The other half, the better half or old mate — however you identify my dearly beloved — had a small operation the other day on her right hand, which she normally uses for everything.

Now I mean everything and I was engaged to do everything for her except for one thing which I begged her to use her other hand for that job which luckily for me she was successful.

Recently I wrote about being in lockdown which was a window I looked into for retirement and didn’t much like the view. Following up with being the right hand of the boss of me was another reminder in retirement I will need a hobby, one that gets some distance between us on a semi regular basis (well let’s go for regular).

The night before I wrote this column I was pondering how much I would delve into being the right hand when I heard a reverse beeper in the driveway which was Click, Pick and Pay Woolies truck delivering to the new neighbours which made me think about old mate’s version of Pick, Click and Pay last week.

She clicks, or in fact points, her fingers of her left hand, I pick and pay. Great system, she doesn’t need the click and delivery while I am still kicking. I tried to talk her into letting me go by myself but got a roll of her eyes and a ‘By the time I explain it all to you, take pictures it will be easier to both go, at least I know what to do’.

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As painful as that trip to Woolies was for both of us, I still learnt more about old mate. Like she picks everything she needs for her flock of birds whether on special or not. But everything else has to be on special especially if it’s something I want. The Arnott’s biscuits aisle didn’t have one bloody special ticket in sight, so no biscuits for the fat boy.

We painfully got through the list; the looking, the checking what weight or metric volume, expiry date versus price — wow.

We ended up at the deli and she headed straight for the prime grain-fed wagyu beef, not on special. She didn’t even ask how much a kilo, just ordered it and I picked it up in its own special brown bag.

As I fondled the beautiful lump of meat I thought finally something I like. It must be the way I was looking at it because she says, ‘George will like that’. Alas, it was for the kelpie-cross.

Another window for retirement and another bracing view of what’s to come.