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Everyone knew him as Rusty.  Few realised his name was Ernest.  Everyone knew him as Rusty.  Few realised, in these days, why this was.

 

He had worked there since leaving school.  It was a time that only the supremely intelligent or the supremely rich would stay on at school and Rusty had not known anyone to go to university.

 

But that was years ago. His former fervour had been diminished over the years.  Rusty had always been good at Maths and had worked in their finance department all his working life.  How long had he been counting?  All his life – but the past three years he was not balancing the books.  He was counting down until his retirement.

 

He could not wait.

 

Every morning he looked at himself in the mirror, at the white-haired man he had become.

 

Inside, he still had dreams of his youth.

 

*

**

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Rusty had it all planned.  Some people anticipate retirement as time to spend with family – children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.  Rusty did love his family.  His son had followed him into the company.  Rusty was unsure what would happen to Thomas in later life anymore.  Thomas would certainly not work in one job forever like Rusty had and, as much as he worried for Thomas’ welfare, inside he knew he was glad.

 

*

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Rusty had a list of what he wanted to do in his retirement.  He counted the days and, in those remaining days, he made his plans.  His colleagues knew this, not just because he was off the ball in his work (they expected this) but because, after all these years, Rusty talked about himself, and about what he liked.

 

In all those years Rusty had rarely talked about himself. 

 

It was not the way he was brought up.  Men did not talk about themselves and, effectively he had been brought up in the company.  But now, at last, he was leaving the company behind and suddenly the quiet man spoke endlessly of what he was going to do in his retirement.

 

 

 

Rusty’s Plans

 

Fishing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sitting alone for hours was, for Rusty, idyllic.  Never having to see anyone, never having to talk to anyone.  Just himself and nature.  It was a pastime, next year it would become a regular feature of his life, his new life.

 

His aspirations were not to provide food for the plate, he simply wanted to enjoy the experience – a solitary experience.  He would throw all his catches back into the river.

 

 

 

 

Home Brew

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rusty enjoyed a beer.  He thought he had a taste for it, a palate so to speak.  In the past he had made Elderflower wine.  His colleagues had enjoyed his samples.  They often fell asleep after enjoying his samples.  Despite this Rusty’s favourite tipple was real ale.

 

When he retired, Rusty would make his own brew – he would name it after his son – ‘Tom’s Tipple’ – corny he knew.  Rusty could almost taste it.  He had precision in his life.  His working life was numbers, and that was why he enjoyed the precision of making home brew – the calculations that needed to be made and the allocation of time.

 

And soon he would have time.

 

 

 

 

Reading

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everyone said that people should read War and Peace before they died.  Rusty didn’t particularly like reading except for the local rag and that was just for the sport because Rusty liked sport.  Football and horse-racing were his choices.  The lads in the pub turned to him for tips on the horses and he gladly gave his advice.  It was usually good advice too.  So, they returned with requests time and time again – and time and time again he delivered. 

 

Rusty place only one bet himself a year on the Grand National.

 

He never won.

 

Betting was a mug’s game.

 

However, as the time of his retirement was approaching Rusty had decided to broaden his horizons. 

 

He would take the time to read.

 

Rusty visited his local library for the first time ever.  It was crowded with people which surprised him but most of all it was crowded with children and suddenly Rusty felt out of his depth and started to turn away.  The lady was helpful and kind when he explained that he had never borrowed a book before.

 

He borrowed War and Peace and it sat on his beside cabinet, waiting for his retirement, waiting to be read.

 

 

 

Walking

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Throughout his working life, Rusty walked from his home in Sittingbourne to the station and from Victoria to the office.  He repeated the journey in reverse every evening.  He did this for forty-nine years.  Rusty started his journeys when he was sixteen and now, he was due to finish them when he was sixty-five and retired.

 

When he was sixty-five, he intended to do some real walking and discover his native Kent.  He had in mind Whitstable, Herne Bay and, when he got his fitness up, further afield to Margate and Ramsgate where he had visited on childhood holidays.  Kent was the garden of England and he wanted to explore it.  He wanted to explore his home.

 

Rusty had never travelled far.

 

 

 

Football

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They were a non-league club and the players usually had other jobs to maintain and sustain their lives and their families.  They had to.  They were not paid enough to go full-time and, if truth be known, they usually did not have the talent.

 

Rusty knew that they had the commitment to play the beautiful game.  Upon his impending retirement Rusty dreamed of attending every match, home and away.  He had never really travelled and some of the fixtures were not particularly glamourous.  Rusty had always dreamed of travelling to far away places.  He realised that the time for that had passed but, in this small way, he knew that soon he would have the opportunity to explore new territories.

 

*

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When Rusty left the building for the last time, he had no regrets.  He put his tie in his briefcase and swore that after 49 years he would never wear a tie again.

 

He walked spritelier to Victoria than he ever had.  Rusty was 65 and had enjoyed the last few drinks with his colleagues that day, drinking more than usual – but who was to complain?

 

He fell asleep on the train.

 

*

**

 

The train passengers were always the same, doing the same journey, reading the same newspapers the same crosswords.  They had endlessly heard Rusty’s plans for his future.  He had bored them silly, if truth be known

 

Today, they were amused by his drunken state.

 

*

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At Sittingbourne they couldn’t rouse him.

 

*

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Rusty never woke from his sleep.

 

*

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An outstanding reminder from the library arrived the next day.

 

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