All Blog Posts

Not Sure Where to Look?

Here's all my articles and personal thoughts around my retirement journey and the tools I've used to try to reduce the panic.

Who Do You Actually Have to Tell When You Stop Working?

A few weeks into retirement I woke up half-convinced I'd forgotten to tell someone official that I'd stopped. It turns out there's almost no one to tell. Here's who genuinely needs to know, including the insurers most people forget, and why the list is shorter and stranger than you'd expect.

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Your Pension Provider Will Be in Touch. Most of It Can Wait.

Resign, and your pension provider starts sending you options to choose and decisions to make, often before you feel ready for them. If you're not about to draw on the pot, most of them can wait. Here's what they'll put in front of you, the handful of things actually worth doing now, and how to avoid being rushed into something you can't undo.

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What to Take Into a Pension Consultation (and What to Watch For)

A meeting with an adviser or your pension provider is one of the few times you can get expert eyes on your plan. Go in prepared and it's a useful hour. Go in vague and it's a sales pitch you half-follow. Here's the prep I'm doing for my own, the information to gather, the questions worth asking, and the things that should make you pause.

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Two Weeks In - What Empty Time Defaults To

I deliberately built no structure into these first weeks. I wanted to decompress, not swap one diary for another. What I hadn't reckoned on was where empty time actually goes when you don't fill it, which turns out to be straight into my phone.

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Filer à l'anglais - Leaving Quietly

At work events, when the room filled up and the noise climbed, I would find the door. A quiet word to the few people who mattered, then gone before anyone formed a circle for a speech. The Irish goodbye. The French call the same move filer à l'anglais, slipping off English-style. I've done it for most of my working life, and my last day was no different.

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I've Completed the Game

A few years back I sank hundreds of hours into Fallout 4. I built it up, finished it, and bought more of it when it ran out. Now I load the old save now and again and there's nothing left to do. I've been thinking about that more than I expected to, with my last working day nearly here.

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Thirteen Thousand Days

On the long drive this week I worked out exactly how long I've spent employed. Thirty-six years, near enough thirteen thousand days on one payroll or another. I'd gone looking for proof that the time added up to something. The number couldn't give it to me.

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Who Am I Going to Be Annoyed At Now?

We were having dinner last night, me, my wife and my son, and the joke going round was how I'd cope in retirement without anyone asking me things. With my last working day nearly here, people have started queuing up to get the last of what's in my head before it walks out the door, and I've been making a great show of being put upon about it.

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What Will I Actually Do All Day? What happens next?

The list has been building for years: an overgrown garden, guttering that's needed replacing for a while, rooms I keep meaning to redecorate and never get to. I've given myself a few weeks after 26 June to decompress, and the obvious move is to spend them clearing that backlog. I think that would be a quiet mistake.

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The State Pension: Demographics, Cost, and the Immigration Question

My State Pension forecast shows a little over £12,500 a year in today's money, payable from 67. That's nine years off for me. In my retirement plan it sits right at the bottom, the guaranteed floor under everything else, the part that's meant to be certain. Every few months a headline makes me poke at how certain "certain" really is. 

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