Annual report 2022

 

It’s time for the annual report, and I don’t know where to start or how to start. Last year, as the world was slowly emerging from the horrors of covid, we thought that things would get better because they couldn’t possibly get worse. It turned out, they could. I won’t dwell on it too long because there are really no words to describe the pain and the sorrow. My heart is with Ukraine, as well as with my friends in Russia who have lost their jobs and are branded as foreign agents with a real risk of getting arrested any day. My best friend says I will never understand because I am too far away. I am trying. What is inconceivable for me is that so many people who I believed shared my values have chosen the other side. I guess this is how Americans feel about Trump or the British about Brexit. Families are divided, and you lose friends.

I have done my humble share in supporting Ukrainian refugees in Sweden, but of course I could have done more.

The big question when the war broke out was whether to cancel every plan for indefinite future: everything felt pointless, almost sacrilegious. Yet most of us eventually decided that refraining from fun wasn’t the best coping strategy. After all, to be cynical, cancelling a party will not stop the war, and maybe we all needed some fun in the middle of general misery. So my oldest son’s girlfriend celebrated her 50^th, and to her – and everybody’s - surprise he proposed to her in front of all the guests. (They married in a quiet ceremony a few months later). My daughter celebrated her 40^th with a fancy-dress party. And I celebrated my three-score and ten with a luxury weekend at a countryside manor for family and closest friends. During this memorable event I was introduced to disc golf, which hasn’t become my new favourite pastime, but was a joy to try as an extra entertainment.

Similarly, I saw no reason to cancel travel. It so happened that I made two trips to Denmark, the first to a miniature fair, the second to a miniature summer school. The fair was disappointing, and I am not going there again, but I went with my daughter so we had a nice mother-daughter bonding trip. The summer school was amazing, and I am definitely going again. Excellent instructors, friendly atmosphere and good food. I was very pleased with the two miniatures I made: a 17th-century map book and a Louis XVII desk. I realised how much there is for me to learn.

Obviously, I continued making miniatures and participated in several shows, although I could not attend the main autumn show because I got ill – not covid. 

My probably best experience in miniature-making was a commission to make a set of Ukrainian food for a lovely bilingual picturebook. It was quite a challenge. 

Another related achievement was an article published in a dollhouse magazine. It wasn’t the first time, but I felt more proud of it than of my academic publications.

Going back to travel, I fulfilled my grand dream of returning to Camino de Santiago de Compostela, completing the final stretch of 120 km and receiving a pilgrim certificate. Read a full account here. I got to know my fellow pilgrims well, and we are already planning another pilgrimage in the coming year.

 

I also made a short trip to Gdansk which is a truly amazing city.

I continued leading nature walks during spring, but had to temporarily quit in the autumn because of a foot injury. 

I also continued with my urban walks, based on children’s books, and guess what? I was awarded a very prestigious prize for them! I had thought I was beyond all awards, and it was particularly gratifying to receive acknowledgement for something I was doing right now. The activity is growing, and more and more funding bodies are deciding it’s worth supporting so I am suddenly more involved than I had imagined, for better and for worse. It’s something I strongly believe in.

I also received my second diploma in ikebana, now working on the third and participating in some events apart from my formal lessons.

As I was unable to walk any long distance in summer, I compensated by going wild swimming every morning. 

I also did some climbing, not as much as I would have liked to, but my instructor, who happens to be my grandson, is impressed.

I continued cook-alongs with my Cambridge friend, and in summer we went on a virtual trip with Orient Express, stopping in Paris, Venice, Sofia and Istanbul. We read books, watched movies, listened to music and of course cooked food. Believe me, it’s a great way to stay in touch when you cannot visit in real life. We planned to go to Paris for real, but again I got very ill so sadly it didn’t happen. Maybe next year.

There wasn’t much to do in terms of home improvement, but my wonderful grandsons helped me remove the horrible carpet on the balcony and replace it with a lovely wooden deck. The balcony was once again a source of much joy.

I made substantial progress with Welsh, and I am now halfway through the course. In summer, however, I took a break and learned some Spanish in preparation for my trip to Spain. I actually could say quite a few phrases when I was there.

Like last year, I set a goal of reading thirty books, but I didn’t have any theme so it was a mix of contemporary Swedish and contemporary British, of the latter Ian McEwan’s new novel, Lessons, was probably the strongest impression, alongside French Murial Barbery’s The Elegance of the Hedgehog.

