We invited you to unleash your creativity and capture the essence of ageing in its most joyful forms. What a treasure trove of responses we received! This year, in the poetry competition, our judges chose two joint winners, along with three highly commended judges choices.
Some of the themes that emerged were the joy that nature brings, the joy of having time to spend pursuing leisure activities, or spending time with grandchildren. These themes are reflected in the pieces chosen by our art and multimedia judges.
You can see the winning entries in full below, and find out more about the winning poets and artists. We hope you enjoy them as much as we do!
Some of the themes that emerged were the joy that nature brings, the joy of having time to spend pursuing leisure activities, or spending time with grandchildren. These themes are reflected in the pieces chosen by our art and multimedia judges.
You can see the winning entries in full below, and find out more about the winning poets and artists. We hope you enjoy them as much as we do!
POETRY WINNERS
The joint winning poems are "Always Revert to the Navy" by Ali Mitchell and "No Rush (The joy of being retired)" by Ruth Eardley. Presented here in alphabetical order.
Always Revert to the Navy
by Ali Mitchell
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You should always revert to the navy as the safest of colours to choose
It’s the shade with provision for every event and the best on the spectrum of blues There’s a calm resignation in navy to a fate inescapable too Which appeals to the oldies amongst us, makes you feel like you’re part of the crew When life’s course has proved lengthy and stormy, as good memories retract and then fade And you’re clinging to what provides safety, jump aboard with the navy brigade At least that’s what Gran always told me and I always believed what she said But, a gran now myself, I’m rebelling (yet her words echo still in my head) Though I miss you, dear Gran, that’s a given, and your wisdom has mostly prevailed When it comes down to navy and ageing, that old ship well and truly has sailed Lovely Gran, you missed out on rebellion and were never allowed to let rip But my mutinous will has determined to vow that I’m not going down with that ship So I can’t get on board with your wisdom, due to things that still haunt me from school Like compulsory wearing of big navy pants, young or old those were clearly not cool I rejoice in the colours of nature and delight in exploring what’s new With a spring in my step borne of freedom, now retired there’s just so much to do We old folks can now dress like the young ones without fear of chastisement or scorn Outward signs of the soul’s liberation like the joy felt from being reborn Let free spirits join forces together never caring what others might think As we strut down the street in our casual gear, denim trousers and hair glowing pink So what else can I say about navy that has not yet already been said? Just that steering your own course through ageing always stands you in jolly good stead Overboard with outdated traditions, being tarred with the age brush too soon I’ll revert back to navy when science disproves that marine tides are ruled by the moon |
About Ali
I’m a retired administrator, having worked mostly in local newspapers and a national children’s charity, alongside various other charity volunteer roles and many years of service as a deacon and church secretary in my former local family Baptist church. I am blessed with two sons and one daughter. And a rescue cat. Until recently most of my life was lived in a village close to Haworth, so the Bronte sisters’ remarkable literary legend was always fresh in my mind. At college I studied modern European languages. I have a passion for language and love playing with words. After retiring I began writing verse aimed at children and hope one day to be able to publish. Currently I facilitate my local library’s writers group, where we encourage and inspire one another by sharing and discussing our individual written work. |
Judges Comments
Dave Bilbrough writes:
It was Oscar Wilde, who is attributed to have remarked, ‘Be yourself, everyone else is taken’. This poem by Ali Mitchell so wonderfully uses the metaphor of the uniformity of the colour navy, contrasting it with the possibilities of living with a wider palate of colour, boldness and adventure. Here lies a valuable lesson to us all. One which growing older challenges us to rethink our perspective and to resist the fear of being out of step with others. Many of us tend to grow rigid and opinionated with age but Ali, through this poem, encourages us to be flexible and live life to the full. This one, got my vote for being both clever and original.
