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I'm not missing working one bit, even though some people would think it was a bit like killing the golden goose, you know, prime earning years and all that. I just think that between the age of 50 and 60 should be the prime living years, and with luck, way past that if I master these local walking hills and trails (once I find my boots).

The downward spiral of my mum and dad following my brothers death was so quick, so rapid that it underlined how fragile we all will be at some point. I'm not being morbid about it, but we all really need to make the most of it all.

I've no fear of "going too soon" or "premature ejection" as we like to call it.

In the last three or four days I've started to "get it" or what this retirement thing means, and well, Friday was a good example. Woke at 9.00am, had a coffee and then put a kitchen blind up, then put a bedroom blind up. We'd been over on the ferry to North Vancouver on the Thursday, zoomed around big box stores, took a big fat lunch at a brewpub and caught the late, pitch black ferry back. Fresh air and complete darkness, the hum of the ferry engines and the smell of the sea.

Friday, was a case of install them blinds mister, then as it was cracking the flags, we went off down the road for a walk, the Antique place at the bottom of our road was open and they had an awesome oak desk for my wifes room, so, we bought it and me and the antiques guy hauled it up to the house, he turned out to be the brother of the lady who lived in this house and he knew the guy who built the house, that's the sort of community this is.

So, then, after struggling up the stairs and installing the desk the Weldons went off on our walk again, down the road to Molly's Reach with lots of waterfront action, boats and tugs running backwards and forwards, we took some pix, then walked back up the hill to what has fast become our home.

After about an hour or so, we walked back down to Gramma's pub at the harbour in Gibsons, on the way down we saw a wild deer, a buck, in someones front yard about seven feet away, he looked at the pair of us and then went on with his business, unhurried.

At the pub we had a dozen 40c wings and a couple of cheap jugs of microbrew beer "Howe Sound Landing Lager" and then grabbed a bottle of wine at the off-sales on the way home, walking up the hill with thousands of stars and then back home, with new blinds, a warm house with a log in the fireplace and glasses of wine.

It was a good Friday.