Kangaroo

We had a talk about pensions organised by our HR department, billed as ‘moneyfit’. Apparently many of us are ‘kangaroos’ with our money, i.e. go to extreme lengths to avoid paying full price in the supermarket, whilst completely neglecting bigger issues such as avoiding a poverty-stricken retirement.

I will likely retire at 68 in 2050 unless the age increases for accessing a state pension. I won’t get a private pension with my current organisation once I get the right to work properly in Mozambique (despite trying to negotiate this) so whilst it felt ironic to attend something billed as for our ‘financial wellbeing’, it was a good kick up the bum to continue on with the contributions that they have paid whilst I’ve been a UK employee.

My recent wait for some legalised documents from the FCO ended as something arrived in the post. This means I’m another step towards having a visa in my hand, as long as negotiations in the coming days with the Mozambique High Commission don’t throw up any further spanners.

Jack complimented my tan. I let it go to my head somewhat as I then sat in the sun for too long at lunchtime and seemed to acquire a headache.

In the evening I went over to Rachel’s, an old friend. Her daughter, who is 7, asked whether we could play a Spice Girls playlist as we ate our curry. Yes, without question. So we ate daal and munched naan bread whilst singing ‘stop right now thank you very much.’ The sunset was lovely, the humidity high and I cycled back in the rain.

Kangarooing around various emotions and feelings is a good term with which to sum up the day.