The Age of Unreason

Exile in Eastern Europe on a budget

Pensioner. Even the word sounds old, conjuring up from my childhood images of grey-haired people struggling to stay upright on walking sticks.

Yet here I am. On November 5th, I turned 66 and, having paid full National Insurance contributions, will be receiving my State Pension sometime in December. I am pitifully grateful for the £221.20 a week that will soon be coming my way. When once I was thrilled at a monthly pay cheque that enabled me to live extremely well, now I eagerly wait for this meagre addition to my already diminished coffers.

Gone is the six bedroom detached house I once had in a smart area of Cardiff. Gone is the two bedroom apartment I had overlooking the Mediterranean in Spain’s Puerto Banus. The rugby hospitality box in Cardiff, the front row halfway line tickets for rugby internationals at the Principality Stadium, the Virgin Atlantic Upper Class flights back and forth to the USA, the Manhattan apartment with a direct view over the Hudson River – all gone.

I’m thinking about it all as I sit at a bar with my 2.50€ glass of wine on the coast of Sarande – in Albania. I’m here because it’s the only place I can afford at the moment, and I’m staying in an Airbnb that costs me 20€ a night.

The simple truth is this: I can no longer afford to live in the UK.