looked back. The manager is a  man who in his previous life was a college English teacher. The ethos of the shop is number one, have fun, number two, offer the customer the best experience you can. We get masses of donations, and some of what we get turn out to be real gems, including first editions which we might sell for hundreds of pounds. We do a big trade in vinyl records, which have made a big comeback in recent years. Many of our customers are serious collectors and it is not unusual for a customer to spend a three figure sum before walking out the door. Of course, we are very particular in what we put out for sale at the front of shop, as we have built up a reputation which we have no intention of tarnishing. We also, as well as selling things, give our support to local artists. These can be painters, contempory artists, or musicians. A couple of weeks ago we sponsored a concert by two local rock groups at a local hotel. I did the photography for the event, the prints from which will soon be used as a window display.

So there we are. There is a lot more I do than I have mentioned here, but it ought to be apparent that I am far from having nothing to do and have no excuse for being bored, though I have to say, I did spend an hour trimming our front hedge earlier this afternoon.

A Royal Visit

This morning when I awoke, I wished my wife a happy birthday, and before she could get out of bed I lavished lots of really nice presents on her. I don’t do this sort of thing every morning, only on those which happen to be her birthday, otherwise she’d get very confused – you understand.

After I had walked the dog and my wife had spring cleaned the whole house, practiced her Kung Fu and said goodbye to the milkman, we jumped into the car and set off to Sandringham House to see Liz and Phil. We arrived to find that Liz and Phil must have got wind of our surprise visit, and decided to surprise us themselves by not being there!

I have driven through, around and by Sandringham many times in the past, but never actually stopped to get out and see how the other side live. As my wife and I are manic photographers and we had both taken the day off work to have a birthday day out, Sandringham seemed an obvious choice, as well as a place where people of our refined breeding and high standing in society would feel naturally at home.

After parking the car – a Kia Carens – (I believe the Queen is thinking of getting one herself soon), the first port of call was the bog. My wife reported to the throne room, while I made my way to the House of Lords – where all the big knobs hang out. Feeling suitably relieved and flushed, we made a bee line to the hise ………….errrr………I mean the house. Before entering in, we amused ourselves frolicking in the gardens and wondering at the fat golden statue of the Buddha, and seeing how many ways we could photograph Old Father Time – his statue, that is.

The SS Guard at the entrance to the house ordered us to put our cameras away, or at least switch them off, as well as our mobile phones. He assured us that if we didn’t we would not be shot, but did not tell us what fate would really befall us if we disobeyed.

The house was full, as you would expect, of very old and highly ornate furniture. It was clear the Queen doesn’t go to Ikea. As well as all the other paraphernalia, there were lots of weapons – guns, swords, spears, knives etc. It was apparent that the house had a dark side apart from making money from the visiting peasants, and that was killing poor, unsuspecting animals. One of the attendants assured me that the Royals would be up before Christmas to bag a few more. Great fun for them, though their prey might see it differently.

I took a close look, donning my reading glasses, at a shell from the Boer War which had been adapted and transformed into a clock, which stood pointing proudly to the ceiling. The attendant leaned over to me and said that it was actually an unexploded shell, and implied it could still explode. I suggested it was just biding its time, awaiting the right moment…………

Being a bit of a bookworm, I paid particular interest to the very sumptuous ancient books adorning the shelves of the glass fronted book cabinets. There were amongst others, history books, political books, and books of speeches by people now made obscure by the mists of antiquity.

“I wonder if they ever open any of the books and actually read them”, an old man asked rhetorically. I commented to my wife that maybe the Queen was a member of the “Folio Society” – but maybe not.

Leaving the house behind, we continued our wonderings around the grounds, taking in the museum while we were at it.

I have got to say that the gardens are absolutely beautiful, amongst the most lovely gardens I have ever visited anywhere in the world. It was a real pleasure walking by the lake and smelling the aromas from all the flowers which were everywhere.

We did laugh at one point – oh how we laughed – when we came across an old dear having a conversation on her mobile phone. She was speaking very loudly, so we couldn’t miss her. What made us titter was just how sickeningly posh she was verbeaging across the network. “Yes” was replaced by “yaah” – she wasn’t German. Maybe she was affected by where she was. Maybe that once she got outside of the wire, she would revert to a more “Gore blimey guvner” sort of way……or maybe not.

We concluded our exploration of the estate in visiting the Church – you know, the one the Royals are always seen on the telly walking into on Christmas Day. It’s called the Church of St Mary Magdalene. To look at from the outside it looks like a perfectly ordinary Parish Church. However, once you step inside you are confronted by one of the most beautiful and ornate alters I have seen in such a church. Clearly, the Royal connection has benefitted it well.

It cost us £9 each to visit the Royal Estate, and in my opinion it was worth every penny.
We polished off what had been a perfect day with a large soft ice cream cornet each, and a plate of fish and chips at a restaurant in Hunstanton. The sun shone all day, and set - surrounded by a pink horizon.