At 68, I sometimes feel like an old boat sitting in dry dock. The paint's chipped in a few places, the rudder creaks a bit, and the engine coughs before it starts- an times where one thinks when will this end and the charts of life suggest that by now I should have dropped anchor, content with gardening, bridge, or whatever harmless pursuits people adopt when they're told to "take it easy." But I can still feel the tide pulling at me. There's a whisper that says, "Not yet, old boy-there's still wind in those sails.
"So, I'm giving myself a thorough refit. The hull (that's me) needs patching up here and there-doctor's orders, a bit more stretching, a bit less pudding. The rigging (that's the attitude) is being tested for strength. And as for navigation, well, I've decided to plot a course around the world. Not a metaphor, mind you-an actual voyage.
There's something delightful about ignoring the polite expectations of others. Society, in its tidy way, hands out timetables: study, work, retire, fade gracefully. But what if one misses the connection? What if at this station in life, you still feel like jumping the fence and catching a different train entirely?
The truth is, many of us-those who have spent decades building, managing, supervising-arrive at the so-called "end of work" only to discover an untapped reservoir of curiosity and daring. Perhaps that's what this journey represents for me: a refusal to settle. A salute to every well-worn hull that still dreams of open water. SOD convention, I say. Let the younger ones worry about what's sensible. I'll be trimming the sails.
So to those standing on the edge of retirement, staring at the horizon and wondering, "Is this it?" - I say, nonsense. We're not done yet. Not by a long shot.
Forget the endless reels of twenty-somethings hopping from Bali to Barcelona, all smiles and drone footage. Let them have their moment. We had (and still have) ours - only ours involves real charts, real weather, and a lifetime's worth of stories that don't need filters or hashtags.
This message is for the Old Seadogs, the stubborn explorers, the closet philosophers who still believe the map doesn't end where the pension form begins. We've earned the right to be a bit grumpy, a bit outspoken, and utterly unapologetic about wanting more from the world.
So let's connect - not to reminisce or moan, but to plan, to dream, to raise a mug (or glass) to the idea that life after work is not the epilogue. It's the next chapter. The seas are still wide, the wind's still steady, and we've still got a few fine voyages left in us.
Fair winds, fellow travellers. Sod convention - let's set sail.
