Why we’re worried about retirement

“I am overjoyed at the judges’ decision to significantly reduce Al’s sentence, such that he can be released imminently. This is the moment we have all been fighting hard for” - Claire Blackman, wife of Royal Marine Sgt Alexander Blackman, whose sentence for killing a wounded Taliban fighter has been reduced I THINK the letter from Sue Papworth (Feedback, March 23) was a perfect example of how the older generation must feel.

She states they have always been here, just younger, but gradually getting older as we all do.

They have all paid their way in this life and should therefore be well looked after now.

How many people are in this country who have never paid anything into it but are at the front of the queue when it comes to taking out?

I am nearing my pension age and fear I might not be able to afford retirement as my wife is five years younger than me so she will be 66 before she gets her pension. I will be 71.

This is not what we planned when we were starting out, but due to the people who sit behind desks lifting no more than a telephone and a pen we are left in limbo.

I find it funny that when selfemployed National Insurance contributions are now not going up in line with employed people that nothing is being done to help people like me and my wife and probably thousands in the same situation by stopping these crazy pension age increases. WITH great sadness I read in the Examiner about the death of Adam Syslo at 50 years old.

My late wife’s nephew, Timothy, is the same age as Adam and had the same blond hair.

They met in Greenhead Park when they were seven years old.

They were drawn to each other like a bee to honey.

For many years we took them by train and occasionally by bus to the Peak District and had exceptionally happy times with them.

During the train journeys we had exhibitions of wrestling.

After arriving at the Peak District they explored every cave, hole and ledge they could find. We carried a rope with us. Once, we got off at Hope Station and then walked on the spur of the Peaks.

They had cagoules with kangaroo pockets in which they carried picnic dinners, including soft boiled eggs.

Shortly before we reached Mam Tor we saw a slope of lush, fine green grass.