Thursday, April 29, 2010

Living with a pensioner.

Oh, how the years roll on! It is so very easy to forget that we are all getting older. I still feel like a man in his twenties, I have a young outlook on life and I have no aches or pains. I am 51 years old but I do not feel like a middle-aged man. My wife Gail received a letter the other day from our government's pension service. The woman's retirement age in the UK is being increased from 60 to 65 and this increase is being staggered over a number of years. Because of this many women, including Gail will retire between 60 and 65 but not on their birthday. Gail will retire on the 6th September 2013, which is not so very far away. We have already talked about her 60th birthday and we have got used to thinking of her becoming sixty - just another milestone, one that is so easy to accept.

But since the arrival of this letter, I have been teasing her big time. "Hey Gail, what is going on? Will your "toy boy" husband soon be living with a pensioner? A pensioner, I ask you!"

It is difficult getting my head around the idea of sharing a home with a pensioner. Where have the years gone? It seems only a few years ago that John, who reads the blog, and I were rambling over Dartmoor with Susan Davidge. Those were the days, rambling over moorlands and mountains. Now I share a home with a woman who in three years time will become a pensioner. Gail has a walking disability and can't go rambling anywhere. I will be living with a pensioner but I will not be hanging up my walking trainers, I have a dog to walk. It is hard for Gail to watch as I walk briskly away with our little dog. But then, she did marry a man 7 years younger than her. She always marvels at my legs being so slim and knees that bend without a glitch and do not lock.

Still, I love Gail and I will not be going off with some younger woman who can ramble over moorland and mountains. Marriage is for life and that includes women who cannot walk and are of pensionable age. Gail cannot walk very far at all but boy, can she talk!
I remember that day well Steve, it poured with rain we found a dead horse and went to a rather fine pub in the evening.

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Subscribe to Posts [Atom]