Well we are still here and I have been assured by the IT people that all is now well and postings can continue as normal, that is if any of them were ever normal. If they suddenly disappear again, not that I don’t have faith in the IT people, remember to switch to www.blackbookofretirement.com for information on what is happening.


So to catch up on what has been happening.


There we were sitting with the family in Barcelona after Christmas when the topic of working in the UK crops up. Dave needs to be in the UK and Alex and the kids seem keen to move in with us. So after fourteen years abroad they put their furniture into store in Barcelona and come back to the UK to live with us until they resolve if this is a long stay or just a medium stay. How long a medium stay is I am not sure but the kids have started the local school and Alex has a job,


I immediately start to think of what retirement means. Sitting in the garden room watching the village folk go off to work. Wandering down to the garden centre mid week and sharing a scone with Christine. Focus with the old folk card on a Tuesday and B&Q on a Wednesday. Pottering down the pub for the pensioners specials at tea time, well not Christine of course she isn’t a pensioner yet or so she says.


All this seems to be a thing of the past now, a cottage that was over adequate for Christine and I to wander about in is now full of the family. Having said that, in the two years I have been retired Christine and I spent five months living with the family in the Bahamas and then over six months of this last year with them in Barcelona. So we are used to all being together. Of course while they lived abroad we could always go home for some peace and quiet but now we have two teenage children permanently around the cottage. Well actually Joe is a teenager and Amber just thinks and acts as if she is. Twelve in a few weeks going on fourteen would sum her up pretty good.


But joking aside it is great to be all together for however long it lasts, I am sure the day will come when Dave announces where he needs to be next and off they will go and Christine and I will be back searching the internet for cheap flights to who knows where.


So now it’s six people for each meal which is causing some issues with quantities when Christine is used to cooking for just the two of us. But in general we are getting there. Just a tip from some one who knows, get down to the local store and stock up on wallpaper paste; there will be a world shortage shortly. Five out of the six of us have wallpaper paste for breakfast and unfortunately I am not the one who doesn’t.


Amber flatly refuses to eat anything that looks that disgusting while I, of course have to eat it so I can have a long and happy retirement with Christine or so she says. To make things worse Joe has a milk allergy and has to have his made with lactose free milk, Christine only has skimmed milk and the rest of us have semi skimmed. So now when I wander into the kitchen in a morning the new Range Cooker is fully utilised with numerous pans all bubbling away containing wall paper paste.


But that’s not really the point of this tale. While I’m trying to empty my bowl of wall paper paste anywhere than in my mouth Amber is merrily chatting away eating her slices of bread dipped in egg then fried to a golden crunch. ‘Eggy bread’ it appears to be called and looks a lot better than my wall paper paste. If a little bacon starts to appear on the side of her eggy bread with maybe a sausage there will be serious problem at breakfast time.


But then again that isn’t even the point of the story. What really worries me is the stick-a-bility of the wallpaper paste. As the breakfast comes to an end Alex goes off to work, Dave goes on his computer, Christine gets the kids ready for school and I am, not surprisingly left to sort out the pots. Most of the debris goes in the dish washer but then I am left with a number of pans with remnants of wall paper paste clinging to them.


I soak them in hot water, attack them with wire wool in the form of Brillo pads, scrape them with wooden spoons all to no effect. The wall paper paste is still there. If it’s this hard to get the stuff off the pans what on earth is doing to your arteries, every one of mine must be almost clogged to the full.


A little bacon with a fried egg and maybe a sausage never seemed to have this problem. Must have a word with Christine.