A couple of weeks before my “leaving
do” with work colleagues, my wife had organised a party to mark my 60th
birthday.
This was a fairly extravagant evening. It included a wine reception, a two-course meal for about 75 people, a beautiful cake, and after-dinner speeches. It also involved the hiring of a jazz singer whose voice sounded very like old blue eyes, Frank Sinatra. The venue was Belfast Boat Club.
The last time I did anything like this
was when I was 21. On that occasion, my
godfather had sent me a special birthday present - £10. A tidy sum in 1970. It was enough to rent a ballroom in a
salubrious hotel close to the university, one of the few safe places of
entertainment in those early days of the “troubles.”
That decision turned out to be a wise
investment. Contrary to my expectations
and the impecuniosity of students, I received loads of presents such as Parker
pens and bottles of alcohol. As far as I
can recall, it was a memorable occasion, despite the fact that I provided no
meal or music.
Thirty-nine years on, this party was an
opportunity to road-test my thoughts about being a pensioner and retirement to
a largely non-work audience. And perhaps
use a line or two at the subsequent work do.
The italicised words that follow cover
the gist of what I think I said. Some
details may have differed. That’s what
happens when you stand up, look your audience in the eyes, and extemporize
rehearsed ad libs.
I began by attempting mimic the then (2009) new President of the USA.
Fellow citizens
This week the world became a better
place.
Strangely enough, I’m not referring to
the date of my birthday earlier this week, or even to the events in Washington
DC a couple of days ago.
It might even seem ironic for me to make
such a claim when a new recession bites and my bank makes the biggest loss in UK
corporate history. I do, however, know
that they are really looking forward to getting their hands on my pension even
though it will not suffice to bail them out.
The reason the world is now better is
that at long last January 19 has now been declared a public holiday.
The bad news is that so far only
Americans have been able to celebrate my birthday (Martin Luther King
Day). I too have a dream.
Tonight however is a unique once in a
lifetime opportunity.
Reaching 60 is not so much a milestone,
more of a big deal.
So I am excited – delirious even – that
it coincides with my retirement.
The question is – why should one so
talented, so energetic, so youthful, so modest (false deleted) retire now.
I remember Woody Allen once describing
his brain as his second favourite organ.
Since my two favourite organs seem to be doing just fine, the time has come for me to hang up Her
Majesty’s Treasury Green Book.
I may be retiring from work, but I do not
intend to retire from anything else.
It’s time to live a little. Time to delete work from the phrase work-life
balance.
I know that there is a lot of sex,
drugs and rock’n roll out there waiting to be discovered; there are so many
places for me to visit, symphonies to hear, books to read and maybe to write.
It’s time to live in my creative
imagination – today I think that is the safest place to be.
Anyway, I am not a retiring sort of
person.
I’m retiring from work because I can –
before they raise the retirement age and definitely before they scrap pensions
altogether.
I am one of the lucky generation. While I have vague memories of seeing ration
books and farthings, we baby boomers missed out on post-war austerity and on
national service.
We grew up in the golden era of modern
music – and that’s what paid our family’s bills in Omagh.
My parents’ business was record sales,
not to mention bicycles, fireworks, TVs and radios, wet batteries, guns and ammunition,
guitars – you name it my grandfather & father sold it.
On third level education, our
generation received grants as Government regarded education as a good investment, and there were no
fees. Student debt was a thing of the
future.
When I last had a party like this, my
godfather sent me a £10 note, which was enough for me to rent the grand ballroom of
the Wellington Park Hotel. The occasion
being my 21st birthday.
The only thing I envy about students’
lifestyle today is that now they take a gap year.
I realise that it’s
time/overdue/obligatory for me to take a nice long one.
As a dress rehearsal for my new role, I
have been on holiday for a week or two. As
a result, I am now in a strong position to reveal exclusive first impressions
of what retirement is really like.
How I have managed to fit in full-time
work into my hectic schedule non-stop since 20 August 1973 escapes me
completely.
My typical day - if there is such a
thing - (that is when I am not on the sun-baked snowy summits of the Sella
Ronda in the Dolomites) begins with a leisurely breakfast with time to read
the paper and to check share prices (then throw the paper away), next saunter
down to the gym using my free bus pass, later go to a music gig in the Black
Box.
If there is anybody here whose parents
told them that life’s not a bed of roses, do not believe this.
I remember O-level French and the line from
the great poet (Pierre de Ronsard) – «Cueillez des aujourd’hui, les roses de la
vie» translated into Latin means carpe diem.
I wake
up and smell the roses every morning.
Time for the reality check, however.
Now that I am 60 (not an OAP more a new
Age Pensioner), it is time to stop wishing my life away.
No more living for the weekend; no more
wishing that the summer holidays would come quicker.
I have to say that being in the present
is impossible when you’re a town planner. You are either looking back to learn
from the past or looking ahead to make the world a better place for tennis players.
Now for the first time I can try to
apply my yoga teacher’s mantra which is to live in the moment, now, in the
present.
This year 2009 is full of
important anniversaries.
There are so many, that I have selected
some that are relevant to this occasion.
It is the 200th anniversary
of the births of Mendelssohn and of Charles Darwin; the 150th of the
publication of the Origin of the Species;
It is the 80th anniversary
of the very first North West 200 (the winner in 1935 being meus pater);
It is the 60th anniversary
of Ireland becoming a Republic.
And by the way, Ireland won the Triple Crown that year, having won the grand slam the year before (1948) – which means that not once in my lifetime have we won the grand slam;
And by the way, Ireland won the Triple Crown that year, having won the grand slam the year before (1948) – which means that not once in my lifetime have we won the grand slam;
2009 is the 30th anniversary
of my Presidency of Omagh Junior Chamber of Commerce;
In addition, it is the 20th
anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall.
My connection is that along with four
friends, we ran the 1990 Berlin Marathon which took place the same weekend as the
political reunification of Germany and the race route entered the east for the
first time ever.
I also share my birth date (not year)
with Paul Cézanne, Edgar Allen Poe, Simon Rattle, Janis Joplin and Dolly
Parton, Richard Dunwoody and Denis Taylor – there can’t be a single person in
this room who is not insanely jealous that these famous people are in such
illustrious company.
To conclude, in 20 years time when my
grandchildren ask me what did I say at my 60th birthday party, I’ll
be able to tell them that
- I set out a history of the world for the last 200 years;
- I paid homage to the Civil Rights leader Martin Luther King;
- I outlined a perspicacious analysis of the collapse of supply-side economics and the theory of monetarism;
- I paid tribute to the my father;
- I spoke in many tongues; and best of all
- I can tell them that I spelled out the philosophy for a happy life and peace to make the world a better place.
Because apart from this (if anybody really does bother to ask), I didn’t
really say anything other than
- to thank you for supporting my charity bike ride and
- to thank my beautiful wife for arranging this great party.
Slainte.
At
this stage I presented Marie with a well-earned bunch of 24 red roses. Happily, our guests showed their warm
appreciation for her wonderful hospitality.
The
roses do indeed smell sweeter.
©Michael
McSorley 2015
