I retired at the age of 69, before Christmas 2007. We went on our planned December and January holidays to Spain. Our batteries needed re-charging, for when we got home there was a big job to do. A complete “bedroom make-over“. We made the big decision to buy single beds, tailored to our individual requirements, so that we both got a “proper nights sleep”.

By April work was completed, I had a couple of “wilderness months”, feeling unsure what to do. When the better weather came, I started feeling brighter. We had always talked about growing our own food, now was the time to start!
Looking after the garden is my job, I grew Bonsai Trees, but never tried growing vegetables.

While I did the reading research, choosing what we would grow. My husband constructed a herb bed in the front garden, and a raised vegetable bed in the rear garden. It was great fun going round the Garden Centres, choosing plants and decorative conta

iners. We were excited by the thought of getting more fresh food into our diet. We enjoyed picking fresh salads and herbs to eat them minutes later. The results were well worth the effort. I spent a lot of time, recording what we had planted in a Garden Journal, taking photographs of our plants to record their progress. I had joined the local Library, almost every gardening book in the Library I borrowed, read, and made notes about things I found interesting.

As a frequent visitor to the Library, I bombarded them to start a Reading Group. It was eventually advertised in the local paper, for other interested people. At the first Meeting, a lot of strangers came together, our Chairlady was the Main Libraries, Readers Support Officer. She explained how a Reading Group is run; everybody introduced themselves, and spoke about their favourite type of books, and authors. A discussion about the tea and coffee rota followed, (most important). A list was compiled of possible future book choices. We all took home, “Spies” by Michael Frayn as our first months’ Choice. We were pleased with the way the Meeting had gone, feeling something positive had happened.

In September 08 I was fortunate to be able to join a Creative Writing Course. Led by a young woman Tutor, who was friendly and helpful, the members were retired professionals. Who, on a weekly basis, read out the work they had written during the previous week. The level and quality of their poems and stories was outstanding, I felt dumbstruck, but in awe and inspired at the same time.

Our teacher told us that for this term we would concentrate on Poetry, starting with the style of Poetry called “Villanelle”. Mentioning the Dylan Thomas Poem “Do not go gentle into that good night” was an example of one. After giving us some notes, she said our homework was to compose our own Villanelle. Later we would study other styles of writing poetry.

I went home feeling “freaked out”. After lunch, I sat and stared at my blank piece of paper, feeling totally inadequate. I hadn’t written anything creative since schooldays. I stared, and stared, and then, with amazement, saw my hand was writing something. On the page a poem was growing, my first poem. I couldn’t believe it! I had written a poem! I read it to my husband; he said “that sounds good”.

When the day of the Writers Group came round, I felt nervous and apprehensive as I drove there. The terror was real, at the thought of reading my work out to the Group. When my turn came, I hesitantly read my poem, they listened in silence, when I finished, they applauded, during the following feed back session, people said it was good, my teacher was nodding and smiling. I had done it!
I had become a writer, a poet!

This became a pattern of my life, over the months, when the weather was good; I was outside, working in the garden. If the weather was not suitable, I was indoors reading, or writing something. The rate of my reading was increasing; there were so many better quality books on my list, so many authors to be explored. I learnt how to evaluate books, to discuss, and recommend them to others. At the Reading Group to sit listening to other people’s comments and views, I didn’t have to like them or agree, just think about what they said. I learned how to give “feed back” to what had been said. I learned to do a “google” search on the authors, to find out the stories behind the story, to read reviews, to see if my understanding was the same as theirs. Or, to find out about points I had missed, or not understood.

July 09, the Writers Group published a slim volume of work produced by the class. Sixteen people contributed their stories and poems — and I was one of them! When the books came, seeing our work in print, taking them home to show family and friends was so exciting. All too soon the Summer Holidays were here, my Course came to and end. I would miss the Group over the break.

During the summer the garden became my main focus of attention. It was so prolific. Our best crops were tomato plants, green French beans and potato. Another cause of excitement was the bees, who came to live in a hole at the bottom of the wall. They hummed their way round my flowers; the preferred flower was Lavender.

Our Writers Group re-commenced in September 09, our Teacher announcing that this Terms’ project would be for us to write something, either poetry or prose, read it into a microphone to be recorded, to be put on to a C.D., Which sounds a whole lot easier, than it is to do. We are all thinking of a subject we wanted to write about, and practising our “Reading Aloud and Performance Poetry” skills.

Meanwhile, the Reading Group at the Library has completed its first year. We have read and discussed at length, twelve very different types of books. The strangers who joined are now good friends. There has been a lot of tea drunk, and tales told. Other Library users appeared amazed at the hilarity coming from our Group, sharing our Reading experiences. We decided the years’ favourite choice was “Boy in Striped Pyjamas”, by John Boyne, as it made the biggest impact on our attitude and our thinking.

It is now November 09, our central heating is on, the street and house lights go on sooner, we draw the curtains earlier too. I can look forward to long evenings and a winter full of words, life experience stories to write, attempts at horror and crime writing, poems about this and that. More books to be read and discussed. My life is full of words, heard, spoken, written and read. I am happy, relaxed and content with my retirement years. Long may it continue …?