I have always loved the luxury of quiet days. Days when I don’t have to go anywhere. When I can curl up with my book, or potter around the house, go for my walk, and then curl up with my book. Or my journal. But it took me years after I retired before I stopped feeling guilty if I spent a whole day being “unproductive”… whatever that means. As if reading, drinking tea and reading, or reading followed by time spent writing in my journal or just staring out at the ducks on the river were not worthwhile activities in themselves.
When I was still teaching, quiet, do-nothing days were indeed a luxury and happened only in the summer or during the week between Christmas and New Year’s. I revelled in them, knowing that once school started and things geared up, I’d have little time for lolling with my book. During term-time, Saturdays were for cleaning and cooking, and Sundays were for school work, prepping, and marking. So the hour I spent with my book and a cup of tea on Saturday morning before I began my household chores was sacrosanct. Of course I recognize that not having kids gave me much more scope for quiet time than my colleagues who juggled not only their work commitments but family ones as well.
When Hubby retired and I was still working he attempted, a couple of times, to join me with his Saturday morning cuppa and was soundly, and soundlessly, rebuffed. All it took was a look. Ha. Poor Hubby. Now we share our morning tea most days, and it’s one of the things I love about being retired.
After a decade, I think I can safely say that I’ve grown into my retirement. I don’t feel that I need to account for my time to anyone. Not even Hubby. I do what I choose. He does what he chooses. And we choose what we want to do together respecting each other’s individual plans. I feel free to identify what and how I want to spend my days, without feeling guilty that I’m not “busy enough.” And I carefully sprinkle each week with a sufficient number of quiet days to keep me satisfied. And happy. And contented.
I still make time for one book club. We meet every six weeks or so, and last Sunday was one of those days. We had a great fish and chip lunch at a pub, a lively discussion, and we stopped as we were leaving to listen to the fiddle group which meets at the pub every Sunday afternoon. As a Maritime girl, I can’t resist fiddle music.
And when I arrived home, there was still time for a cup of tea and an hour with my book before dinner. That, to me, is one of the great luxuries of retirement. When I was working, I might have a wonderful Sunday lunch with friends, but once in the car driving home, my mind would turn instantly to what had to be done before Monday morning. Did I need to finish marking a set of essay tests, or prep a new unit of study, or set the agenda for a department meeting? Work pressures always flooded back in because Sunday was essentially a work day, a planning and getting ready for Monday day.
Now I find I still sit down at my desk on Sunday to look at my upcoming week. But that planning is a self-inflicted labour of love, my friends.
This past week, I also met with former colleagues for breakfast. We do this three or four times a year. The group is always changing depending on who is in town and who is travelling. Thanks to the inspiration of our organizer, we donate to a scholarship that we created to support kids at the school where we all taught. Every year one worthy student earns a scholarship from the JMSS Staff Alumni. I love that idea.
And on Friday, Hubby and I went to get our Christmas tree. This is an all-day adventure. But I’ll tell you more about it in a later post. Let’s just say that we had fun and came home with a lovely tree. See the video of Hubby and the tree-shaker below.
And that was my week. Three activities which necessitated leaving the house. And the luxury of several quiet days at home.
I worked out every day but Sunday. Like I do most weeks. And in between, I researched possible blog topics. I’m reassessing the direction of my blog. Mostly I was reading articles, thinking, and taking notes. Hubby and I tried a couple of new recipes for dinner. I talked to my sister on the phone. Decided on a new knitting project. Hubby and I talked about future travel plans and started our research. And I read.
Mostly I’ve been reading a book called Before Billy written by my friend Kim, with whom I went to school. It’s a cracking book. I’m enjoying it immensely.
Kim’s book is about a woman named Anna who suffers spousal abuse and awakens, in hospital, after a particularly vicious attack to find that she has been catapulted back in time to the year 1965. Concussed, in pain, and feeling as if she must be losing her mind, Anna realizes that she is an adult who now exists in a place and time she knew as a child. She has no choice but to try to fit in and piece together a life in this new, unbelievable, and unlikely reality.
Anna eventually meets her future husband as a child, and begins to understand why he turned into the man she later married. In her mind, she begins to refer to the child as “Before Billy” to distinguish him from “After Billy,” the man he later became. In an odd way, the fact that Anna herself can’t believe this is happening to her makes it easier for the reader to accept the plot.
