Greta Cairus reflects with us. She works within our Drop In Centre.

Retirement! What a word! It implies withdrawing from something, retreating, going into seclusion, solitude, privacy, being reserved in manner, or unobtrusive, oh the list goes on and on. Of course we all know that it mainly means, “to withdraw from office, public life, active life, business, profession etc, etc.” But is this appropriate? Can you seriously say that millions of your senior fellow citizens have withdrawn from life? No way. And speaking for myself, since I have ‘retired’ ten years ago, I now have a freedom from the tyranny of caring what the world thinks, which believe me, you youngsters who are reading this, is invaluable.

How does the arrogant young world see us? White haired wrinklies, a drain on public resources (they must do, for they seem to resent paying us a fair pension), not much money, boring, stuck in a groove (you know the sort of thing - “ it wasn’t like that in my day”) slow drivers hogging the middle of the road, aches and pains, whinging all the time, the sort that when asked “How are you?” tell you in minute detail, who tell you what they said to so and so, and what so and so said to them and so on and so on.

No wonder the young sometimes say ‘ Get a life!’ What they don’t seem to understand is that you change, as you grow older. And what a good thing too!

The things that I was interested in when I was eighteen now bore me silly. When I look back I shudder sometimes. Those photographs I used to rave about Frank Sinatra -no, I didn’t scream exactly but I remember hearing him in the flesh at a Kennedy rally in the Sixties and I decidedly felt weak at the knees. Now well, I occasionally listen about every six months or so! And to party? Well, I remember once the police coming in at the front of the house as I climbed out of a window at the back. Neighbours had complained about the noise and it was 4 am. Now, I’m longing for my nice warm bed by 11 PM.

It is growing my own vegetables now, reading, visiting friends and relations, doing my own thing - not because it is expected of me but because I like doing these things. Each to his own.

I wear jeans - not those tight affairs, you understand, but loosish and comfortable. Down with the crimplene dress, the bedroom slippers, the woolly cardi and tightly permed hair. Put on the lipstick, dye the hair, fluff it out, wear slacks, - aim for the ‘ cool casual look’. Gentlemen, put the tie at the back of the wardrobe, wear opennecked shirts, try trainers (they’re very comfortable, you know) and above all, be active.

Grow old disgracefully, be free, be eccentric, if you want, use the brain (join the O.U.) have fun, laugh at the world. Let’s face it, it is a ridiculous place. It’s a great time to be a pensioner, a senior citizen, an oldie, we of the 3rd age! Strange as it may seem to you, people on the treadmill of work and mortgage envy us our comparative freedom.

There are limitations to this freedom. Health is one. Good health is the most precious gift of all. Even the young find that ill health can dominate their thoughts and prevent them from doing what they want to do. But as long as it is not too severe, the mind is free to wander where it wants, to daydream, to plan for the future and lift one away from bodily ill health, and help in the healing. What is the saying? A healthy mind brings a healthy body.

Wealth, or for the most of us, a lack of wealth can prevent us from going on those cruises, taking glamorous holidays, travelling the world, buying what you want and never mind the price. I know that getting a Railcard, long distance bus pass or going on day trips organised by the local newspaper is not as exciting but they do get us to interesting places we don’t normally visit. Earlier this year I went to Glasgow for the day. Why? Because I’d never been there. So I used a railcard, travelled for one and half-hours and there it was. A beautiful place and I’m only speaking about the railway station.

And we can all afford a flutter on the national lottery, the B & Q over 60 card which gives a 10% Discount on Wednesdays.

One thing I have done - I stopped getting my daily newspaper. The reason was that I was getting depressed and worrying about the state of the world. I keep in touch by listening to the radio and getting the Saturday paper. Try it! You may have withdrawal symptoms at first, but suddenly the world will seem a nicer place.

Loneliness is difficult to deal with - whatever the cause. Bereavement, friends or family, moving away, being marooned in a high rise flat, all or one of them can be ‘facers’. The worst thing to do is to dwell on it too long. Just do something about it. Volunteer for something, get a pet! see the housing dept. for a transfer to more suitable accommodation (near a bus stop), get out and about.

Those pictures of mugged elderly, living on their own don’t help but don’t allow yourself to be a prisoner in your own home. (See what I mean about the press?) If you are worried, let someone know - the social services, Help the Aged, the Salvation Army, your vicar or local parish priest, or even your neighbour. People willing to help are everywhere. Why not become a person willing to help? Form a small self help group locally.

I was lonely so I volunteered to cook once a week for T.H.O.M.A.S. Perhaps you’d like to join me? This may not be your cup of tea - you may prefer to work in charity shops or other organisations. Believe you me - you’ll meet lots of people and make lots of new friends, most in the same situation you are in. So give it a go - it’s fun!

“Where’s there’s life, there’s hope.” Is the saying. Should it not be, “where’s there’s hope, there’s life?” while I’m still reasonably fit, I hope to travel, funds permitting!

I’ve made a list of all the things that I’d like to do, and although it will not always match with the things I’m able to do, it gives me a horizon. Something to aim for.

My most exotic, top of the list thing I’d like to do is to sail for South America (or perhaps round the world) under canvas. I have a vision of me hauling in ropes and singing sea shanties. I can’t quite make up my mind between that scenario and this one. - I’m drinking martini’s in the gathering dusk on a boat in the lee of the South Sea Island listening to Bach quartets on the BBC World Service. We are moored in a lagoon and the boat gently rocks to the tide, and this very cultured voice on the radio says - “This is London”. Of course, I shall come back every Friday for the cooking!