Monday, 10 July 2006

slippers an' pantaloons and the great exodus

Can I just tell you something I am not about to retire and nor am I moving to the cockin' country despite everybody doing it, doing it, doing it, yes, picking their nose and chewing it, just like you, see i'm way too immature to retire.

Lately, if I have not been gallavanting to the country way up north, I’ve been down the south and interstate or heading west of the Blue Mountains visiting friends who have left Syd. and bought their retirement homes. I have so many people telling me about retiring this, retirement that that I’m starting to freak out. Sweetheart, if I can’t personalise your statement or experience it is not worth my while listening. While i commend their railing against the Costello work till you drop plan, I can't see how it's financially possible. It was a big enough step getting a mortgage last year, i was fine about turning 40 - had had 3 years of coming to terms with that, and even if I did get the retirement bug I’m mortgaged until I’m 69. So can I just adjust to being middle-aged bloomer before labelling myself Senior?

The Sydney exodus has been affecting me for the past ten or so years, hey, even I left Sydney, to go and live in a smug, provincial town in another country only to return 18 months later to more of the same with the election of villainous forked tongued John.

Since then I have become increasingly alarmed and saddened by the steady migration of friends to the coast, the country and to the bluestone flatlands of Mel, openly voiced it, but eventually come to understand the appeal of the new destinations, even toyed with the idea of movin' to Mel, but i couldn't possible do that until I retire.

2 comments:

boy said...

Move to Melbourne already, geeze

Mistress Bel said...

I am not old enough, ooh ooh