March 2024 – Back on the road again

My partner in travelling reached 66 years of age recently. He is fortunate to get his state pension at this age, along with his workplace pensions and his bus pass! This birthday was a huge milestone for us on our journey from being economically inactive to becoming pensioners.

When we both stopped working the nine to five in 2017 we had little income to speak of. What we did have was a spreadsheet [of course] with nine columns, one for each year until 2025. The spreadsheet forecast how much of our savings we would need to spend every year so that we could pay the bills and live our lives. We reviewed it regularly in the light of the actual amount we had spent and how much I had managed to earn as a travel writer. Every year on the 31 December I cheerfully deleted the column for the year that had ended. As our pensions have crept closer the trusty spreadsheet has diminished.

I met an old friend I hadn’t seen for a few years recently and she asked me, ‘Did the spreadsheet work?’ Her question made me smile; feel grateful that she had remembered all those conversations about early retirement we had; and also stop and think before I answered her. I realised, yes, the spreadsheet had worked and so much better than I might have hoped.

The spreadsheet started life in 2011 and until 2017 was used to track how much more money we needed to save until we could afford to retire. As the pennies became pounds the amount we needed before we could stop work got smaller.

From 2017 the spreadsheet’s use changed and a new section was added for cashflow, so that we never tied up any money long-term that we needed as our ‘income’ in the short-term. In constant use, the spreadsheet keeps us on track month by month as the details of our spending [mostly in our control and predictable] and income [unpredictable until my small NHS pension arrived in 2020] were updated. This enabled us to see at almost a glance what fiscal flexibility we had every year. Without this information, making financial decisions that were outside our budget would have been more difficult. In particular, the spreadsheet informed our decision to move house in 2019 [something we hadn’t planned for in 2017]. The spreadsheet has been our companion on our journey, growing and evolving as our life has changed, always helpful, sometimes accommodating and never draconian.

It has held my hand for so long, I have realised I will miss this spreadsheet when all the columns have been deleted in two years time. In 2026 all our pensions will have matured, I will also have a bus pass and we will have two fairly predictable incomes once again. Although we won’t be part of the workforce it will feel like we have gone back in time to the days of straightforward fixed incomes. Making sure our expenditure stays within budget will be managed by a different [and even older] spreadsheet!

I never guessed I was the sort of person who would become sentimental about a spreadsheet. Maybe it isn’t surprising when I consider how much it is a symbol of the big step we made in giving up our jobs in 2017. I think maybe my old friend would understand my emotions and I hope you readers do too.

After exploring the southern shores of the Solway, driving into Scotland our first stop was the Old Blacksmith’s Shop in Gretna Green. Having traditionally been a haven for young people keen to marry, today it has handed itself completely over to romance and retail. The courtship maze, the wall of love padlocks and a sculpture called The Big Dance with two hands clasped together to form an arch all thawed my heart on a wintery morning!

We had been blessed with fine weather on the English part of this trip but now rain hammered on the roof of our campervan as we pulled into the nearby Devil’s Porridge Museum. This bizarrely-named museum tells the story of the huge Gretna Green site that produced cordite during World War One. Thousands worked here in hazardous conditions and we heard their stories while the rain pounded noisily on the museum roof. In the local history areas I was fascinated to read about the State Management Scheme for brewing and pubs which began in wartime but continued into the 1970s. This massive experiment aimed to change the drinking culture and reduce drunkenness. State-owned pubs sold weak beer along with food, forbade the buying of rounds and encouraged games such as dominoes and darts.

The wet and windy weather followed us along the northern Solway coast to The Wildfowl and Wetland Trust’s Caerlaverock reserve. One of the many things I like about having a ‘van is that you can see over hedges and walls and I pointed out groups of geese feeding in the fields as Anthony drove. We were just in time for Caerlaverock’s daily swan feeding and from the hide watched the multitude of swans boisterously squabbling over shovelfuls of food.

For the next couple of nights we had an enviable pitch at Queensberry Bay Leisure Park, with an unobstructed view over the Solway Firth and acres of sky. Watching the birds feeding on the mud, fishing boats leaving Annan harbour and the changing light of sunrises and sunsets could all be done from our snug campervan while the rain pattered on our tin roof. When we needed to stretch our legs, the campsite bar had the same spectacular view that was perfect for a lazy morning coffee with yesterday’s papers and evening beers.

When the rain eased we walked along quiet lanes finding small moments of joy when we disturbed hares in a field, picked out lapwing calls and found more cheerful clumps of flowering snowdrops. On Powfoot Beach the remains of wooden piers were draped in shimmering seaweed and an old circular bathing pool that was part of an early 20^th century plan to develop this quiet stretch of coast into a holiday resort intrigued us.

Even in winter some good weather is never too far away and we wandered around the ruins and pretty village at Sweetheart Abbey in sunshine the next day. The impressive lighthouse at Southerness was an idyllic beach combing and rockpooling spot and at Sandyhills Bay we kicked along the soft sand with views across the Solway. This Dumfries coast is packed with pretty coves and bays, craggy cliffs and charming villages.

On a sheltered inlet with a picturesque outlook, Kippford is delightful. It was low tide and we could crunch our way along the shell-strewn tidal causeway to Rough Island that sits in a sheltered estuary off the Solway Firth. A narrow path climbed from the causeway through bushes to the grassy high point of the island and rewarded us with spectacular views across the water to clusters of white cottages on tree-covered hillsides.

In the evening we were treated to a stunning sunset from the campsite above Kirkcudbright while cozily drinking tea in our ‘van. Less enjoyable were the strong winds that rocked the ‘van alarmingly in the small hours and disturbed my sleep!

The storm passed over and the sun returned the next day as we explored the handsome town of Kirkcudbright. Sitting on the River Dee that flows into the Solway Firth, Kirkcudbright is a vibrant and lively town with something for everyone. We strolled around the castle and along the harbour with colourful fishing boats and admired the houses painted in pastel shades. We picked out two of the three museums and just one café to visit. Later we hiked to Kirkcudbright Bay, returning to the campsite on inland lanes that wound uphill and descended on woodland paths.

Our campervan trip under the big skies of the Solway Firth had delivered light of every shade from blue skies to gun-metal grey stormy clouds and deep-red sunsets. As we drove home I suggested to Anthony that campervan trips should be available on the NHS because there was no doubt I now felt refreshed, upbeat and ready to ride out the remaining winter days.

The pictures below show Rough Island, the swans at Caerlaverock and a Dumfries beach.