“Where does all the time go?”
This is a regular mantra of sixty-plus year olds and one
which, I strongly suspect, annoys people who are in their twenties, thirties,
forties and even fifties.
Nostalgia might well be a thing of the past, but let’s flash
back – ever so briefly - to the start of 2009.
Last month as I launched eagerly into year seven of independent bliss I
spent a few moments reflecting on my final full day in the workplace.
Despite not having bought any houses (or hotels) in the
intervening period, metaphors fly round my head as I feel as though I’ve now passed
Go six times on the monopoly board. Pardon me, but
where does the time go?
My thoughts on that day of transition went something like
this. I even put a title on it.
The
start of an era
At
my desk, as normal, waiting for my computer to boot up. It’s the first working day of the New
Year. It is also my own very last full day
in work.
The thought that I will work
just this one day in 2009 should breeze me through today. Tomorrow will be Saturday - as will every day
after that.
Even
at 8 30 in the morning the office that houses our team of less than 20 people
is quieter than normal. Staff are in no
rush back from the festivities of yuletide and new year.
The groups of desk pods arranged into little
groups of four are mostly empty.
Almost
perversely, the only other person here at the start of the working day is the
one who travels furthest.
Like
a reflection of these paradoxes, I have mixed emotions. How exhilarating is the feeling of having the
prospect of freedom to do as I please when I please.
Yet behind the glee lurks the quiescent
thought of how I will manage the unknown, a new lifestyle without the routine
of a job which has occupied me in a variety of guises for over a third of a
century.
Will I, for instance, be able
to afford to do all that I want?
Negativity, however, is not a convenient feeling at present.
For
now, such musings must wait, for I have work to complete. I need to finish off a task that I have been
working on in the days between Christmas and the New Year.
There is too much to do to prevent the danger
of being distracted by any feeling of demob happiness. Anyway, wartime metaphors do not one appeal to
the pacifist in me.
Completing
my career in the public sector while being occupied productively right through
to the very end. I do not intend to let
my guard drop and be subject to criticism for slacking.
In the same way, leaving on a day when most
people are away from here and off work is an ideal way to depart. There will be no embarrassing speeches. Pomp can wait for another day.
I would not have wanted it any other way. I can open the door later and go home without
ceremony. It could not have worked out
any better.
But
then I am a planner. The profession of
town and country planning, which was invented legislatively just over a year
before I was born, has enabled me to live and support my family since
graduation two generations ago.
I take
quiet pride in the quality and variety of the work I have done, and in the
experience of life that I have been fortunate enough to gain.
At a
time when public sector staff are criticised for above average sickness levels,
I have kept quiet about having taken no days off sick in my last three decades
at work. Maybe due to a combination of
sex, athletics and rock’n’roll. More
likely just good luck.
The important
thing is that I have been fortunate to have had responsibility for many
exciting planning and regeneration projects in a range of roles and locations over
that time.
In
retrospect, I can take a little satisfaction in being one of the first planners
to staff the newly established planning office in my home town of Omagh in
1973. A subsequent change to running the
Enniskillen office for over five years and working on different projects
prompted by the needs of tourism in the most scenic of counties was my first
big challenge.
Latterly
I was transferred to Belfast to help pioneer the new planning role in
regenerating deprived communities. I am
very happy that this work occupied almost half of my career. Those are projects which have benefitted small towns and villages here.
Now today I am finishing after three years
doing the type of planning that won me the professional institute’s book prize
awarded for university planning schools – regional planning.
In that sense, I have come full circle.
However
fortunate the past seems, after today it will be time to think about the future
with the goal of getting the most out of life, feeling fulfilled. Away from the environment of the office, I
have already started thinking ahead.
I
do not retire officially until the end of the month. A backlog of annual leave means that I can afford to take all of January – apart from today and my later day of
farewells – as annual leave. The rest of
the month will be a rehearsal for what’s to come from February onwards.
