November 16th 2015

Listened to an oft-repeated debate on Pat Kenny this morning, the subject matter being retirement. One of Winston Churchill’s most famous and funny quips concerned his political opponent Clement Attlee. Apparently interrupting a Churchill rant on Attlee’s retirement, a friend said, ‘But surely, Mr. Churchill, you admit that Mr. Attlee is a humble man?’ To which Churchill replied, ‘He is a humble man, but then he has much to be humble about!’ 

Pat Kenny is not a humble man as the Prodigal found out during a lengthy interview with him on radio earlier this year. But then again he has little to be humble about. He is the consummate interviewer/broadcaster and the amount and range of the homework he employs on each topic he debates is astounding. What has this got to do with retirement? You see Mr. Churchill and Pat Kenny have one thing in common. Neither has any obligation to retire. Churchill retired from politics in 1964 and considering he was elected to Oldham in 1900 this represents a very long span in the political forefront, having served as Prime Minister on two occasions.

He had reached the ripe old age of 90 when he retired.

Pat Kenny has been broadcasting at national level for 45 years and considering his enormous talent and the dearth of credible replacement potential it is possible that at the age of 67 he could conceivably continue for another 20 years. Curiously, Churchill excelled at writing and literature, having won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1953 and Pat Kenny is the foremost authority on politics in Ireland. Yet consider this; the statutory retirement age for public servants in Great Britain is 60 while their Irish counterparts must retire at 65.

A civil servant is generally one who is paid by the taxpayer through the exchequer during his working life and is similarly remunerated in retirement. Surely this makes a politician a civil servant? Likewise RTE, the national broadcaster is publicly funded by license, and surely this classifies its employees as public servants! Yet the same strictures in employment contracts do not apply to these categories of persons as to the rest of us plebs. Why not?

For me retirement was an escape from a pointless career. The job I occupied for thirty years was meaningless and while I performed my appointed duties as competently as any of my peers it was merely a drudge without challenge. This changed somewhat when I went to work for British Telecom but that is another white horse of a different colour.

 Those who find themselves ‘retired’ are liable to be quickly and unceremoniously dumped out of the activities and memories of their previous ‘friends’. The gap comes quickly, usually preceded by a stilly pause. The communication in spoken or written format becomes no more. The retiree is consigned to hermit status and in my case this was very welcome. Work colleagues of dubious merit have to be tolerated to some extent in the employment situation but not so in the cosy cocoon of retirement. While the hermit can luxuriously languor in the shutdown cell of his choice his former colleagues without are being tossed about in the very vortex of what they believe to be real life. The hermit will swallow and regurgitate his own thoughts and feelings during his self-imposed hibernation of whatever duration he wishes.

A comfortable abode, a sufficiency of vittles and vitals, a workable budget and little choices now and then; that’s the business of life and living. These little insulations will suffice whatever the weather brings. These bare necessities coupled with the survival instinct will allow the nest to be comforting and comfortable both winter and summer. The hermit decides on the timing and duration of the seasons. If he decides that he has enough of his own winter then he invites her sister spring into his cocoon or rambles abroad to greet her. He can enjoy the sun and warm south wind, witness the gradual greening of nature in her seasonal attire in the budding of hedges, carol with the new orchestra of birds and dip his toes into the fresh but not freezing movements of liberated streams. He can mastermind and control his own reemergence and resurrection. It might be important to appreciate his cocoon for its sanction and shelter but the worth of his cell can be more appreciated by the regular emergence into the outer limit.

Mere mortals believe that the working environment allows them choices and freedom. Another urban myth! It achieves the total opposite. Consider how much of life is wasted, being predetermined by societal and family obligation. It is impossible to convey the sheer joy and comfort that is my alarm clock every morning. The limitless luxuriating in the knowledge that I can determine and revise practically every single activity of the welcome day. This is the ultimate freedom.

Should I go for a walk, go for a pint, go for a second opinion, go back to bed or phone a friend for advice? The choice is endless and is limited only by outlandish expectations or temporary insanity which has its merits too. Sometimes I just walk out the front door for the pure simple joy of walking back in again. There’s total freedom for you.