I recently found myself in the enviable financial position of just being able to not need to do a 9-5 regular job, so my travel plans are no longer hindered by work commitments. Someone in a group chat rather euphemistically defined my early retirement as “grandma’s cruising into her my post-career era”. Obviously they got removed from the group chat. For reasons. Early retirement has not made me any more tolerant
The circumstances for my slide into early retirement weren’t exactly what I would have chosen. I didn’t win the lottery. Omaze didn’t gift me a £5m house in the countryside. I didn’t get lucky with meme coins or crypto. And I most certainly didn’t get to choose rich parents who left a nice trust fund for me to squander.
No. Like many people, life just dealt me a crappy hand of cards. In my case, this was a combination of sudden, unexpected, brutal widowhood, and a costly job in an industry now being decimated by AI and automation.
You can either choose to play the hand you’re holding, or whinge and cry about the unfairness of the game.
And because my (feisty Scottish) momma didn’t raise no complainers, and I have a passport that I’m not afraid to flash around, here I am. (Also, no one really cares about a whingeing white male 60-year old. But I digress…)
I was lucky enough that my hand of cards came with a silver-lining that many people in my position don’t get given. And a tax-astute financial advisor. So for that, I am grateful.
A few things nobody tells you about solo travel
- It’s liberating. I don’t feel any obligations other than to myself. If I want to spend an entire evening sitting at an outside table in seafront bar sampling tapas and the local wine, wearing a glittery tank top, shorts and flip flops, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. If I want to spend the next night in my hotel room watching trashy documentaries on Netflix whilst guzzling a plate or room-service burger and chips, then so be it. Nomnomnom
- I like own company more than I thought I would. The awkwardness of a solo dinner is entirely imaginary, as I very quickly realised that one really cared who sat with me (or didn’t), only I did . And quite honestly after the first few meals, I didn’t actually care
- It’s bloody expensive. Budgeting is different when you’re travelling solo, particularly Hotels who tend to charge by the room, not the person. With no one to split the accommodation costs with, sleeping can get pricey real quick. Don’t get me started on the “room upgrade” options… I’ve found peace knowing that “garden view, no balcony” is just fine for now.
Getting old is a privilege
Life has taught me that not everyone is lucky enough to get to my age, and I’m buggered if I’m going to waste the fantastic gift of ageing.
This site isn’t my mid-life reinvention story (momma didn’t raise no hippies either!). Rather, it’s just some fairly specific opinions about comfy hotels, descriptions about ok-ish plane journeys, random thoughts about what I like to stuff my face with, and a bunch of unfiltered thoughts about the places I visit.
All from the PoV of a bloke who is now fortunate enough to have the time, the modest pension pot, and the chutzpah to go out there and do stuff in glittery tank tops
Next card please.