The Yorkshire husband is retiring in more ways than one – Susan Morrison
We were looking in the window of the Bethany Shop. Possibly the range of bizarre aged odds and sods on display reminded him that there was something he meant to mention.
He said, “I'm retiring.”
I said “Well, yes, you’ve always been on the quiet side. Generally I do the talking for the team. Remember when…”
He interrupted to say, “No, what I mean is, I’m going to retire.”
Bit of a bombshell, right there. I rather thought there might be some sort of negotiation before the decision was made, but no, there you go, just dropped the R-word on me on Duke Street.
Well, I don’t mind telling you, that it threw me a little. In my head, he’s still about 40-something with a job to go to.
As a key worker, he was full-tilt after Covid hit whilst I swanned about the house doing light domestic duties. For someone like me, whose working life involved a lot of hurtling from city to city, certain aspects of the pandemic were actually quite nice. Things slowed down and I was home alone.
Who does not enjoy a pile of ironing, a coffee and Come Dine With Me on the telly? Just me? Can’t do that whilst he’s about.
He was off work recently with a bit of an injury. It was the longest time we’ve actually spent in each other's company for a very long time. There were moments of tension.
The shock may have shown on my face, or it could have been the shriek, either way, he assured me that he was actively considering a wee part-time “something”.
In fact, he said, he quite fancies becoming a lollipop man. Apparently he’ll be good at it because he has a very good knowledge of the Road Traffic Act. I remain unconvinced that a good grounding in the law is essential for wading into Edinburgh traffic.
I mean, it's not as if Liz Truss knows how an F35 fighter works, but it didn’t stop her sitting in one.
So. That’s him. Retiring. Hold on, if he’s not 40-something, how old am I?