This was a row that had simmered for years but hadn’t yet been defused. It was an underground river of molten lava that threatened to erupt but, apart from the odd burps of hot magma, remained sluggishly subterranean and unacknowledged.
The accelerant was the proposed retirement, in five years’ time, of Joan and Hywel. Each had busy and fulfilling jobs – which had masked their need to discuss points of incompatibility and irritation. However, they were both keen to leave the worlds of work for the worlds of…..well this was the main problem.
Hywel was already busy compiling his bucket list of post work possibilities.
‘I’ve booked a taster session with the hang gliders. They need more members and it sounds great, floating over the earth, wind in my face….’
Joan was unimpressed.
‘Look I’ve nothing against you jumping off a cliff, but isn’t it a bit soon to start intensive retirement planning?’
‘Well what do you think makes for a good retirement, then?’
‘I would like,’ Joan said thoughtfully, although she hadn’t got far with any plans, ‘to do a bit of travelling, catch upon on all the reading time I’ve missed, maybe take my cello playing to a higher level, perhaps do some writing for fun instead of for work reports, join a walking group…’
‘Hm, sounds like more of the same to me. Where’s the excitement in that?’ Hywel was rather anxious about the prospect of filling his bucket list with sensational and possibly scandalous things to do, but felt he needed to take a stand when it came to innovation and thrill seeking. ‘I’ve also booked up for several ‘experience’ days. Hot air ballooning and caving first of all – see if they suit.’
‘OK, fine.’ Joan was visibly irritated. ‘So you’ve got a bucket and a list in it. No reference to my bucket and my list. We have separate buckets and separate lists. Maybe we need to consider separate lives? In fact, if I’m honest, top of my list is a move to France – a small place in the Normandy countryside, maybe a few chickens and definitely a couple of dogs for company.’
Hywel hid is shock to some extent but Joan’s move was almost at the point of checkmate. ‘France, yes, we had some lovely holidays, but uprooting?…’
Joan had the high ground. ‘Well it’s an exciting idea and since we seem to be compiling separate bucket lists, why not separate lives in separate countries?’
‘Are you saying we should divorce?’
‘I’m saying that everything is on the table and open for consideration. Let’s look at our options. Let’s talk for once. You want thrills like hang gliding, I’m keen on pastoral simplicity. Why compromise?’
Hywel drooped in his chair. He needed to rethink the contents of his bucket. He couldn’t quite figure out why it seemed to be leaking.
‘Anyhow,’ Joan was guiding proceedings with some confidence at this point, ‘we don’t retire for 5 years, plenty of time to get plans ironed out.’