Retirement
will be time to try new things. In a few
days time I am booked to go snowshoeing for the first time. This will be in Italy with my youngest
daughter and friends. Soon after that
trip, I have to go to Cambridge to meet a close friend and plan our bike trip
on the Camino de Santiago di Compostela in the late spring.
A
major task, and one that will consume much energy during the first year, is
that I have to work on my recently launched fund-raising project for the
charity Mencap. This is as I prepare to enter for the charity’s bike ride to
Argentina and Chile next year.
Taking
part in that event will be the ultimate goal to achieve in my first year as a
free man.
A
bonus of retirement is that no more will we be limited to school holidays for
trips abroad. My wife retires in about
six month’s time.
When I travel to
foreign places in the future, I do not want to be a package tourist. I prefer to be more like an adventurer, an
explorer even. Another commitment is a
holiday at Easter in Spain where a friend owns a house on the south coast, not
far from Gibraltar.
I
also have to finalise arrangements for a visit to Scotland in February when Ireland
play against the Scots in the 6 Nations. Ireland last won the big prize, the Grand Slam, the year
before I was born. Will that ever
change?
Visiting Scotland gives me
another opportunity to visit family - my son who is expecting to be a father in
about six months time; as well as fitting in a visit to my eldest daughter and
grandsons.
Apart
from these journeys, there will also be an office farewell party to attend
within the next few weeks.
To ensure
that I acquit myself properly, I want to prepare two documents as I bid my
employers and colleagues a final farewell.
One will be a written narrative of my life as
a professional planner. If I can record
my career accurately, that account will allow me to provide my employer with a
thorough and factual account of my time in the Northern Ireland planning
system.
Just as importantly, by doing
this, it will free me to make a valedictory speech which contains only fleeting
but subtle references to my record. Instead, the speech should be entertaining, concentrating on bonhomie and some humour, like
stand-up if possible.
One
early thought to include in the farewell remarks is the need to say why I am
retiring at the age of 60.
In essence, I
have three reasons. One is because I
can.
Another is that I need to go now before the retirement age is raised, as
inevitably it will after the collapse of the financial sector beginning with
Lehman Brothers in the autumn just past. The other reason is that I want to depart
before economic imperatives lead to pensions being reduced, or even abolished, as
surely they might will be at some stage.
I
want to use the benefits of the new-found freedom to have a fulfilling life.
Apart from travelling and keeping the body in
a healthy state, I can think about doing my bit behind the scenes for the
voluntary and charitable sectors. Perhaps roll up the sleeves and help some
environmental organisation; perhaps get back into an activity that I put on
hold when I transferred to Belfast almost 20 years ago, namely working on the
arts.
I
can also think about the ethos which the Junior Chamber ingrained into us – “self-improvement.”
One way of doing this is by enrolling
for night classes at Queens University.
I
want to experiment and test my creative writing skills. To do this I will delve into my imagination to
see if any inspiration flows.
I
want to read more. Discover new authors
and styles of writing. Perhaps set a
target – one novel per month to start with.
There is a vast amount of music to explore. Photography is another interest. I have plenty of slides and negatives to scan
into my computer; and need to reorganise my more recent digital pictures.
Am I
day-dreaming or is this the beginning of my retreat into the imagination? Not really is the answer, as in the coming
weeks I have to attend to day-to-day issues chief of which is the little matter
of organising my finances.
Gym and yoga
school memberships are due for renewal.
There
is also the all-important social life, as we have to go to a friend’s 50th
birthday party at the end of the month. To
think that I used to consider 50 as old.
Then the day after her party, our oldest grandchild celebrates his 8th
birthday.
Fortunately,
about an hour early, those of us who remain in the office on this first Friday
afternoon of a new year are allowed to go home. I shake my colleague Jim’s hand and leave,
unobtrusively – just as I would have wanted, on my own terms. No fuss.
It’s
the opposite application of T S Elliot’s sentiment “not with a bang but a
whimper.”
The final day of work may have
been quiet, but far from being the end of the world it marks the start of
something new and unbearably exciting. I can't wait another minute.
In
modern parlance, it’s time to live a little.
©Michael
McSorley 2015
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