The retired life

The weather has been somewhat revolting for the last couple of weeks - rainy and sometimes very windy - so we've sought indoor activities. For example, we went to an exhibition featuring the art of the printer over the centuries. I would very much have this Elizabeth Blackadder on my walls, thank you.

I love the cat's fed-up expression, all in the eyes. 

In complete contrast is this, by Claude Mellan (1598-1688). The entire picture is one line, starting on the tip of the nose and moving outwards, the darker areas being made when the line(s) get closer together.

The line is an estimated 150 metres long. I hope that M. Mellan would be pleased that, four-ish centuries after he slaved away on it, people are still finding it amazing. 

On Saturday, hooray, the sun shone for our walking group, so we took advantage of this. (I'm in the middle, with a black coat.) It was lovely to be outside, stretching the old legs. 

I'm getting on with quilting Big Granddaughter's dragon quilt (dragons not pictured). She's given me detailed instructions on how to quilt it. I might have chosen less labour-intensive ways, but she was firm. 

Another wet day we went to the museum, where there was an exhibition of wildlife photography. 

A mum and baby hippo by Mike Korostolev. 

A horseshoe crab, which is seemingly not a crab at all, with some fish which are hovering about, hoping  that the horseshoe non-crab will disturb something that they can then eat. This was taken by Laurent Ballesta and won the Wildlife Photographer of the Year. 

This is very impressive too, by Amit Eshel: two Nubian ibex having a fight. Kind of symbolises what's going on in the world, led by idiot males. At least the ibex are only endangering themselves. 

And today it wasn't raining so we walked along the river through Stockbridge. Look how wide the river is at the moment, after all that rain. 

It was peaceful, though. 

We took some stuff to charity shops - we do this so often that I can't understand why we still have so much stuff left - must try harder -

and enjoyed the sunshine and exercise. 
 

Autumn rambling

It's been lovely weather for walking and we've been doing just that, both in town, as above, and along the canal, as below. The autumn colours haven't been as good as in recent years, presumably because it's been too warm or dry or something.

There have been a couple of frosty mornings but these Michaelmas daisies seem undeterred.

As do these thistly things.

It must have been a while since we walked along there: these chaps have now appeared beside the path. They look a bit disapproving.

The sun was very low in the sky as we ended our walk and it was still only 3pm, though of course the clocks have gone back so it felt like 4 o'clock really.

Isn't it splendid to be retired and have the freedom to do this sort of thing? How lucky are we?

Teaching and other matters

It's quiet around Life Towers at the moment. Mr L had a cataract removed from his right eye on Tuesday and while it has improved his vision, it seems to have left him feeling a bit weary. In addition, the other grandmother is staying at Daughter 1's and so I've not been needed so much to entertain the little ones. Which is fine - quite restful - but I find it interesting how, when I haven't had so many commitments as usual, I somehow haven't achieved great things either. Hmm. Laziness spawns further laziness, I suppose.

Not that I've been totally lazy: the usual cooking, ironing, Zumba, coffee with friends, piano lesson, piano practice and so on have been going on. And it's been church magazine week, which is always quite time-consuming (I edit it). 

I'm slightly surprised that I'm still going to Zumba. I think I started four years ago and I'm definitely not an athletic, bendy or extrovert person. But I'm reasonably energetic and might well have taken up aerobics in retirement (after a lapse of 30 years) if a friend hadn't been going to Zumba - she immediately dropped out because it hurt her knees but I stayed on. The great thing about being in a class is that no one is looking at anyone else, since they're all watching the teacher and following his moves, so I don't need to be embarrassed at my lack of grace.

Before we got this teacher, I quite liked the class but did it mainly for the exercise (and the chat with other class members beforehand). But the chap we've had for the past year is somehow so much better than the various girls we had before. For one thing, he's reliable - we had teachers before who didn't last long or who kept being off. But it's not just that, and as a former teacher myself I always find it interesting to analyse what makes good teaching.

