Since my last post on Rooted to the Spot I have written several articles but they were all turned down by my editor. He said they weren't sufficiently in the style of Brexit and had little to do with my retirement. I insisted that they couldn't be altered, that retirement was retirement and if he didn't like what I'd produced the deal was off. He'd have to make do with nothing.
So for the last two months we have been in a tit for tat stalemate argument getting nowhere. Now I have written this preamble to the original article and changed a few occurrences of "my intention" to "my firm intention" my editor has reluctantly agreed to publish but the row over the future direction of this column has not been resolved.
The problem has been that my retirement projects in the style of Brexit had been suspended because I have been spending the majority of my time campaigning against Brexit with a lot of other retired people. But on the other hand that's fine. Brexit is taking all the time and effort of the government and the promise to work for the JAMs that our "Dear Leader" (we have to call her that in preparation for when she begins weilding her Henry VIII powers which we will not like but for which we must pretend to love her because she is dedicated to honouring the will of people and we must not go against our own will as she is delivering it for us) made on her accession to the Leadership have also been suspended (or forgotten), so it is consistent with retirement in the style of Brexit that it takes all my time and my original plans have become almost forgotten.
Long walks with the dog have become long walks round housing estates - old, new, rich, poor, right to buy, too expensive to buy. Long hours, trudging in and out of gates, up and down garden paths, risking the bite of the spring-snap lips and bristle-teeth of letter boxes as leaflet after leaflet after leaflet is delivered.
City sightseeing is done from march routes; theatre trips are replaced by motivating or educational talks; campaign meetings stand in for social occasions; study of international trade has replaced my study of plant pest control (now the pests are now ravaging my spring cabbage & cauliflowers) and social media keyboard warrior activities have supplanted my relaxing bed time read.
So while my retirement in the style of Brexit is nothing like I expected and it is far from what I had originally promised myself it is still my firm intention to plough ahead regardless and deliver it, because in the true style of Brexit I have to believe that whatever happens and wherever I find myself it will always be where I wanted to be, even if it's terrible.
Except it isn't. And I don't. But in that nothing is turning out how I planned I'm still on track.