As I said, I’m enjoying Kim’s book a lot. I love the parts where Anna from 2021 tries to adjust to life in 1965. No flattening irons for her curly hair, she has to resort to rollers. No microwaves. One television channel. And the very limiting social mores of small town Marysville, New Brunswick in the early sixties. I’m only half way through, and I’m enjoying speculating on where she’s going with the story.
Kim and I grew up in the same small town where she set her novel. We knew the same places, had the same schoolmates. And the same teachers. That’s our grade eight class photo above. And that’s Kim with the long, red, curly hair in the front row. You can imagine that it’s been fun for me to revisit Marysville, New Brunswick in 1965, albeit through the eyes of Kim’s character, Anna.
But what has really fascinated me as I read is the idea of visiting, as an adult, the places and people we knew as children.
Several times this week, when I’ve not been pedalling my exercise bike, starting that new knitting project, researching for our trip or for my blog, or chatting to Hubby, I’ve been staring out at the river, Kim’s book resting unseen in my lap, and dreaming of 1965.
I would love to meet my former teachers as an equal. Or work in the Motor Vehicle Branch in the Centennial Building in Fredericton at an adjacent desk to my mum? We might wander up-street together during our lunch hour and browse in Levine’s or Creaghan’s department stores. Or like Kim’s character Anna, visit the newly built Zeller’s on Queen Street which boasted the only escalator in town.
I could meet my sisters when they were teenagers. And not as the baby sister. Or see my brother Terry again, when he could still walk, when all the girls in Marysville thought he was a heart throb.
Or maybe I’d go back even further. What would 1943 be like in Fredericton? I’d meet my grandparents when they weren’t old. And get to know my aunt Marion, my mum’s older sister who died so young. How I’d love to join my mum’s group of friends and get to know her before she married, and had kids, and her life was changed by tragedy.
But would I love it?
Maybe not. Maybe life in 1943, or even 1965, in Fredericton would be very different in reality. Not at all what I imagine through the rose-coloured lens of nostalgia.
So that’s what has been keeping me busy this week, my friends. Or un-busy, I should say. I make no apology for not being busy. I think we should normalize making time for doing little. I won’t say doing nothing. Because in my opinion reading, writing, dreaming, even watching the ducks on the river is not nothing.
And now that I’ve acclimatized to retirement and to my own pace of life, I feel incredibly lucky to be able to afford the luxury of quiet days. As many quiet days as I want.
P.S. That photo above is of me and five friends from school. As I say in the IG post, “six sixty-six-year-old ladies who have known each other since the sixties.” Since before 1965, even. For your information four of us are in that 1969 class photo above. I wonder if you can identify us.
P.P.S. Kim’s book Before Billy has not been published. Not yet anyway.
51 thoughts on “The Luxury of Quiet Days”
You say you’re reevaluating your blog, so I want to say that I love the weekly chats I get to share with you every week. I hope you don’t change it too much.
I’m a wee bit older than you, graduated in ’65, and also love the quiet days at this stage of life. In my pre-retirement days I owned a little fabric store and craved quiet alone time, which rarely happened. But now I’m a widow, my kids and grands live over an hour away and life is mostly peaceful. My days are filled with quilting, reading, hiking and gardening – depending on the weather. I’m loving my 70s!
Thanks, Cathy. I am looking for some different topics that will keep me excited about writing. But I probably won’t make major changes. 🙂
Like you , I need & love my quiet time . My younger sister Patsy can’t understand me , she’s a typical extrovert & thrives on company . We had lunch out this week with our youngest sister & Patsy’s already getting excited about all the Christmas ‘merriment’ whilst I’m looking forward to escaping to a small cottage in Shropshire . I’m not a hermit , I like visiting new places , seeing new things & chatting with passersby but I’ve never been a party girl . I like my friends a few at a time with the chance to have good conversations without having to shout . I don’t feel the need to fill my time with worthy pursuits these days either & my days are very like yours ( but with more gardening & less ironing 😁 ) Bertrand Russell said ‘ the time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time ‘ & he was no slouch . It’s so nice that you have managed to keep in touch with many of your old school friends & at such a distance too .
I am a reformed party girl. And have no wish to return to those days. I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed my alone time, or how much of it I needed until I retired. I was such an extrovert at work. Both Stu and I worried that I wouldn’t find retirement easy. That cottage in Shropshire sounds lovely.
