Mind the Gap!

As many people who have had the unfortunate experience of seeing a loved one die of a terminal illness will agree, even though a death is expected, it's still a shock when it comes.  If readers find it insensitive of me to refer to this truism in the circumstances I'm about to describe, then I apologise; it happens to describe for me what I felt last Friday evening when I returned home from the garage.

My van had been difficult to start all afternoon, and I called at the garage on my way home from my last delivery in Norwich, to get an opinion on what might be wrong, and how easy it might be to fix.  After listening both to my observation of warning lights and of the van's behaviour, and to the engine itself, running smoothly but noticeably louder than usual, the engineer pronounced, "I think your timing chain is going."  We discussed the next move briefly, and agreed that the van would rest over the weekend and then make one last trip to enable me to collect the car I'd already arranged to be its successor.

I outlined here a couple of weeks ago how my original phased retirement plan had gradually been curtailed, firstly only in vague and undefined terms, then to mid January, and finally to the weekend before Christmas. But that wasn't to be the final curtailment.  Last weekend was one of making some plans and changing others.  A phone call to the dealer was inconclusive because the salesman was on holiday, so I couldn't be sure how far advanced the pre-delivery routines were, given that as far as they were concerned they had two more weeks to get her ready.  An e-mail was left, supplemented by a text message, and bright and early on Monday morning came the confirming call.  Only one thing more was left to do, and I could collect the car that afternoon.

I'd had to wait until Monday to call the insurance broker to see if a parallel advancement could be arranged there.  Luckily it would take a matter of minutes to cancel one policy and complete another, so I called the dealer back to say, "It's all systems 'go!'"  Finally what had seemed all weekend to be very indefinite and unsatisfactory was now happening.  My prayers were answered, and the van started first time, both at home as I set out, and more importantly, perhaps, when the salesman started it to drive it to the rear of the showroom.  Documentation was completed, and within an hour of my arrival, I was on my way home.

On Friday evening, in my state of shock, I realised that while - as I opened this post by stating - there is a fine line between life and death, and yet the two are so different, so there are many other fine line distinctions in my present situation.  The gap between work and retirement turned out to be only a weekend; as this week has progressed, I've realised the gap that exists between the semi-retirement I've been living this last year and the real thing. I'm coming to understand that there is no urgency to get done this week all the things on my To-Do list ... there will be another week next week ... and the week after, and so on.

There is a fine gap between doubt and certainty ... as I've already described in relation to the car, but I found another example during the week, when the letting agent came for her quarterly inspection of my flat.  For some months now there has been a rumbling concern about the redecoration of my living space.  It was always going to be difficult while I'm living in it, and even more so now that I'm no longer working ... even some weeks.  Apparently, the designated tradesman was very reluctant even to consider such a piecemeal assignment as had been put to him, so the landlord has decided that, since I have no concerns at all about having the job done, it being perfectly satisfactory as it is for my unassuming needs, the matter will be left in abeyance until such time as I request something to be done.  Doubt has given way to certainty.

This afternoon I discovered a more practical gap as I did my weekly supermarket shopping.  With the van it was simplicity itself.  I pushed my trolley up to the rear of the van, opened the door and tossed the bags inside. Given the prevailing rain, I wasn't prepared to go through the automated slowness of opening the boot, getting the contents wet, then unloading the bags and following up with the equally slow automated closing.  These operations might be gentle and dignified in sunshine; in rain they simply afford the opportunity for an unwelcome soaking.  I opted for the swift opening of the passenger door and putting the bags quickly into the footwell ... an impossibility under the former regime because of all the 'clutter' kept there for ready use.

And finally - nothing to do with retirement - I must share with my gentle reader a more intimate gap that I discovered yesterday afternoon.  I decided that the time had come for a pre-festive tidying of my appearance, and visited the hairdresser.  I explained that I wanted minimal adjustment to the length of my hair, merely a thinning out where it was growing too thickly to be easily managed (in itself a blessing at my age!), along with a neatening of the edges.  There was a distinct gap between my explanation and his co-operation; or between his hearing and his understanding of my requirements.  I emerged in growing levels of anger, feeling like a freshly-cropped schoolboy!

Most of these gaps are, or will be, resolved by the disappearance of one party.  What will define the future for me, I think, is the extent to which I am able to resolve others - many of which have yet to emerge - by a gradual rapprochement of one side to the other.