OK. One of us is now officially retired. Promoted to a life of luxury and being waited on hand and foot, with all necessities provided at the drop of a hat (the one with Captain on the front, naturally). Guess which of us this is. Answer: the one whose surgery in March meant she spent the last three months being waited on hand and foot, with all necessities provided at the mere flicker of an eyelash. Meanwhile, her willing slave (mine’s the First Mate version) continues to bring home the bacon, cook the tea, mow the lawn, exercise by means of a walk round Sainsbury’s, mark assignments, prepare for exam boards and try to hand over the running of this programme in the best possible order, hopefully in time to get afloat by the last week of July.
Won’t be long. And we don’t intend retirement to be very retiring.
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