Having only found your blog this year, I hope you’re not thinking of stopping.
I enjoy the fashion, the philosophical comments on life and anything cerebral that you offer. PLUS, I think where you live is divine.
Keep writing…
Oh, I intend to keep writing. But I feel as if I’n getting a bit stale and I’m casting about for some new avenues to explore.
I am adjusting to a smaller and quieter life and while it might not be my choice, there are elements that are surprisingly enjoyable, given the dire weather we are experiencing here at the moment. Early nights, later mornings. Plenty of opportunities for cups of tea and listening to podcasts. Re travelling back in time…some years ago, at a school staff meeting, I got the chance to revisit my very first school which I went to from the age of five, but this time as a teacher. Slightly peculiar experience; many things looked exactly the same, some had naturally changed and some had completely slipped my mind over the years – the beautiful wood carving on the stairs, the intricate metal railings on the upper level walkways (never went up there as a small child), to say nothing of the change of perspective. It was oddly comforting to be able to stand in PRECISELY THE SAME PLACE I had been sitting on the fateful day when I started to panic over doing my sums and realise that, many years later, I was now a very capable mathematician, despite the decades of fall-out following that experience. Squaring the circle (if that is geometrically possible). Enjoy your twinkling tree.
I’ve never been back to my elementary school. But when I did my practice teaching we had to observe in all the “panels,” as we call them here. So I sat in on grade one classes, taught a few grade six classes (eleven-year-olds), grade eight (thirteen-year-olds), as well as high school. The grade one classrooms were a revelation. Those tiny desks! I sat in one and could hardly pry myself out when I tried to stand. It’s hard to imagine oneself as that small.
I hear you about the enforced slower pace. Hoping that things look rosier in the new year. xo
Where are you in the class picture?
Second row from the top, second person on the left? 🙂
If I could hazard a guess here, I would say that little Sue was second from the left in the second row from the top? Noticed her beautiful vest with the soutache trim.
That was my guess too — early fashionista development!
Yes, to all the guessers. That’s me in the second from the top row, second person from the left. Feeling all cool and groovy in the outfit that Mum bought me for Christmas. I’m surprised that no one mentions the bouffant hair. I think someone might have subjected me to a touch of “backcombing” before I left the house that morning. Ha.
Beautiful! I hear you,Sue-I love and cherish my time with no pressure
As years go by,I need more and more time at home,to charge the batteries,as much as I love to go out and meet people
I’ve just left a comment at Frances’ about parallel universe-and here we have time travel 🙂
You both redheads have such amazing hair
Dottoressa
I didn’t remember Kim’s hair being quite that red. It was so lovely. And mine still has a reddish tinge too. 🙂
I love your description of retirement. I am in the throes of working and feeling I can only enjoy downtime on the weekend after I’ve finished my productivity. It sounds lovely to leave that feeling behind, but I suppose that feeling is really nothing more than a state of mind. Your friend’s book sounds intriguing, and I hope she will publish it!
I hope she will too. 🙂
I am 100% in your mindset about how we spend our days. At first I was confused about the lack of “imposed busyness” until I replaced it with activities of my own choosing and then gave value to those activities. I think what I like most about not working in corporate media (as I did for decades) is my freedom from that “false sense of urgency” in which last minute–and unrealistic– deadlines appeared out of nowhere, often because someone else didn’t do their job. SO thank you for the post. It’s lovely reading.
I am so happy not to have to abide by someone else’s sense of emergency. And only worry about the deadlines that Hubby and I choose. Except for tax time, of course. 🙂
Like many others, I love my alone and quiet time. When I retired in 2015, I was told the first year is a year of “detox”. To shed the reflex to look at the clock, to unclench facial muscles and just relax, to not fuss about bad weather and a commute in the snow, ice and rain. I’m still very active, but I have one day a week that is a “home ” day, with no activities scheduled. Doing nothing is really not wasting time. Took a long time to learn that.
Detox is an excellent way to put it. My detox year was the second year I retired because Hubby had major health issues the first year.
I’ve always loved staring into space. I specialize in it. I also feel guilty or have felt guilty about not doing other things while taking that time. I especially felt so when I was young – as though I wasn’t as worthy as others or wasting my life given that I wanted to be alone with my quiet activity rather than joining the crowd out somewhere. Now we understand that as introversion (which makes my current job quite hard on me at times, given that I’m exposed to a lot of people with heavy demands of me that I can’t escape, even on weekends). I revel in those quiet, dreamy days, and realize that they are about filling the well..
