I am sure Cornish rain is wetter than anywhere else!- it pelts down in big silvery baubles, slushing down the back of your neck, penetrating scarves, hats,hoods. Even the birds have disappeared as you slosh along on your walk with the water pouring out of the gutters. Then, later, you cross the river to see friends and it is like a Famous Five adventure- torch glittering in the raindrops, engine bubbling, the sound of your water-proofs squeaking against the plastic seats, waves gently pummelling the side of the little boat. the lights at the other side get closer, brighter, you step out onto "dry" land- (bit of a mis-nomer there!) and get a warm welcome, fortifying food and drink. Then, much later, back into the little craft, sliding across the by now flat calm sea and home to a nice warm toddy. But I have to say, roll on the warmth and the sun!!

Rain,sleet,more rain, wind, fog, rain, mist -- welcome to winter in Cornwall!-- and whoever says prices are going down in London must be mad-- they are still going up as far as we can see--we saw 2 flats last week, one we saw 2 years ago in a dreadful state was STILL in a dreadful state and is now £300,000 more expensive, the other has increased by £450,000 (50%!!! and it is not even very special) - WHAT IS GOING ON ??? Who has so much money to spend on dreadful property??? --- so we wait down here in the rain and the cold with the waves lashing around our building and the wind licking our cheeks and the salt spray stinging our eyes - actually quite magical at times--- at some point our perfect place will come up for sale and we shall be up there like a shot--- we don't for one minute miss our "ivory tower" which eventually sold last October after 4 false starts and a threat of sueing for vast sums when the buyer nearly didn't complete-- now we just want to get going with the next phase of our lives---

By popular request, and courtesy of A A Gill's Ivy cookbook---

150 g Cheddar chees, grated.
3 medium egg yolks
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp English mustard
6 drops Tabasco sauce
30 ml Guiness (not very much so you have to drink the rest, an added bonus!)
8 slices bread - a smaller bloomer loaf is ideal
salt and pepper.

Mix together all the ingredients except the bread, and season to taste. Toast the bread on both sides, spread the cheese mixture on top, abnout 1 cm thick and grill until browned. Delicious!

I do believe that living well means eating well and luckily I have acquired the perfect cookbook. It contains recipes from the Ivy Restaurant by A.A.Gill. So now we can enjoy crispy duck and watercress salad, bang bang chicken, not to mention their salmon fishcakes any time we want. This ties in nicely with our aim to find ways of living enjoyably but more cheaply - one of the best is their recipe for Welsh Rarebit - our Sunday evenings would not be complete without it! (The only trouble is that when I actually had it at aforementioned restaurant, dare I say it, it was not as tasty as my version---)The other "problem" is that you look at the menu there and think- "had that, had that,had that---" so really you don't need to go there atall--- But it is fun to eat relatively cheaply at home and then enjoy a nice meal out. One of the first meals I cooked for Liz 34 years ago, and which we still do today, is belly pork cooked very very slowly in a tin of Campbell's concentrated celery soup - it really is delicious! (although these days we have to use mushroom soup as they don't make the celery any more- have tried everywhere but to no avail.) We often have a fetta and watercress omelette, or tuna,celery,kidney beans,parsley,and sesame-seeds salad, or tart's pasta (tomato, parsley,chilli,garlic, spaghetti)- oh dear, I guess I shouldn't have missed lunch today!-- waiting for the people to come and remove our grand piano-- the first bit of yet more downsizing before we move in ever-decreasing circles----

I hoped the grass would be greener once i was no longer employed, and, yes, thank goodness, it is! As it happens, I used to have the most beautiful lawn,(I was the original lawn-mower man!) We laid it with turf supplied by the firm that had supplied the turf for Hogwarts in the Harry Potter films. We actually took a day out to go and choose our strips from a big field in which it had just sprouted---I nurtured it, fed it, watered it, mowed it in stripes, horizontally one time, them vertically, then diagonally- strangely therapeutic in the evening sun after a tough day - and, oh that smell of new mown grass- so fragrant and fresh and - well - green! I AM glad we sold the big house and garden before last summer when the hose-pipe ban would have turned it into a barren brown stump-land (of course it would always recover- grass is so resillient--)I actually made 2 compost bins too, based on ones we saw in the vegetable garden at Wisley. So those were our gardening years. I do miss my shed a little - oh yes we had all the acoutrements! Our vegetable garden was a picture with rows of leaks, peas, coriander, rasberries,-- and behind them a big dahlia bed which liz tended- tulips followed by poppies followed by dahlias-But all that is part of our PAST life now. We dont want to be rotting in a vast house and garden with children feeling obligated to come and visit. Now WE shall do the visiting and eventually we may become trendy grandparents living in Covent Garden-- a different but equally valid take on life as a still-new retiree---

Up before dawn this morning- couldn't sleep, worried, and an aching tooth. Amazing being in a city just as the light is coming up. I could hear the chimes of Big Ben striking 4am drifting down the Thames. A lonely bus pulled into the terminal, picked up a solitary worker and pulled off. A police car screamed by, sirens blaring, closely followed by an ambulance. A group of seagulls wheeled and screetched their wake-up calls, quite mysterious shapes silhouetted in the lightening sky. I looked down on empty offices with lights dimmed, and, unaware that I was watching, a cleaner started to vacuum. The air actually smelt fresh and clean and cool, in contrast to how it generally smells later in the day. Then the sun started to rise, miraculously sending rays which transformed the roof tops and office windows, making them glimmer and shimmer--- the city was coming alive at the start of another day-- The general low rumble that is a constant accompaniment to life in London grew louder, the bridge got busier, and my toothache got worse, so I'm off to the dentist. But you know, I miss the early morning sounds of childhood, being an old romantic-- that clink of the milk bottles, the delivery of the newspaper through the letterbox-- shall we ever have that again -? Only, I fear, if we were to move out of Central London---so you can't have everything and it WAS a rather magical time at 4am this morning---