Andrew Pratt writes:
When I first read ‘Always revert to the navy’ I was initially lulled into an expectation that I knew just where this was going. The poem was very well written, so that was good. It was enough to hold my attention and keep me reading. I was anticipating ‘purple’. When someone has written such a familiar piece as ‘When I am an old woman I shall wear purple’, following in the same direction not only runs the risks of plagiarism and predictability, but of poor thought, lacking originality. The number of hymns I’ve been asked to critique that
begin ‘Love divine’ or poems, ‘I wandered lonely…’ is legion. I was prepared for disappointment. Yet I read on. You had caught me. I wanted to know how you would get yourself off the hook.
Then that line ’When it comes down to navy and ageing, that old ship well and truly has sailed…’ caused an abrupt tack of direction, sailing into new waters and I found myself chuckling and physically guffawing. I was hooked on a text of originality and genius that could have sunk without trace. But even now the tides still turn and the moon still rules. Thank you for this breath of fun and joy.
Pam Rhodes writes:
Well done Alison - what a clever and witty reflection on how we’re meant to behave throughout our lives, especially at the age when we’re supposed to know better! Our hair may be thinner, our waistlines wider and our faces a roadmap of wrinkles – but inside I don’t think we change much at all, however many birthdays we’ve had. We go through so many life stages in which we’re expected to conform, from those navy knickers we hated to wear at school to the conservative business clothes we’ve probably worn for decades of work days. So, this witty poem that encourages us, in our most grown up years, to rebel against blandness and choose the freedom of flamboyance, is a breath of fresh air. Begone dull navy! I’m digging out my feather boa and a big red hat!
It was Oscar Wilde, who is attributed to have remarked, ‘Be yourself, everyone else is taken’. This poem by Ali Mitchell so wonderfully uses the metaphor of the uniformity of the colour navy, contrasting it with the possibilities of living with a wider palate of colour, boldness and adventure. Here lies a valuable lesson to us all. One which growing older challenges us to rethink our perspective and to resist the fear of being out of step with others. Many of us tend to grow rigid and opinionated with age but Ali, through this poem, encourages us to be flexible and live life to the full. This one, got my vote for being both clever and original.
Andrew Pratt writes:
When I first read ‘Always revert to the navy’ I was initially lulled into an expectation that I knew just where this was going. The poem was very well written, so that was good. It was enough to hold my attention and keep me reading. I was anticipating ‘purple’. When someone has written such a familiar piece as ‘When I am an old woman I shall wear purple’, following in the same direction not only runs the risks of plagiarism and predictability, but of poor thought, lacking originality. The number of hymns I’ve been asked to critique that
begin ‘Love divine’ or poems, ‘I wandered lonely…’ is legion. I was prepared for disappointment. Yet I read on. You had caught me. I wanted to know how you would get yourself off the hook.
Then that line ’When it comes down to navy and ageing, that old ship well and truly has sailed…’ caused an abrupt tack of direction, sailing into new waters and I found myself chuckling and physically guffawing. I was hooked on a text of originality and genius that could have sunk without trace. But even now the tides still turn and the moon still rules. Thank you for this breath of fun and joy.
Pam Rhodes writes:
Well done Alison - what a clever and witty reflection on how we’re meant to behave throughout our lives, especially at the age when we’re supposed to know better! Our hair may be thinner, our waistlines wider and our faces a roadmap of wrinkles – but inside I don’t think we change much at all, however many birthdays we’ve had. We go through so many life stages in which we’re expected to conform, from those navy knickers we hated to wear at school to the conservative business clothes we’ve probably worn for decades of work days. So, this witty poem that encourages us, in our most grown up years, to rebel against blandness and choose the freedom of flamboyance, is a breath of fresh air. Begone dull navy! I’m digging out my feather boa and a big red hat!