I have been an ardent moviegoer, thanks to my grandson who works in a cinema, but I have also watched numerous films and tv series at home, thanks to all great streaming platforms. The same grandson made sure I didn’t miss any important theatre, opera and ballet performances. Two highlights: Strindberg’s Miss Julie and Brecht’s Life of Galileo. Not to mention all concerts, both my subscription concerts and several on top of those. Occasionally I attended 2-3 events in a week. Quite recently I made a big musical discovery: Ethel Smyth. A good example of the benefits of subscription: I would probably never chosen this concert on my own.

I could go on, but I think I have made my point. It has been a very dark year, and no light any time near. And yet life goes on, and it’s a wonderful life that I wish everyone could enjoy in their retirement, although I am well aware of how privileged I am. Not least thanks to these lovely friends: 

Let's not lose hope! Happy 2023!

Key to a harmonious retirement

 

Three years ago on this day I repatriated, and in a couple of months, I will have been retired for three years which feels an ample time to summarise and share some insights. I believe I can claim with confidence that I have made the most of these three years even given all the external horrors we have been through. So here are some reflections – for those who want to hear it.

1). Embrace it. Getting old is not a given, it’s a privilege not everyone can enjoy. Be grateful for every day you are alive and, hopefully, in good health. Think of friends who sadly did not live long enough to experience the pleasure of retirement.

2) If viable economically, retire as early as you can. There is so much to do after retirement that you need as much time as you can get while you are able to fulfil your dreams.

3) Make retirement definite. Cut off all ties to your professional career. I know it may be hard, but think: you have probably worked in more or less the same area for at least forty years. Can you make any further contribution to your field? If you are an academic, do you really want to produce another book, another article, another conference paper? At this point in your career you probably have scores of former students who can carry on and do it as efficiently as you, if not much better. After all, at least theoretically, every next generation of scholars should be better than the previous one. If you are a teacher you have younger colleagues who will hopefully continue to foster new generations of young people. If you are a writer, artist, performer – make room for new talents. If you are in business, surely some younger companion can make it thrive. If you are in public service… and so on. Be honest with yourself: Will the world go on without you? Let me tell you for sure: it will. And as they say: leave when you are on top.

4) What, then, can you ask, should you do with all your spare time? Think of all things you wanted to try and never had time. Maybe you wanted to be a gardener, but your family insisted that you go to university. Maybe you wanted to be an archaeologist, but you had to support your family and got into business instead. Maybe you have always secretly wanted to build model railways. Maybe you wanted to play an instrument or learn a language. Pursue your dreams. Preferably, start, or at least start looking around, before retirement so that on Day 1 you are already enrolled in a class or have a volunteer job waiting. And remember: this time, you don’t have to compete, you can quit if you get bored and want to try something else, and you will never get orders from anyone. Whatever you do, you do it entirely for your own pleasure. If in the process you contribute to saving the world, that’s a bonus. A way to reason with yourself is: by being happy you increase the overall amount of happiness in the universe, which is a huge deed.

5) join a community. You are probably used to have people around you: colleagues, students, people you meet at lunch, your elders and your peers and your subordinates. Suddenly you are on your own. Even if you have a partner and a family, you will lack a wider circle of like-minded, of people who share your interests beyond your profession. Almost every pastime will have a club, or several, physical or virtual. Search “Star Wars”, “Balcony gardening”, “Disc golf”, “Theorbe music”, “Basque cooking”, and you will find people passionate about the same things as you are. And in an unlikely case that you don’t find any, create your own club. It’s enough to be two to start, and you will be amazed how fast it grows.

6) maintain your connections. Stay in touch with your colleagues, on the understanding that you no longer talk shop – find other common interests: camel riding, UFO spotting, mushroom picking, collecting beer-bottle caps. Get in touch with those friends with whom you have been saying the past five years: “We must meet soon”. Nag them, invite them to something exciting. Perhaps one out of ten will respond, and that’s an achievement. Reconnect with your childhood friends, classmates, distant cousins. You will discover that fifty-year-old memories you share will bring you together even closer than you were once. But don’t be afraid to get new acquaintances. Within your new pastimes you will get to know new people so make sure you meet even outside clubs and events. Don’t be shy with people much younger than you. Think: when you were twenty somebody aged thirty was ancient. When you are 65+, age means significantly less. You can make new friends within a range of twenty years younger and, yes, twenty years older. While your recent students may be the same age as your grandchildren, once you no longer are in a teacher-student imbalance it does not matter.

