rootedatthesticks

Squashes in containers

Working had been getting in the way of my gardening. I really wanted to be free of work so I could do my own gardening and grow my own vegetables. No more dependence on those dictatorial supermarkets who charge what they want and decide what we should eat. What's not to like about that? Not only would I be free of supermarkets I would also save myself more than £50 a week in shopping bills.

Three Brexit heads

Since my last post on Rooted to the Spot I have written several articles but they were all turned down by my editor. He said they weren't sufficiently in the style of Brexit and had little to do with my retirement. I insisted that they couldn't be altered, that retirement was retirement and if he didn't like what I'd produced the deal was off. He'd have to make do with nothing.

Broken jubilee plate

My retirement in the style of Brexit is falling apart, which I suppose means it isn't, because Brexit is falling apart, so I think that proves I'm still succeeding in following it. Oh, I don't know! This is getting so confusing. When it's fallen apart will I have been successful or not? Who knew this was going to be so difficult? It should have all been so easy.

Closed gate

Retirement in the style of Brexit isn't working out quite as I'd hoped. At first I proceeded as though it would be easy. Back to the Good Life: rural calm, self sufficiency and tranquility for me. Sunlit uplands for the rest of my life. Ahh, it sounded so good.

To 'get behind Brexit' I forced myself to go along with the confidence of the Brexiters' arguments when they assured me that it was easy to secure an obligation free, low cost life full of benefits.

Butterfly

The long hot summer is over but Brexit madness seems unabated. As the shear scale of what they have unleashed, and the complexities of what they assured us was simple, become clear, arch Brexiters are becoming more and more fanciful in their proposals. Despite their bravado their desparation is showing, they are grabbing at straws and throwing all caution to the wind in their blatant disregard of inconvenient facts. If it wasn't a cult before, it is now.

Whitewashing the greenhouse glass

I've quietly let my proposal to grow bananas slip and hope no one notices. I've even stood in front of a mirror and practised keeping my face straight and deadly serious while denying I ever said it. I've taken my inspiration from leading Brexiters. After all if Nigel Farage can deny suggesting UK could be like Norway with all the TV footage proving the opposite I can deny suggesting I could grow bananas.

I've only just realised a gapping hole in my "retirement in the style of Brexit" plan: I forgot to draw any red lines. The omission of the red lines surely undermines everything. How could I have been so remiss? I was so taken with striking out on my own, regaining my sovereignty, taking back control of my time, freeing myself from corporate rules and seizing the opportunity to negotiate my own deals that I completely overlooked them. And I'd told my husband everything else would carry on as before. No loss of anything. Only benefits. Duh!

It's becoming harder to maintain my belief in a glorious retirement with total control over my own time and unlimited opportunity to do what I chose. Cracks are starting to show. OK I haven't retired yet, there are another four days to go, but already others are making plans to use my services. 

I'm beginning to think that retirement in the style of Brexit is a mistake. Like Brexit itself. A big mistake.

All my retirement projects and plans to enjoy the area within a ten mile radius of this Spot are still completely valid. It is a fantastic area: beautiful countryside, rich culture, unrivalled industrial heritage, landscapes my ancestors enjoyed. What more could one want from the place where one's roots go deep? But all that would still be true without Brexit. 

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