So here we are. Retirement. The golden years. The long-awaited chance to do all those things you said you’d do when you had time. Finally, the opportunity to learn Italian, write your memoirs, or perfect your sourdough starter. And yet, somehow, your most pressing decision today is whether to bother putting on trousers.

I didn’t set out to write a retirement guide. If anything, I hoped to avoid the subject entirely – preferably by staying employed until I quietly expired at my desk with a Pret sandwich halfway to my mouth. But the bastards keep sending reminders. Pensions this, tax-free lump sum that. Even the cat looks at me differently now, as if wondering how many more paydays I’ve got in me.

This book isn’t for the life-optimised go-getters who already own a villa in Portugal and use “fire” as a verb. It’s for the rest of us. The slightly bewildered, mildly exhausted, occasionally terrified majority who are just trying to make sense of what comes next.

Think of it as a survival manual for the semi-defeated. A guide to finding joy, meaning, and possibly even purpose in a world that no longer expects anything from you – except perhaps to keep your opinions about the young to yourself.

You’ve worked hard. You’ve put in the years. You’ve endured meetings, commutes, and office biscuits that tasted of cardboard. Now comes the reward. Allegedly.

Let’s see how that goes, shall we?