In my last post I commented on what seems to be the frantic nature of life as you run from one commitment to another. Who’d have thought how easily you can fall into the trap of doing this, even when you are retired and theoretically have time at your disposal.
I’ve been ruminating on my folly and although that wonderful feeling of tranquility is clearly linked to a slower tempo, it isn’t true that in order to appreciate the joy of life you always have to operate at a snail’s pace. Indeed the early years of retirement are very definitely an opportunity for adventure and exploration; deriving thrill from the novel and unfamiliar.
Two weeks ago, when I was in London for Grandotty’s birthday, I took advantage of the Eldest and Dilly working, Grandotty spending the day in nursery and Mister E struggling with an aching foot, to set out alone. On this occasion I headed for Whitehall and the Churchill War Rooms. It’s not a venue that I have ever visited before and I certainly found it intriguing. There’s a rare pleasure in going to see somewhere alone; perhaps you concentrate more on the surroundings without the distraction of conversation, or maybe it’s the ability to linger without guilt when you find particular interest in a specific object, I’m not entirely sure.
I proceeded also to the nearby Institute of Contemporary Art and its New Contemporaries exhibition. Cardboard boxes, piles of discarded clothing, the crushing burden of a family dinner time; kinship, angst, sustainability and consumerism were all there for exploration. It wasn’t the kind of art to hang in your living room but it spoke volumes and again there was the opportunity to appreciate its impact without feeling the need to discuss and divulge your reaction.
At the end of my little expedition, I felt revitalised and refreshed. There are many ways to revel in the moment. On Wednesday I achieved it through the quietness of spa therapy; solitary tourist and art critic were the conduits in London.