No Rush
by Ruth Eardley
About Ruth
Ruth was an NHS doctor for forty years, mostly a GP in Market Harborough, Leicestershire. A clinical tutor at Leicester Medical School, she appeared on the University’s ‘multi-faith panel’ (where students put questions to doctors of different religions). She has a special interest in medical ethics and writes for medical magazines, devotionals and for the Christian Medical Fellowship. She also wrote a ‘Dear Doctor’ newspaper column for many years. Ruth writes: As a young teenager I remember a Physics class where we studied optics and the structure of the eye. This convinced me of two things – one, that there was no way such a complex system could have evolved (and maybe there really was a God) and two, I was going to be an eye surgeon. I later did a job in Ophthalmology which was great but I ended up in General Practice because I loved all the other specialities too! Faith in Jesus has been the bedrock of my life: it enables me to identify with people and value them. It also gives me hope because God can transform any situation: I would often pray for patients and colleagues on the way home from work. My poem highlights a true story – a home visit when I was supposed to be back at the surgery. I still grieve when I think of that interaction. The joy of retirement is the privilege of having time for people and being rid of ten minute appointments. |
A dying woman, too young at fifty nine
And yet I was so conscious of the time. (Afternoon surgery starts at three) 'I'm sorry to keep you here,' said she She saw me glance at the watch on my sleeve 'If you could just sort out my pain relief.' Medicine today is a ten minute quiz With 'does it hurt here?' and 'can you feel this?' And 'I'm sorry we can't really manage today The six others things that you wanted to say. I'll see you again. Please don't think me abrupt But maybe the wait might just help it clear up!' It was hard to retire from being a GP Now nobody wants an opinion from me I don't have appointments or thank yous or flowers But I do have more energy, yes, and more hours No management meetings or critical timing But I guess that's the crux of this cloud's silver lining... Now I don't leave the house and get back in the dark I have time for that woman I met in the park And out on the school run, my grandkids in tow, There's a young mum who chats and I know that she knows That I'm happy to hear (since I'm not in a hurry), That her baby's just fine but her sister's a worry. And serving the juice at the church 'mums and tots' I see so many people and find I learn lots (Not least that the qualifications I need Are to keep coffee flowing and top up the tea And to chat with the carers and then to wash up) And I think back to 'oldies' who poured me a cup. So I'm happy and honoured to join in the ranks Of the volunteers at the local food bank And to be on the rotas and stack up the seats And to visit the lonely old chap down the street. Cos people need grannies - there's loads they can do And when you're not looking they pray for you too. |
Judges Comments
Pam Rhodes writes:
Ruth has created a poem that’s touches me on so many different levels. How frustrating to become a GP because she cared enough to want to relieve the pain and fear of illness, only to find herself spending years on a treadmill where she always had to treat patients with one eye on the clock. In comparing her previous working life with her retirement, and the opportunities she has now to show care through volunteering, serving, chatting and even packing up chairs, Ruth reveals her real joy and contentment in conversation, hugs and the
knowledge that when she asks her neighbour how they’re feeling, she’s got the time and compassion to REALLY want to know the answer.
And I love the last line – that whatever friendly or practical help she’s able to give, she knows that a quiet prayer for someone in need will bring blessing and joy to them both. This poem really made me smile.
Dave Bilbrough writes:
I love this insightful poem. Ruth Eardley provides a poignant narrative of the transition from being in place of prominence in her community through her vocation as a trusted GP into the early stages of retirement. She observes so well the changing season that occurred for her with more time on her hands. The enforced pressures and time commitments no longer exist and for her the challenge of adjusting to a life lived at a different pace became real.
It's interesting to see how her time and ways of connecting with people changed, and yet still with the same heart of service to others. An excellent joint winner.
Andrew Pratt writes:
The narrative of this poem drew me in…Dying?... ‘too young at fifty nine’… ‘Now nobody wants [an opinion from] me…
So many people, and I am one, are verbs rather than nouns. I am not a thing. Like my father I am defined by what I do. And so it is for many active people, not least the GP of this poem. And all this is fine until retirement puts you away, leaves you on a shelf. Adjustment can be difficult.
