It seems to be a common reaction; I mention to people that I was given a canoe for my birthday and they laugh. "What?" they say "You? - in a canoe?" "Are you serious?" And when I assure them it is true they just smile and chuckle to themselves. It's not like I don't have a track record in trying sporting activities. Being lapped in a 2 lap fun run or tearing a muscle when kicking a football are proof that I'll have a go (nobody said anything about being any good!).
Nevertheless Mike and I were secretly relieved that it rained throughout the last Bank Holiday weekend which meant we were unable to undertake our maiden canoe voyage, as it would have been accompanied by various family members all waiting for us to take an untimely dip in the sea . (Although nothing will beat the cold of the sea on 1 January 1983). Finally the sun shone on a day when we were both free and the tide was within viewing distance of the beach and it was time to hit the water.
We travelled north to the beautiful village of Blakeney to head out from the village towards the sea. There is a 4 mile long spit of land (where hundreds of seals live) that forms almost a lagoon so we felt that we'd be protected there and in little danger of being swept out to sea. A helpful passing walker held onto the canoe as first I got in and then Mike and off we went. (It would have been a bit of a challenge without someone holding it steady). My brother is able to testify that the trickiest bit of canoeing is getting in.
After a few minutes I realised that although we'd both be canoeing or kayaking before on holidays in America and France, we had never paddled together. We'd had always been in separate canoes with one of the children each. On those occasions both of us as the adult in the boat had been in charge and had controlled the direction and co-ordinated the paddling in unison.
The wet shorts from my poor paddling technique were matched by the water down my back, courtesy of Mike's poor paddling. Fortunately it was one of the hottest days of the year so it felt quite refreshing. I fear that on normal summer days that I won't be quite as happy.
We headed out to the lagoon, moving aside to let the yachts and small motor boats past and occasionally turning around to savour the view. Out in the main channel we headed towards the edge of the spit but quickly realised that with the tide turning and a strong wind it would be sensible not to overdo things. As we headed back we caught sight of a tern diving into the water, catching a small fish and flying back to feed her chick nesting on the edge of the marshes.
Although we had secured our keys and money in a dry sack we didn't risk a camera so sadly I can't bring you pictures of our maiden voyage. Our technique can't have been too bad because neither of us felt any aches or pains the day after; either that or we weren't putting in enough effort.
Agreeing on who should be the lead paddler may be one sort of marital tension in the coming weeks but a much bigger rift is looming; one that is likely to last for almost 13 years.
Yesterday I agreed with my boss that I will take an additional payment in lieu of working out my full notice and so will leave the bank on 31 July. I'm allowed on gardening leave in a few weeks, nicely timed for the start of Wimbledon fortnight. Shortly after that discussion an email arrived from the pension department advising me of my options. It is so tempting to refuse on principle to become a pensioner at the age of 50 but to do so would be financial madness so I will have to bite the bullet and accept the offer. That would be fine if it it could happen quietly and discreetly but being married to Mike we all know that is the last thing that will happen. It would appear that despite being the youngest (by some distance!) of all of our old rotaract friends, I will be the first to be drawing a pension. Since Mike is unable to draw any of his pensions until he is 65 I have years and years to listen to him telling me he is living with a pensioner (and I have heard so many variations on this theme already).
For the record, let me make it clear that although I concede that in a technical sense I will be a pensioner from 1 August, in every other sense there is - that won't be the case. I am not retiring. I am already job hunting and intend to follow the advice of a motivational speaker Denis Waitley who said “Chase your passion, not your pension.”
Watch this space for more details on where that passion will lead. In the meantime it is just 13 working days to go before I'll be sent out into the garden to weed and water, pick fruit and make jam.......unless of course I get too much stick from him indoors in which case I'll just have to say I'm too old for all of this....don't you know that I'm a pensioner and I'll get the sun-lounger out!
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