Coincidental that you’ve started a knitting project, as I’ve just picked up a knitting project again that had been sitting idle for a number of months. I’m feeling drawn to rustic, me-made things again and planning accordingly!
Stu shaking with the tree made me laugh. It’s something I would do. My partner is generally funner than I am and he makes me howl with his clever imaginings, but I’m more the physical comedian of the two. 🙂
Now that I’ve chosen what to knit, I just have to do it. Ha.
I love this post because it touches on something I’ve been thinking about lately – purpose. Here in the states, we tend to commodify that word, associating it with things that we do or achieve. But I prefer the word meaning, which is less about checking off milestones than noticing and savoring the everyday wonders of our lived experience. That’s what this post, with its quiet days and books and friends, reminds me of. It’s a lesson worth learning again and again.
Wendy, I love your thoughts on “purpose!” “Meaning” is perfect, and one I would rather think about rather than “purpose” as “something I need to do or achieve.” You are correct that we here in the states think of it that way…Thank you for this perspective! Sue, I love that you share your experiences, thoughts and different perspectives on your blog, and enjoy reading each and every one?
I agree… meaning rather than purpose is a better word.
I think you are the one with a cool vest, second from left in the second from the top row. Hope you give the answer….
Yes… you are correct! The cool vest and the poofy hair. Ha.
My transition to retirement seems less complete than yours. The last 3 months of each year (our spring/summer) are usually too busy for true comfort and contentment. Too many appointments and social commitments, and inadequate rest. The colder months are not busy enough. I’m working on improving the balance.
I have a friend who made all kinds of commitments before she actually retired because she could not imagine how she would fill her days. Then over the next year or so, she had to try to extricate herself from many of them.
As always, such wonderful musings you share and, by doing so, give us the gift of our own reflection of life.
I am five years into retirement and I find I still ‘need’ the feeling of a sense of accomplishment {typical type A}. The good news is that sense of accomplishment now comes from the ‘to dos’ of my choosing: a sewing project, making the week’s menu, a new recipe, a piece of art for our Free Little Art Gallery. Similar to you, my Sundays are no longer filled with the angst and planning of what court deadlines were due this week; but, rather, an enjoyable day starting with the snuggle of a cat, a leisurely breakfast and puttering about the house or a day trip.
Owning my own time is an invaluable gift I am grateful for in this chapter of life. May we all enjoy these luxuries in whatever form they take for each of us.
Oh wow… I do not miss Sunday night angst.
I know exactly what you mean. After teaching for nearly 40 years life felt very strange when I first retired. I kept waiting for a phone call from the school to say there was a class waiting for me and there were no piles of marking waiting for attention. For the first two years I did some some relief teaching but finally decide I had done my bit in helping to raise other people’s children as well as my own three. I no longer had to be involved in sport, drama or pastoral care as well as the actual teaching part.
Hubby and I do as we please and can enjoy our peace and quiet – even more so as our children plus seven grandchildren have all moved to Australia. That is the one thing I would change it I could as we miss them all so much. As a fairly self sufficient only child I am quite happy in my own company and ” sometimes I sits and thinks, but mostly I just sits” along with a bit of gardening, knitting, sewing, craft and lots of reading. Retirement is a reward for a busy, productive life perhaps?
Sometimes Hubby and I wonder how we managed to keep so many balls in the air when we were both teaching.
Quiet days…not too many of those around here with rambunctious and excited grand children who live close by. I was just reading a post on IG that had the OP whining that NOBODY gives a thought to the mother of older children that no longer experiences the joy of the holiday through the eyes of young children. My thought was ‘get over yourself, have a holiday mimosa and enjoy the quiet’ but…
I went down the comments rabbit hole and it was sobering the number of women and a few men who live in loneliness.and do not see these days as quiet and peaceful. Not speaking of those ‘sick and shut in’ that have no choice but those who are undergoing a self imposed pity party.
I know many women who lived alone into old age single, widowed and divorced. They were alone by choice when they wanted to be but knew how to gather a group for conversation and drinks. They hosted or were popular guests for holiday meals.
