I don’t normally write two blogs in a row in any one section of the Heydays website, but several things have happened in the last week that have meant I really feel the need to revisit this topic. One of them is a bit ranty, so don’t say you haven’t been warned. The others are far more feel-good, so it’s not going to be grumpy going all the way, I promise.

I do want to kick off with the testy one though, because it’s the main trigger for this return to a subject I’ve written about in many different ways since launching Heydays. It happened on one of my glorious early morning swims in the heavenly ladies pond on Hampstead Heath. Or rather, to be more precise, as I was waiting to get into the entrance. When the two women ahead of me got to the front of the queue, the woman in the kiosk asked if either of them was over 60 (entrance is free to anyone of that age until after 0930). One of them turned to her friend and with a combination of laughter and horror declared “I would NEVER admit to being over 60, even if I was! And even if it meant I could get in for free!” Her friend laughed in response as they both paid to go in.

In all honesty, it’s taken me a while to properly digest my feelings about that exchange. My initial reaction was a pulse-racing combination of feeling shocked and appalled. How dare she be so casually and vocally dismissive and derogatory. What exactly does she think is so unwelcome and distasteful about reaching your seventh decade? Does she imagine that once you leave your fifties you topple into some kind of pit of irrelevance, invisibility and decrepitude? I was seething.

And…..breathe…..

Swimming in the refreshing water and immersing myself in the soothing sights and sounds of nature, in and around the pond (the resident heron not only put in an appearance, but flew over, just feet from my head looking practically prehistoric in all his aerial splendour), I found myself wondering, more despairingly than anything, how it is that, in spite of all the progress that has ostensively been made in changing the conversation around ageing, people - and let’s be frank, the sort of people who swim in the pond are generally middle class, well educated and worldly - can still hold such stubbornly negative views about getting older.

Never mind that we are, slowly, slowly, seeing more realistic and encouraging imagery and representation of older people. Never mind that there are older women and men appearing on catwalks alongside at least some less-than-insanely-gaunt fellow models. Never mind that the over-fifties have been recognised as an invaluable, and disgracefully overlooked, cohort in the workplace and are being actively encouraged to stay, or return to it. It seems there are still people, and possibly plenty of them, who see those of us in our sixties, and God forbid older, as being in our decrepit dotage.

Just two things to say

I’ll just say two things about why I find this is so deeply disappointing and distasteful. The first is that with a population, not just here in the UK, but around the world, that has a larger percentage of people in it over 60 than at any time in history (23% here, to be precise), and with that figure set to grow (between 2015 and 2020 the proportion of the world’s population over 60 will nearly double from 12% to 22%), we really, really need to address and combat the negative connotations and conversations around ageing, and see it as a time of opportunity, growth, contribution - to our families, our communities and society - and enjoyment. Which is exactly what I created These Are The Heydays to show and celebrate.

I’m writing this on the seventh anniversary of the death of my husband, only three months after his 60th birthday, so the other thing I want to say is very simple and deeply heartfelt. Being over 60 absolutely beats the alternative. I have lost enough people I love not to feel that every year, indeed every day, I am lucky enough to still be here, to feel the warm sun and the cool water on my skin, to see the reflected ripples of sunlight dancing through the leaves dangling over the pond’s edge, to share in the contented sisterhood of my fellow swimmers, and to return to the home and the family I cherish, restored and renewed, is something to be treasured, not trashed.

Here’s the positive stuff

Rant over, I’ll share with you the other two things I came across that have kept the topic of ageing - and particularly ageing positively - at the forefront of my mind.

The first was a reminder from a colleague about a co-housing community for older women not far from where I live. The first of its kind in this country, New Ground was founded by a determined, visionary group of women (it took 18 years to turn their idea into a reality) who wanted to create an alternative to living alone as they aged. I’d read about this purpose-built development which was founded, and is managed and run, by the residents, several times before. Each of the women has their own flat overlooking a well-tended garden, and there are communal areas where they can come together for meals and shared activities and entertainment.

Here’s the recent piece about it in The Guardian that my colleague shared with me. I’m fairly sure I don’t need to say what a fantastic idea I think this is - but I will anyway. Not so much because it’s just for women (they do explain in the piece why they chose to make it that way, and they’re certainly more than welcoming to male visitors), but because it offers such a positive and optimistic vision of what life like can be like as you age, and what can be achieved if we learn from successful examples elsewhere (one of the original founders came across the idea on a research trip in the Netherlands.)

New Ground’s oldest resident, 94 year old Heidi, reading on her sunny balcony

It seems the Scandinavians do ageing far better all round than we do. Something that was highlighted in a piece by Alice Thompson in The Times this week. (You can read it HERE, if you’re a Times subscriber. Sadly it’s behind a paywall if you’re not.) The jist of it is that in Sweden, not only do people set aside a year after they leave their full time working lives to declutter, downsize and re-prioritise - they call it dostadning, or death cleaning - many of them then go to agencies specifically set up to help older people find new jobs (Sweden has the second highest proportion of 55-64 year olds in employment after Iceland, at nearly 83%, and one of the highest proportions of 65-75 year olds in work at more than 20%.)

The sort of jobs they do might seem menial - Alice writes about a former university lecturer who sells train tickets at the city’s main railway station two days a week, as much for the human contact as for the income - but she explains that not only is there’s no stigma attached to taking on jobs such as drivers, waiters or painters (she cites a former chief executive who now works shifts with a refuse truck company), but rather a wide recognition that at this stage in their lives, work is about fulfilment rather than status.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all find, and if necessary create, ways to live our older lives in as positive, productive, enjoyable and content ways as possible. And make ageing something to embrace and celebrate rather than be afraid to face.

I’d love to know what you think.