I've just noticed that my skin is different to how it used to be--it kind of falls in folds around my stomach a bit - I lost a bit of weight last year and didn't notice it then -- it reminds me of those pictures of old men one sometimes sees- (though of course I am not old really!)-- the other pain is that I can't seem to straighten one finger --I guess that is a bit of arthritis? 1000 mg of fish oil coming up! And we both have these "age spots" appearing - it is entirely natural I am told but I remember looking at my grandmother's hands and thinking I didn't want to have hands like that--- well, hey ho, looks like we are going that way whether we like it or not! At least my head of hair is still a crowning glory- the hairdresser says I must have some Mexican in me, it is so strong and thick! We are still comparatively SO lucky though. There is an amazingly high statistic for people who retire and drop dead within the first six months -- they simply can not cope with not being defined by their work and feel lost in the world. We are truly enjoying the coming of spring, the lighter evenings, we have a true sense of hope for the future even though we are taking the biggest gamble of our life in selling our flat and not looking for anywhere else until the money is in the bank (well actually an internet bank where we can get 5.6% interest or more- we swap our meagre savings around with some regularity, another thing we have time for--).So, forward into the day---

Retiring, as we are,gracefully,we went to a private view of"Unknown Monet"at the Royal Academy last evening. We stood with half of Middle England, queueing in the courtyard with a freezing wind buffeting us- when who should come slowly down the steps towards a waiting car but Lady Antonia Fraser,glorious in a purple pashmina, and Harold Pinter, walking with a stick, looking very frail. How amazing to see them in real life - they had obviously had a REAL private view-- Anyway, we held back in the queue to let them pass by us-funny how one really admires true talent, not all those B-listers. What a great exhibition too! The value of these Times-organised private views is that, for a relatively small sum, you get a v.good talk by someone passionate about Monet, the ability to see the exhibition 1 person deep, (instead of 4 or 6 deep,as at the Tate's Hogarth exhib.,) and you get to drink wine and eat nibbles in two extraordinary golden gilded rooms which are re-hung each time we go. And you even get a goody bag at the end-one of whose contents was a special Monet oyster card holder- Liz has bagged mine already- she is like a child in her glee!One of the ARTS of the private view , apart from admiring the paintings obviously,is to move nearish to the wine waiter- if you just happen to be standing near one you can certainly get a nice full refill,(or two!) making your ticket even better value!Home to smoked salmon/philedelphia rolls and another glass of white wine-- v nice evening!

I sit looking at the old tea caddy decorated with an ancient scratched coronation picture. I am at Mrs B's with the last ever batch of ironing. She is brewing me a proper cup of tea with tea-leaves (none of this teabag stuff!)There is a magnificent patchwork tea-cosy on the tea-pot and a plate of hot-cross buns next to it and some Tesco finest strawberry jam. The mood is sombre. Mrs B has been with us for longer than I dare think. She started cleaning our first house over 30 years ago, and has been with us through thick and thin. When her artificial leg finally became too much of a nuisance, she started doing our ironing, and my god could she iron! Even my shirts with frayed and battered collars and cuffs came back looking as though, put them in cellophane and they could have sold as new! I must admit it has always been one of my little luxuries to have a shelf full of folded shirts. Liz tells me I now have to get used to hanging up my shirts in the cupboard - neither she nor I can fold to save our lives (let alone iron, actually) and anyway, life is too short----Now my 60s retro black polo necks seem a good option --except summer is coming. I am not a jeans and T-shirt sort of chap but the LandsEnd seersucker shirts aren't atall bad, and they don't need ironing! Anyway, Mrs B is moving on, as indeed are we, hopefully, so it will no longer be economic to drive all the way over to the other side of London with a basket of ironing every week. So fare-well, Mrs B -- you were a treasure every home should have, and we shall put on a cuppa and raise our mugs to you.

We are slightly in a mid-life crisis, with aging parents hundreds of miles away, living in a big house with a huge garden and refusing absolutely to get help. We all try to persuade them but they are adamant. (Perhaps that is why we consciously have moved somewhere small.) Mother, in her mid-eighties has become like a delightful little girl again - from running her home so completely ship-shapely, and producing fantastic banquets, we go to stay and there is dust on the window sills and the bed-linen smells ever-so-slightly of cheesy feet- her sheets always had this wonderful smell of Fairy Snow and lavender --it is sad -- and yet, at 11.30am she is saying, "is it time for our drink yet?" A glass of red wine is now obligatory -- good for her heart you see, then at 5.30 the same thing -- and she is happy, even when she suddenly switches out of consciousness and forgets who we are and then , equally suddenly , switches back in again. It is hard to imagine them not around. I reflect on life and think of friends made from schooldays, from university, friends made when the children were born,when they were at school, friends made as we moved from one home to another. My best friend committed suicide a few years ago, another very good friend died a couple of years back --this is the time of life when one no longer seems immortal --so best just to get on, get up and ENJOY every day.