He's great to watch - he's also a ballet, tap and ballroom teacher - because he's very bouncy, flexible and graceful. Of course, not all of this would be easy to transfer to teaching maths, for example. Bouncing opportunities are a bit limited for academic subjects. But I find his attitude towards the class very interesting. About half of them are about my age - though some are considerably younger - and you might expect his heart to sink at the thought of teaching a bunch of old ladies. But he always seems to be enjoying himself tremendously. I imagine it's very pleasurable to dance when you're really good at it. It's more than that, though: he manages to give the impression that he enjoys showing us the steps and seeing us give them a go. He's good fun and very encouraging but also not at all patronising. He laughs a lot with (apparent) delight. Obviously it's possible that it's all an act, but if so, it's an excellent act.

To a woman, we all think he's wonderful and look forward to the class.

I think back on various teachers I had at school and university, and the ones who seemed to enjoy teaching were usually the most effective. I myself enjoyed teaching - most of the time - and hope that this came across.

An hour of energetic dancing is absolutely exhausting, though, so I'm hoping it's also extremely good for us.

Mystery objects

Well, it's not often that I have a sewing project to show off, so here's something I made yesterday.

What is it? Or rather, what are they?

Yes of course - they're donkeys' nosebands.

Now, Thimbleanna, tell me that I've made something that you haven't!

In countries where donkeys are used to pull things, they often get sores from being rubbed by the chains round their noses, and the World Society for the Protection of Animals organises people to make these fur fabric tubes (held together by Velcro) to protect them.

http://www.wspa.org.uk/ - should you wish to do the same.

A friend has organised a sewing bee to sew some, but I couldn't go along, so did some at home. It's not exactly precision needlework - indeed my sewing machine said some very rude things when I asked it to sew through furry stuff and Velcro - but it did it all right. It's quick and easy and presumably makes a difference to the poor donkeys.

In other news... well, nothing really. Learning music, reading books, doing crosswords, walking. All rather unproductive but pleasant enough. One feels one ought to be improving the shining hour. Maybe I'll get the patchwork out again. Now that's useful - cutting up material and sewing it back together.

That noise you hear is the grinding of my teeth...

Right now, bloggy friends, explain this to me.

Last year, I was a reasonably competent person. My life mainly called upon me to prepare lessons, teach, mark, cook, make the garden look pretty and do various services for my extended family. I feel I was fairly good at all of those things.

Then I retired. Now I'm trying to learn how to play the piano and am finding it really difficult. I have joined a more advanced choir, for which I had to audition (argh) and whose members are better at sightreading than I am (never mind the singing). I've taken up knitting after 30 years and when I make mistakes (which I do) am currently having to get Daughter 1 to sort them for me. And then there's the Zumba, which I never thought I'd be good at; and was correct.

Why am I doing this to myself? My life has become one long round of frustration.

Note to self: find a hobby I can actually do.

Still, at least I can, on the whole, spell, unlike the person responsible for a memorial announcement in our national newspaper today: "Jim, so deeply loved, so sourly missed". Oh dear.

Improving the shining hour

 

Now, Thimbleanna and Molly Bawn: are you sitting down? Are you sure? Maybe you should hold on tightly to the arms of the chair. Because - I've started knitting! See below: I've done four rows. Well, it's a start.

 

 

A while ago, I acquired this book which gives patterns for lots of knitted blocks ranging from so-easy-that-a-baby-could-do-them to slightly-harder to slightly-harder-again. I've started with one of the easy-peasy examples and plan to graduate to the ones for which I'll have to stick out my tongue and frown. I'm going to knit enough to make a patchwork blanket. (Possibly for a doll, if I find it all a bit tedious.) I really have no desire to knit socks or a jumper but I thought that even I might manage a few squares.

 

I did knit a bit before the children were born. I knitted Mr Life a hat, a cardigan and a waistcoat, with V shapes at the front and everything. But I was never particularly keen. I never got to the point when I could do it without concentrating.

 

I also used to sew things: I made loose covers for a couple of chairs, lots of curtains and cushion covers, even a patchwork cushion cover in the log cabin pattern with plastic templates to cut out paper shapes. But I can't now quite imagine that I did some of this. I feel deskilled by the passing of the years.

