A kind of praise

“Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise.
For envy is a kind of praise.”

John Gay

The day after Kickass Canada Girl and I returned from Provence we had lunch – sitting under the blazing sun outside a surpassingly pleasant country pub in a typically bucolic Surrey village – with my oldest friend and his wife. By ‘oldest’ I actually mean ‘longest serving’, as it were, since he and I have known each other since I was nine and he seven and we were at school together back in the late 60s. I have known his wife for nearly as long – she being the same age as he – and it is one of the apparently inevitable sadnesses of modern life that these days we don’t get to see each other nearly enough.

Without going into detail it is fair to say that my friend and his wife have had a difficult couple of years. Some of the things that have happened to them have been echoed to a degree in both my life and that of the Girl, and as a result our empathy levels are high…

Both the Girl and I felt on this occasion – however – that there was a new-found air of tranquility about them which suited them well. The genesis of this was not difficult to ascertain; Oldest Friend’s wife (who has been Deputy Head of a preparatory school for as long as I can recall) had – shortly before the end of the summer term – taken the apparently un-premeditated decision to retire with immediately effect – or as close to such as can be achieved by those in the teaching profession!

Though it might – under the circumstances – seem inappropriate to feel even a tad envious, I must nervously admit to having briefly experienced that emotion. I am well aware that retirement can bring its own difficulties, and that the transition can be stressful. I have observed first hand examples of those for whom the entire undertaking was an unmitigated disaster. I am also only too aware of current pressures to extend one’s working (though not necessarily productive!) life longer and longer. However…

On the day following the aforementioned lunch the Girl flew to Warsaw on business, where she languishes even as I write. Once again we are restricted to Skyping each other, though at least for now without the eight hour time diference. She will be back in the UK tomorrow and then – after the Bank Holiday weekend – will return once more to Victoria. This time – and it hardly bears thinking about – we will not see each other face to face until November, when we meet in Hong Kong to attend the wedding of some lovely friends of ours. Under the circumstances a little envy may surely be forgiven.

Oldest Friend ventured the opinion – with reference to his wife’s decision – that even when such a course of action has not been seriously considered, one often knows – instinctively and instantly – when the time is right. I absolutely concur with this view. Even though I have to work out this coming academic year I know already that the time has come for me to step away.

I’m done!