7) all the above will only make sense if you are in good shape. You will doubtless have various ailments but as long as you are generally fit, physically and mentally, your life has a potential to be highly enjoyable. Of course there are things you cannot secure yourself against, but making your health a priority is essential. It doesn’t mean you have to spend three hours a day of your precious time in a gym (unless you like it). There are plenty of other activities: walking, running, biking, dance; and there are classes and clubs for seniors so that you don’t have to feel embarrassed next to perfectly fit youngsters. (Frankly, some retirees are much better fit than many youngsters). Try something you have never tried before. Maybe climbing or paragliding is your favourite, you just don’t know it yet. Don’t let absence of companions stop you, do it on your own. I am aware that some sports can be expensive, and you should not deny yourself anything as long as you can afford it, but there are plenty of things that are free and that can still make you fit and happy.

8) declutter. Whether you downsize or not, there is an enormous sense of freedom in getting rid of worldly possessions, and there are many gurus to guide you, but you can just use your common sense. Did you need dozens of smart outfits during your employment? Will you need them again? Keep two favourites, sell or give away the rest and free space in your wardrobe for nice leisure clothes. Do you really need five sets of dinner plates, seven teapots, ten table cloths and three dozen wine glasses? Will you ever use that cheese fondue pot that someone gave you for Christmas twenty years ago and that you only tried once? Some things will have a sentimental value, but at this stage in your life there is no point in keeping anything that “might come handy one day”. Those days will never happen. Keep only things you know you will use everyday or at least regularly. Ask your children, if you have children, whether they want anything – usually they don’t even when they are just about to start a household of their own. For many of us, the most difficult thing to get rid of will be books. Yet you are beyond the argument: “I might need it for work” or even “I will read it when I have time”. If you bought a book twenty years ago and still haven’t read it you probably won’t. And if you give it away and then suddenly feel an urge to read it, there are libraries. Think: how many books a year can you reasonably read? How many years have you theoretically left? Bookshelves lining every square inch of your walls were once a token of prestige and learning, even if you knew, and your guests knew, that you have only actually read a fraction of them. This attitude goes back all the way to 16^th century or even earlier, when books were rare and expensive. Not any more. So keep only books that you know you will re-read and books that are dear to you, for whatever reason (signed by the author, gifted by a dear friend, books your granny read to you when you were five). Once upon a time first editions could fetch you a fortune, but today it has to be something really exceptional so I wouldn’t bother.

9) adjust your inner clock. My most unexpected and most welcome discovery has been that time flows at a different pace when you don’t have work to go to every day (even if you work from home and just go to your desk). Everything you do you do slower, and everything takes longer – and it’s not simply fine, it’s the whole point! It doesn’t matter if you haven’t finished something you planned in the morning because you have all the time in the world. Maybe you got distracted and did something else, just as exciting, instead. Or maybe you were enjoying whatever you were doing so much that you didn’t want it to end. Or maybe you just needed to wind down and look around and have a quiet cup of tea – a luxury you couldn’t allow yourself before. You can even emphasise this slow pace: walk deliberately slowly paying attention to the environment, move slowly around your dwelling. Don’t multitask. We think that by multitasking we save time, but in fact we waste time because we are never fully engaged with whatever we are doing. Pay attention, live here and now. Have you noticed this funny sculpture by your local bus station that you have passed hundreds of times? Have you observed how the rose bush under your window has grown since last year? Have you considered the pattern on your plates and the exact shade of green on your curtains? Suddenly your life is so much richer in experience than before. Rather than saying, “Where has this week gone?” you say, “This has been such a full and exciting week!”

10) Keep rules and routines you enjoy and ditch those you don’t. If you have always hated that alarm clock ringing at six, throw it away and sleep as long as you wish in the morning. Have breakfast in your dressing gown – or in full makeup if you prefer. Make the bed, cook meals, wash up – if it mattered to you before. But if it didn’t, maybe you will discover that it does now because you will spend more time at home and want it to be neat. Absence of schedule may feel frustrating so make a schedule for yourself, based on your pastimes: yoga on Monday morning, baking club on Tuesday afternoon, and so on. Shop for groceries on the same day of the week. Water your plants at the same hour. It will bring structure into your life, without creating pressure. Because you are completely free to break your own rules.