 

When Anna came to visit, she very kindly brought me a cutting board, a cutting wheel and some lovely material to start me on patchwork. And I will start, Anna (and Molly). Life has just been a bit full of event recently, what with weddings and funerals and rearrangements of the house and visitors and holidays. Not to say Grandson. I need a period of calm and a flat surface and a clear head: none of these is in plentiful supply at the moment.

 

Especially this particular moment. Tony the Painter arrives tomorrow (I hope) to redecorate our study. This is the smallest of our rooms, which normally contains a LOT of stuff: archives of various sorts, household documents, photograph albums and so on, not to say three desks, a chest of drawers and a bureau. This has now all been moved into what was my mother's bedroom and WE WON'T BE ABLE TO FIND ANYTHING TILL IT'S ALL BACK AGAIN. ARGH.

 

And we really need to go through it and be ruthless. Do I need to keep every programme of every school concert that the children appeared in? The not-so-nice school photos? All the children's drawings? Every postcard they ever wrote? All the newspapers that ever reported on a momentous event? (I thought they would be interesting to look at when I was old. And so they might be, if I did. But do the offspring want to deal with them when I'm dead?)

 

And I probably need to admit that though I might polish up one or two languages, it's over-optimistic to hope that I'll really get fluent in Spanish, German, Gaelic, Japanese, Swedish and modern Greek as well as French and Latin. Yes, I have notes, books and / or tapes and dictionaries for all of these languages. Perhaps I have to face the fact that I'll only ever have a smattering of most of these.

 

And now I must go and practise the piano - now there's another of my unrealistic ambitions!

 

 

 

 

Pom POM, pom

Mr Life and I went to the Botanics this afternoon and strolled around in a retired sort of way. The daffodils were very pretty.

As were the hellebores.

And the camellias.

And here's pretty Mr Life in front of some rhododendrons.

Then we came home and he sat at his miniature railway workbench to ... not very sure ... make little holes in bits of plastic, or at least that's what he was doing when I took the picture.

.

And so another day passed. Oh, and I did quite a bit of piano practice (well, several lots of ten minutes) because my lesson is tomorrow. My teacher told me last week to practise my ragtime pieces of music and "make them into party pieces". Hmm. Not sure I'd invite anyone to this party, but I'm improving.

Retro rattles

What have we been doing this weekend? Well, I decided that it was time to unearth from the attic what I remembered to be one of the world's largest collection of rattles. Daughter 1 particularly, as a baby, took a lot of entertaining if I were ever to succeed in doing the dishes or changing the beds. Above, you see some of the items with which I used to attempt to divert her. Since I hoped to be a granny one day, I didn't get rid of these once the youngest (Son) had passed the rattle stage. These are only the small baby toys. I have lots more for later stages of development.
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I spent quite a long time washing them.

Grandson tested them out today. That yellow one beside his foot is Daughter 1's very first rattle. I referred to them as "antique" rattles but she took slight exception to the term and suggested "retro".

He had fun with them, whatever they are.

Meanwhile, Mr Life began tackling my list of Things I Want You To Do Once You Retire by making a door for this shelf. It holds our hats and scarves and gloves and can get rather messy in the winter, when we keep going in and out, taking such items on and off the shelf. I didn't take a "before" picture but you can imagine what it looked like: a shelf.

And now look: a wee cupboard. There is a slight unforeseen snag, which is that since the door folds down to be horizontal and sticking outwards (see first shelf picture) and I am not as tall as Mr Life, I now can't quite reach the back. But a plaintive cry brings Mr Life running, so that's ok.

Then, neatly swerving from my List, he made himself a little work station (this is it folded up, but it's like a little desk with a light) for working on his model railway layout (not that he has one yet but he has ambitions. No, I don't really understand why either, but you know. If it makes him happy.). As you can see, this doubles as a cat lookout station.

And my amaryllis is flowering nicely.

As are my supermarket daffodils.

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I sometimes wonder how we cope with the excitement.