Anyway I do enjoy these quiet times. I’ve earned them but also glad for a little chaos occasionally.
I love a little chaos too. And sometimes miss the chaos of teaching. But those moments are few and getting more and more spaced out. 🙂
It is incredible to think about all of the things that we fit into a day before retirement. Quiet time was so rare when I had a child and worked. Luckily, I had a lot of energy at the time.
Quiet time is so restorative and not wasteful at all. Gazing out at the ducks on the river is a wonderful thing to do. That view would be wasted if not for the appreciation of you and your husband.
It sounds like you have a nice balance between activity and rest.
The day I decided to retire, I’d taught all day, gone into an admin planning meeting at 4:00 which lasted until 6:30, then came home and after dinner was still marking at 10:00. I remember sitting with my head on my desk and yelling to Hubby that I thought it was time for me to choose a retirement date. I did choose that very night, and once I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, I happily went back to my marking for another hour. I didn’t retire for another year, but just knowing my end date helped me enjoy that last year so much more.
The joy of not having to set an alarm clock! I can’t say I really sleep in that much but it is just the feeling of waking when I want and then planning my own schedule for the day and not having it dictated for me!
Oh, I hear you. Sometimes I still wake up at 6:00 and happily roll over and go back to sleep. 🙂
Second row from top, second girl in, with lovely vest. I too treasure quiet time. At 85, I believe I deserve it but still feel guilty if I’m not productive. Hubs and I both enjoy quiet time, love to read and consequently have our own book club as we read the same books. I quite enjoy the birds and “critters” which frequent our very treed home and we are very grateful to still be here and able to look after ourselves, after very busy and stressful occupations. We have a large blended family but even though they are also very busy, they make time for us.
Sounds like you have retirement sussed, Gwen. 🙂
I got back into the classroom at age 40+, after staying home and raising children for many years, and opted to do mainly supply-teaching with an LTO thrown in periodically. The LTO stretches of time reminded me of why supply-teaching worked so well for me — I could decide how busy I wanted to be, my working days ended with the dismissal bell, and there was no Sunday angst. I limited myself to just a couple of schools and was well known by staff and students, so I was not parachuting into an unknown environment on my teaching days.
Over the COVID years, my teaching became more and more sporadic (mostly by choice), and I finally made the decision this fall to pull the plug entirely. When friends and family ask me if I’ve retired, I answer that it feels more like I’ve fizzled.
I’ve always enjoyed quiet days, but now more than ever. When there’s a week (or a month, such as December) with more commitments on my calendar than usual, I start to feel uneasy. (Happily, most of the commitments are positive ones, and I know I’ll enjoy them one by one.)
You’ve reminded me, Denise, of how much we loved our “regulars” on the OT list. 🙂
Oh my! I love the video of the tree shaker!!! 😂
Ha. Me too. 🙂
I had lots of thoughts on your post today. i retired a couple of years ago and have only recently adjusted to not feeling guilty about no longer working in paid employment but i havent got past the level of guilt about sitting down in the middle of the day to read. i am working on it though!
the other part of your post that resonated with me was the idea of going back to your former life. i came to australia from scotland in 1974 and have been back many times but every time its a surreal feeling of time standing still for the world i lived in and only me changing (mainly because the small town i came from never grows and scottish people never seem to age in scotland!)
I sometimes feel like that when I am home in New Brunswick. As if I am having an identity crisis. 🙂
I am late in reading this but wanted to respond and let you know I have been through the same situation, retirement (after 30 yrs of teaching and administration) and had a very difficult time with doing nothing!😊. Several years later, I’m over it, ha ! I enjoy my time doing nothing and with my spouse of over 50 years.
One of my favorite moments is Sunday night, knowing I do not “have” to get up Monday morning! Love our chats ☺️
Thanks, Jes. Sunday night is a joy now, isn’t it?
I really enjoyed this post. I relish my quiet days at home, too. I need a certain amount of them to keep my sanity. I still wrestle with “not doing enough” at times, but I’ve come to see it as a luxury of this stage of life. Our kids are grown, but no grandkids yet, so it’s pretty quiet. I’m a blogger also, although I haven’t written very much in the past year or so. We’ve had so much happening in our lives, but some I don’t feel comfortable writing about yet, or have figured out how to. You’re inspiring me in that way. I still want to write, but unsure of the direction/content.
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