Winter in Spain sure is appealing... but I’m not the retiring type

THERE surely can’t be a single one among you reading this whose thoughts don’t stray at least once a day to the prospect of retirement. This is probably a more frequent occurrence for those of you who, like me, are hurtling towards the finishing tape. What once seemed like a mountain far, far away is coming into ever sharper resolution – all things being equal, I will qualify for my pension in six-and-a-half years.

The daydreams usually involve thoughts of never spending another winter in Ireland. I have a few older friends who wait around to celebrate Christmas with their families at home, then hop on the plane to the south of Spain to see out the cruel weather excesses from January to the end of March.

In most cases, they even save money, with the cost of renting offset by waving goodbye to fuel bills, and paying lower prices for food and drink, especially in bars and restaurants.

Fantasy

It is a lovely fantasy, one that has sustained me on many a day like yesterday, which was gloomy and damp even here in the allegedly sunny southeast, but it is a dream many have little chance of ever seeing converted into reality.

In a new survey of 1,000 adults, conducted by iReach for private pension provider Royal London Ireland, only a quarter of respondents said they saw themselves retiring at 66. This is a reflection, no doubt, of the new rules due to come into effect in January next year. From that date, if you choose to work through, you will qualify for higher weekly State pension payments. If you retire at 66, you will get €253; at 67, €266; at 68, €281; at 69, €297; and at 70, €315.

Now maths has never been my strong point, but you can see the attraction in carrying on. If you carry on working, not only will your weekly income very likely exceed even the top figure quoted there, you also have that €72 a week extra to look forward to at the end of it all.

There is, of course, a significant trade-off. Life expectancy in Ireland is the highest in Europe, at 82.66 years. But even if you reached that milestone, you’d have only 12 years of retirement to enjoy if you quit at 70.

Would you not rather 16 years by leaving at 66?

The elephant in the room, of course, is money. Most of us will probably not be in a position to afford to go at 66. Of the people who said they would work to 70, over half said this was because they would have to do so, not because they wanted to.

I understand that, because a lot depends on the job.

My late father delivered home central heating oil in all weathers, and there comes a time when a drenching really is one too many. He was lucky to get out at 60 and I’m glad he did, because he was a young 68 when he died, and at least had a little time to enjoy his golf and his holidays away. There are plenty of others whose jobs are indoors, but are also endlessly repetitive over the course of a lifetime. Who wouldn’t want to leave that?

But then there are others like me who quite like the idea of retirement, but in truth don’t really want to. In June, it will be 42 years since I wrote my first piece for a national newspaper, and I’ve loved every day of my work ever since. I can’t place hand on heart and say no two days were ever the same, because a lot of newspaper work is the sheer slog of filing it and getting it onto the presses, and a lot less glamorous than the Hollywood image with which you might be familiar.

Nevertheless, it is a fascinating job, with endless capacity to astound. Ten years ago, with no particular plans for the week, I got a call from the office one Monday morning – two nights later I was standing in St Peter’s Square watching Pope Francis being elected. In 1987, when I was writing about music in the Evening Herald, the editor called me down to his office, also on a Monday, and we had a little chat. That Thursday night I was in Tempe, Arizona, for the very first gig on U2’s Joshua Tree world tour. These things don’t happen every week, but when they do, they remind you that you’re lucky to be in a job that can spring such delightful surprises.

That doesn’t mean you’re not cognisant of the fact that change is inevitable. I’m in good health at the moment, but these are the years when things can trip you up, sometimes literally as once supple joints decide to remind you who’s boss. I’m on a lowdose aspirin and a statin every day, and I inject once a week for my type 2 diabetes, and all is good, thankfully. But while the next decade might leave that exactly as is, it could change it for the worse. Who knows?

Powerful

So, yes, the ‘winter in Spain’ fantasy is certainly a powerful one, but then you wonder how exactly you would fill your day. It’s not like a holiday when you’re busy sightseeing.

The world has got a lot smaller, and you can watch Netflix or Prime or Apple TV+ anywhere; some friends have Sky boxes in their homes overseas, and can even sit down at night to watch RTÉ and BBC.

But you always wonder if the bottle of wine that is a treat at home would become a daily staple abroad, and if that’s a good thing. Physical separation from family and friends would bring its own challenges. Fundamentally too, I like our seasons. I love a run of good weather in summer, but I also like hibernating in winter.

Above all, though, my job is an intrinsic part of who I am. I have a lifetime of experience in this game, and I’m not prepared to turn my back on it just yet.

I’ll whisper this last bit, just in case my bosses have other plans, but I think I’ll be hanging on for a few years longer than they might think!