Stripy shirt

Thank you, Desiree, for your very kind comment! Can't quite remember why I didn't post at the weekend - combination of a lack of time, lack of anything happening and the feeling that I sometimes get along the lines of - why on earth would anyone be interested in my burblings about babies and cats?

He is a very fine baby, though.

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Today at Zumba the reed-slim, very bendy young teacher was back again. She's so smily and enthusiastic, punctuating her energetic twistings and dancings with cries of "Hey!" My friend and I, in common with the rest of the class, don't really have the spare breath for any heys. At the beginning of the class, she told us with a huge smile that she was on holiday last week and while away, got engaged. The ring is being made smaller but "I'll show it to you all next week!" So sweet.

Grandson is good at smiling for the camera - I swear that I take so many photos of him that he realises that this is what he's supposed to do - but with my digital camera, there's a delay so I sometimes miss the moment. But this photo shows off his splendid eyelashes.

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Proud Granny? Just a bit.

The study and The Big Bang

It's been one of those nothing days when the most exciting thing that happens is going to be when we watch two episodes of "The Big Bang Theory". Perhaps I should take this as a sign that I shouldn't post a blog entry today. However...

In my teaching time, such a peaceful day would have seemed a great joy so I shouldn't really complain. But it's a bit scary when you contemplate the day and realise that it's slipped uneventfully away, carrying you slightly closer to the grave. Ah yes, cheerful as usual. We didn't do nothing. I took my mother to and from her Probus club; I made soup; Mr Life and I went to Tesco - where, excitingly for him, he bought himself an Android tablet (I think that's right) with the money collected for him as a leaving present. So at least he's a happy chap. And I'm tidying the study which, when it's done, will give me a sense of satisfaction - though in fact it needs a deeper tidy (a purge of all the drawers and shelves) than it's going to get.

A month or so ago, Mr Life bought the first four series of "The Big Bang Theory" and we're really enjoying it. He'd previously been watching it for some time, but the episodes he found on cable (was it?) tended to be in the wrong order. I occasionally walked through the room where he was watching it but saw only the odd ten minutes at first and didn't get sucked in . But then I did. It's rather pathetic that I really look forward to my daily two episodes a night of BBT, but we must take our pleasures where we can. If you've never seen it, it's about four young scientists who're very clever but in various degrees have their feet some way off the ground; and the girl across the hallway who isn't academic but is much more sensible. Later, other girls come into the story too. It's very amusing - makes fun of geekiness but not in an unkind way.

Anyway, as you may have guessed, this post is an avoidance tactic - back to my study-tidying.

(Oooh, look, paragraph spaces!)

Tuesday morning walk

After my piano lesson today, Mr Life came and met me. We had coffee in the coffee shop below my teacher's flat and then walked home. We crossed the canal and saw some new flats with berths for boats.

Later we walked through Roseburn Park along beside the burn (little stream).

This house has a little seating platform at the end of its garden, just above the burn, presumably so that the occupants can sit and watch the wildlife - not to say the people in the park.

We watched a squirrel running along from tree to tree to tree to tree. I took some photos but running squirrels don't make good subjects for one's phone camera. So this is just a picture of the burn.

I don't think that my photo of these birds - a male and female mallard and a female goosander - is going to win any prizes for wildlife photography.

This photo of one and a half goosanders, not taken by me, is considerably better. Not to say very cute.

The house which has the seat beside the water at the end of its garden is one of these houses on the right. You wouldn't guess the existence of the burn and the park if you didn't know, would you? This is the main road into the centre of town.

All in all, we decided that the way we spent our morning was possibly more fun than working.

Idleness

This is a picture of central Edinburgh. In front of the Castle you can see the art galleries and underneath the right-hand one, with windows looking out on to the gardens, is a restaurant.

Here's a closer photo of it.

And now we're inside.

I met a friend here today, a retired teacher like me. We sat for quite a long time, she drinking tea, I drinking cappuccino, both of us nibbling shortbread. We discussed many things, including the beauty and sweetness of our grandchildren. We looked out at the Edinburgh skyline. She said meditatively, "Do you know, I think this is probably more fun than teaching."

I think she may have been right.