Open Writing

Compo, Foggy and Clegg, what would our world be without them?
Even the “high-browed” amongst us, though feigning “never to
watch the programme,” as they do with “Coro’ Street'', seem to
know their names and their antics.

And who, even down here in the Antipodes, doesn’t know about Holmfirth in West Yorkshire, in some ways, as well known as London.

What is it which makes this series so popular? The clever writers have found the child in us who never grows up, the
Peter Pan, and Compo, Foggy and Clegg are not unique to
Holmfirth.

Retirement is where it all starts. It comes to all of us at
sometime, men and women alike. We women have the edge over you
men, our paid work might cease but the unpaid stuff still goes
on. We have the general routine of cooking, cleaning, washing,
we nurture our gardens and make new curtains etc.

We are, by nature, gregarious folk; we run cleaning rosters at church, arrange flowers, visit lonely and sick people, dliver “meals
on wheels” and other “little jobs.”

Men however get that slightly lost look. They have retired from their life’s work. Their important roles as pillars of
society, be it doctor, dentist, lawyer, chemist, plumber or
painter, in fact, no matter what career they have pursued, it
is finished.

It was of infinitely more worth than the “little wife’s,” even if she had been a high court judge, at least
they think so, but “times they are a changing.” Their world is
at an end. They are ships adrift at sea.

And so these poor old men are let out onto this ocean of
freedom with nothing to do. They have a list of “gunnas''.
“Gunna’ paint the house.” “Gunna’ fix the gutters,” etc. But
eventually the list comes to an end and they sit and twiddle
their fingers.

Next thing in their mind, the “Overseas Trip.” Round the
world, see the pyramids, look at Matchu Pitchu and such. But
the Superann. will only allow one or two such jaunts, and
finally they have to admit “this is it.”

Then real retirement sets in and the Foggies, Cleggs and
Compos emerge. For a while appearances are kept up. Then the
highly polished shoes, collars and ties, start to slip, first
just round the house, then it is too much trouble to change to
go down the town. Sloppy shorts, track shoes and polo shirts,
which have seen better days, become the norm.

They hang around street corners, sit on benches or go for walks with others of their ilk. Slowly they begin to realise their hidden potentials, one takes up water colours and writes music, another delves deeper into nuclear physics and does research, and yet another, builds, painstakingly accurate, models of ships, from his own plans.

They group together as a threesome, become engrossed in their new found talents and wander about discussing them,
supporting each other. In short, like three little boys, they
go out to play.

Meanwhile, their wives, in true Nora Batty fashion, keep up standards and occasionally bring them back into line.

This is what retirement is all about, doing what you have
always secretly wanted to do, not what you have to do. Of
course you have your commitments to your fellow man and you
smarten yourself up for special occasions, going to the
doctor, seeing the bank manager and church etc. You find
yourself going to more funerals than weddings, but, strangely,
they don’t worry you as much, and you know every one there.

The Third Age, we call it. A time to do what we want, to learn
about the things we have always wanted to but never had the
time to pursue. The Nora Battys take out their curlers and
don’t spend their time scrubbing steps, instead they study the
history of their area, read psychology, take up potting or
learn another language. They might even write a book.

We can become enthusiastic about things and, if we are lucky enough
to have a U3A branch near us, we can join it.

In short, this precious time retirement, is to be enjoyed in a
relaxed way. We don’t have to impress anyone, we have got over
the awkwardness of youth and the worries of mortgages and
educating children. This is our time and, as the writers of
The Last of the Summer Wine portray so succinctly, we can
revert to the child in us and do what we want.