11) Once again – and I know it is pathetically trivial – wake up every morning grateful that you are alive and in anticipation of wonderful things that the day has in store. If by the end of the day nothing spectacular has happened, you should still be grateful and hopeful about the day to come.

Annual report 2021

At this time of year I habitually write an annual report. I have just discovered, to my amazement, that I didn’t last year, and when I contemplate the reason it’s probably exactly why I am hesitant about doing it now. While most people I know, and millions that I don’t know, are experiencing the worst time imaginable, my year has been exciting and enjoyable.

True, there were two losses in the family, one profoundly tragic, the other perhaps less so, while it hit me more than I had expected. When I walked off three years ago I thought the hurt was so huge that I would never care whether my partner of almost forty years was dead or alive. Yet when he passed away this past autumn, it was as if the three years apart had been erased, and grief was acute. In a weird way it felt good since it was a closure much needed, as it turns out. To my surprise, I miss him terribly and only remember the good things from our years together. So, paradoxically, even a loss can add depth and meaning to your life.

Apart from that, and apart from some worrying health issues in the family, my life has not been affected by the global disasters. I eventually got covid last month, but thanks to three vaccine jabs, I had it mildly and was fully recovered after a week. Sweden has never had a full lockdown, and even during the tightest restrictions I was able to meet my grandchildren outdoors. This autumn we went to concerts, theatre and movies, met for coffee and meals – almost as normal. (There will never be the former normal again of course). I am blessed with grandchildren who want to spend some time with their old granny. I don’t think they do it out of duty. Maybe they find me interesting in some way. And not to forget – a granddaughter got married last September!

This year saw some great accomplishments, some planned, others unexpected. I took a three-day training to become a certified walking guide, and since then I have been leading walks both in my own neighbourhood and further away. I enjoy it a lot – hopefully my co-walkers do too. I made some new friends that way.

I have also continued my urban walks based on children’s books. I know these have been appreciated.

From my post-retirement wish list, I started learning Welsh. I had a choice between Welsh, Japanese and Hebrew, and I was perhaps a bit reluctant to choose a language with totally unfamiliar script, but Welsh proved challenging enough. I am learning for fun, as a brain exercise so I have no aspiration of ever getting fluent (“Bydda i erioed yn rhugl”). I do half an hour every day, sometimes more. I have learned just over a thousand words since I started last January. I don’t know (it has been such a long time since I learned a foreign language) how it compares to an average pace of learning, but I can construct simple phrases and even write brief journal entries. I speak Welsh to myself whenever there is an opportunity, like “Dw i’n mynd i gwneud coffi nawr”. I have joined a Facebook group of Welsh learners, for support and for fun.

An unexpected new activity has been ikebana, Japanese flower arrangement. I have always been fascinated, but never considered pursuing it; a friend invited me to a digital meeting of their Ikebana International chapter, I contacted my local chapter, they offered me a free trial class, and I was hooked. I had claimed repeatedly that I hate cut flowers because I feel upset when they wither, but ikebana is by definition an ephemeral art form where flowers are supposed to die so it turned out I could accept it. I have now received the first certificate and am halfway through the second one. A certificate is like a completed term in college, with a certain number of assignments to submit, and there are ten levels so I have yet far to go. I like clear goals, but the important thing is the joy of creation, as well as the sense of getting better. When I look at pictures of my first arrangements, they are pathetic, and I was so proud of them back then.

My miniature-making has also moved on to new heights. My business is going well with its premises. Since I am not dependent on it for a living, I feel satisfaction from the simple fact that people like my stuff and even make special orders. I now feel confident to make things I never dreamed of making a few years ago so when asked whether I can make this or that, I say: I have never made it before, but I can try. I don’t like mass-producing things (although I have occasionally made fifty tiny pumpkins on request), but rather inventing new things. I am a recycler and like using rubbish for my projects. I have the privilege of belonging to a hugely selective miniature club where I am learning a lot. I have participated in my first miniature show. I am building up a reputation. Luckily, so much networking can be done online, even though there is nothing like live events.

Book-binding hasn’t been as prominent this year, but I have tried some new techniques there as well.

