GRWM For Another Day Of Early Retirement

 A pale, middle-aged woman with round glasses and unruly dark hair appears on screen. Behind her, in the background, can be seen floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, overflowing with novels, and accessorised with various souvenirs, mementos, and framed photos. A large, black, Longchamp Le Pliage bag is neatly parked against the small desk to one side, which also features a long line of paperback books, kept upright by bookends. 

The woman is clearly ill-at-ease in speaking to camera.  She clears her throat.

Um- hi everyone, or whoever is listening, or no-one, probably.  This is the first time I’ve done this.  TikTok so isn’t my thing.  But the clock is ticking and it’s time I tried something new.  So- I suppose- get ready with me for another day of early retirement.

I suppose I should overlay some music on this.  Maybe that song everyone’s using at the moment, you know the one- from the Wonder movie.  The White Stripes.  Fall is here.  That one.  Except that I should have done this over a year ago and vlogged about my ‘last first day’- because that’s a thing now.  Except that I didn’t know it was my last first day. Sometimes all this health stuff just ambushes you, and that’s what happened to me.  When I met my new Year 13s and Year 11s last year, I thought I’d be taking them through to the end of their two-year courses.  I thought I’d see 9G through to the end of Year 10.  I thought I’d see 12Lit start off on their A Levels and 10F on their GCSEs. At least that.

She takes a breath and straightens her glasses.

I’m wearing my good glasses today, by the way. The glasses I wear when I think people are going to see me. The ones I kind of tell myself I can substitute for having much of a personality. 

Anyway.  Yeah.  Get ready with me.  I should talk about skincare and make-up and heat-free curls right now, shouldn’t I?  I should show you something by Elemis or Sculpted By Aimee and tap a little rhythm on the side of it with freshly manicured nails and say ‘how nice?’ Ask you to ‘take a moment for this Nars concealer, just look at what it’s done for my dark circles?’ I should show myself with one massive Velcro roller at the top/front region of my head, or one of those foam curling rods twined through my hair.  I’ll work on that.  Instead, I look windswept even though I’ve only just been out for my early morning wander around the garden.  JVN Hair Air Dry, idk, maybe I just like the… aesthetic?

She looks over her shoulder at her bag, shakes her head slightly, and sighs.

These Longchamp bags have become such a thing, right?  I feel like people would say I’m so basic because mine is black, and not only that, it’s the one with the black leather trim (instead of brown leather) and I don’t have a bag-organiser insert inside, but instead I made all my own little mini-compartments using small make-up bags. If I invited you to ‘pack my bag with me for a day of retirement’, there wouldn’t be very much of interest to see. But anyway, the bag- I must have had that bag for at least ten or twelve years, so I guess you could say I was on trend before the trend was a trend. I’m not gendering my bag, though.  I’m not saying ‘here she is…’ in a breathily thrilled way. It’s a good bag.  It holds loads of stuff.  It weighs hardly anything.  I have arthritis.  My body hurts 24/7/365.25. 

I used to like getting dressed up for work. I was never going to be on the pupils’ ‘best dressed teachers’ lists because what I wore wasn’t assertively stylish or in any way colourful. It was predominantly sensible and neat, and in a palette based on black, charcoal and navy. Accents of cream and silver and cobalt. I don’t dress like that anymore.  I don’t do the ‘I live on the North Coast so therefore I must wear a DryRobe every time I leave the house’ thing either. ‘Fit check for today: patterned blue t-shirt, black leggings, black socks with cute bee patterns, trail-walk trainers. I’m not doing that stupid leg kick to show off my shoes. Recently there’s been a lot of softshell jacket and waterproof hooded coat accessorising.  I think the days of the puffa coat and black beanie are coming soon. Warm coats and crisp autumn mornings: immediately yes.

She looks up and to the right as if searching for something interesting to say. She sighs deeply and pauses.

Days in retirement are different. You notice the rhythm of where you live- living in a popular seaside town particularly.  I notice how beautifully quiet it is on weekdays, when I go for my daily walks, and start to resent the weekend influx of the people in the prestige-make cars who keep their DryRobes ready in case they have to leave the car to get a takeaway matcha. You find your own routine, when the bells aren’t ringing any longer. A routine builds itself around keeping active, keeping your mind active, keeping the house tidy and the laundry up to date, keeping in touch with your friends and family, keeping an eye on emails and feeling sad that the work account, which used to drive you crazy, has now stopped functioning. People keep asking me about my plans.  What are these plans I’m meant to have?  It makes me panic.  It feels like last September all over again, when the Inspectors were calling and I was writing a whole file-full of lesson plans. 

What are the success criteria of retirement, anyway?

I didn’t really get ready for early retirement, even though I knew it was coming. The friends, family and colleagues who were getting ready with me were much more ready than I was. I’m still getting ready, even though I’m now settling into happy, calm routines and greatly reduced stress.  The removal of the guilt of ‘being off sick’ is the greatest gift anyone could have given me.  I know you’re not meant to get all deep on these things, but I want to be authentic. There’s more to a GRWM than sunscreen and eyeliner and mascara. I might not contour and blend at the mirror, but I do base my day on a foundation of reflection. Reflecting on a career which brought me tremendous purpose, joy and pride. Reflecting on what might come next.  Reading, listening, staying endlessly curious. Taking time to observe the small details, like the gorgeous butterflies which visit the hebes in the garden, or the changing cloudscapes over the sea. I’m not journalling, but I do feel an awful lot of gratitude.

So: I’m ready for another day of early retirement.  Or even another week.  Maybe I’ll do something wild and crazy this week- you know, change my hair or paint my nails bright red, or go a day without reading anything, at all.  I won’t, though.  Why not quote a very frequently used icon, Carrie Bradshaw, ‘… so, it was official, a new season had begun.’  Because, for me, it has.

The aims and objectives of retirement?  Get ready with me.  I’m making this up as I go along.

Camera off.