I continue with balcony gardening (although not right now when it’s minus fifteen), enjoying the colours of my flowers and the taste of my veggies. I haven’t done as much as I could have, but I have made several improvements. 

In my communal garden, I enjoyed tulips and daffodils I had planted the year before; I harvested blackcurrants that I had planted the year before, and our maintenance team have, on my request, planted lilacs, magnolias and rhododendron we will enjoy next year.

I haven’t achieved my walking goal of 1,500 km, being short by 300. Maybe I set the goal too high, or maybe I was lazy. But how could I have been lazy when I walked almost 80 km on Camino de Santiago? A dream come true, after three postponements due to well-known reasons. 

Moreover, I went on two more walking holidays within Sweden, one of which my first mountain hike. Sweden is great for walking, and there is so much to explore!

With other exercise, my Pilates gym was closed for a while, but this autumn classes resumed, which was great. Since the gym is in town I frequently combined it with meeting a friend for lunch. I have also tried climbing and loved it. I will certainly do it again.

In spring, I took two online classes at Seniors’ University (aka University of Third Age), one in astronomy, the other on deserts. The latter proved more interesting. I realised I had been to half of world’s famous deserts, but I had no idea why they were where they were. Now I know. Always fun to learn something new.

My reading goal this year was 30 books, and my challenge was reading recent Swedish novels that I had neglected over the last ten years. I have read 35. Some were great reading experience, and many critically acclaimed and award-winning books were awful. At least I am now better informed about what is going on in Swedish literature.

I have enjoyed a lot of music this year. While concert halls were still closed I listened to free streamed and recorded concerts, but this autumn I went to a live concert almost every week. I have also been to opera, ballet and musical. Every morning and every evening I listen to Spotify. I like its feature Weekly Discovery. The algorithm alternates my favourites with its own suggestions which are indeed discoveries I probably wouldn’t have made myself. (By the way, “concerts” for me is exclusively classic music). Spotify tells me that my most listened-to artist this year was Alison Balsom, which was unexpected. My top piece, for second year running, is “Farewell to Stromness” since it is my bedtime music.

I have become quite fond of TV series – a genre I used to despise, which is of course a snobbish prejudice. My favourite this year was “The Good Place”. Occasionally I binge-watch, but mostly I watch one episode a day, looking forward to the pleasure the day after.

I still enjoy cooking for myself and trying new recipes. A Cambridge friend and I have had several cook-along days when we choose a cuisine and exchange our experience, in words and pictures, through WhatsApp. We have done Greek, Basque, Swedish, Sicilian, and more. When you cannot meet live, digital sessions are almost as good. 

I never thought I would bake so much, or bake at all, but here I am, baking buns, cakes and biscuits and even bread, just for myself.

Last but not least, my feline masters are getting more and more benevolent. One day they will sit on my lap.

Unlike most previous years, I have no publications nor any other academic accomplishments. There may have been some, but I have totally ignored them. I am still getting tons of invitations to give a conference paper, to contribute to a volume, to examine a thesis or review a book proposal, to which I reply: “You have received my auto-response, and I can confirm that…” The only thing that reminds me of my academic past is regular royalties.

I have been consistent in my anti-consumerism, and apart from craft supplies and a couple of essential kitchen utensils I honestly haven’t bought anything this year. I haven’t bought a single item of clothing, except a black skirt I needed for a funeral, and I got it from a second-hand shop. The only book I bought was a guidebook for the mountain area where I went hiking. My first-generation iPad from 2011 still serves me well.

This year marked forty years since I left Russia. My son and I celebrated appropriately, agreeing that it was the right thing to do. I have never regretted it.

As I have stated before, perception of time is different when you get old. I feel no stress, no pressing goals; every day is long and full of meaning. The pace is slow, and if at the end of the day I state that I haven't done anything useful, there is no need to be upset. I don't believe in happiness, but this is peace that you could not possibly imagine when you were young. 

At this point we typically make plans for the coming year. I can hardly imagine it being better still, but I do have things to look forward to. To begin with, I will be three-score and ten, and I intend to celebrate in style. I hope to walk another bit of the Camino. There may be another interesting travel experience. I have signed up for more craft shows. There are concert and theatre tickets waiting. Of course none of this may happen at all, but I have learned to take one day at a time and be grateful for every day I am alive and able to enjoy it. I am profoundly grateful for the joys of 2021.