A few years back I had a heart attack. During rehab we were urged to work with what was, rather than with what we wanted life to be. To do what we were able to do, not what we once did. This was mainly a physical adjustment, but it was also mental. So I identify with this GP. This is personal. A busy life. And what now?
Yet I love the way the poet adapts to what is possible and finds fulfilment in conversation or making a cup of tea. And may her life be as full now as the refreshment she offers to others. And may I, may we, reading this poem, learn its lesson over and over again as age alters and reframes our abilities and limits. Thank you for sharing, reminding me, and teaching me in this way that I may adjust to the rhythm of your verse, of my life, and be satisfied with its difference, its cadence. These words are a real gift!
Ruth has created a poem that’s touches me on so many different levels. How frustrating to become a GP because she cared enough to want to relieve the pain and fear of illness, only to find herself spending years on a treadmill where she always had to treat patients with one eye on the clock. In comparing her previous working life with her retirement, and the opportunities she has now to show care through volunteering, serving, chatting and even packing up chairs, Ruth reveals her real joy and contentment in conversation, hugs and the
knowledge that when she asks her neighbour how they’re feeling, she’s got the time and compassion to REALLY want to know the answer.
And I love the last line – that whatever friendly or practical help she’s able to give, she knows that a quiet prayer for someone in need will bring blessing and joy to them both. This poem really made me smile.
Dave Bilbrough writes:
I love this insightful poem. Ruth Eardley provides a poignant narrative of the transition from being in place of prominence in her community through her vocation as a trusted GP into the early stages of retirement. She observes so well the changing season that occurred for her with more time on her hands. The enforced pressures and time commitments no longer exist and for her the challenge of adjusting to a life lived at a different pace became real.
It's interesting to see how her time and ways of connecting with people changed, and yet still with the same heart of service to others. An excellent joint winner.
Andrew Pratt writes:
The narrative of this poem drew me in…Dying?... ‘too young at fifty nine’… ‘Now nobody wants [an opinion from] me…
So many people, and I am one, are verbs rather than nouns. I am not a thing. Like my father I am defined by what I do. And so it is for many active people, not least the GP of this poem. And all this is fine until retirement puts you away, leaves you on a shelf. Adjustment can be difficult.
A few years back I had a heart attack. During rehab we were urged to work with what was, rather than with what we wanted life to be. To do what we were able to do, not what we once did. This was mainly a physical adjustment, but it was also mental. So I identify with this GP. This is personal. A busy life. And what now?
Yet I love the way the poet adapts to what is possible and finds fulfilment in conversation or making a cup of tea. And may her life be as full now as the refreshment she offers to others. And may I, may we, reading this poem, learn its lesson over and over again as age alters and reframes our abilities and limits. Thank you for sharing, reminding me, and teaching me in this way that I may adjust to the rhythm of your verse, of my life, and be satisfied with its difference, its cadence. These words are a real gift!
Judge's Choice - Highly Commended Poems
The judges each chose a poem that deserved a special commendation alongside the winning poems.
Presented in alphabetical order of the judge's name
Presented in alphabetical order of the judge's name
Andrew Pratt's Choice
Grandma's Taken to Sledding by Jennifer Hope-Jones
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May it blizzard, may it flurry
May she slip or may she slide Grandma's taken to sledding On HER own white-knuckle ride. May she clatter down the hillside May she sled until it hurts For it is VERY chilly When the snow gets up her skirts! May she sled until her dentures Rattle loudly in her head Here's oil to the old girl's runners Long years before she's dead, SO May it blizzard, may it flurry May she slip & may she slide, Grandma's taken to sledding On HER own white-knuckle ride! |
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About Jennifer
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Jennifer, Jenni to her friends, was born in Reigate. She spent 35 years living and working in Worthing, Sussex, in drawing offices. She returned to Reigate in 1994 due to ill health, which amongst other symptoms took away her sight her sight for a few short minutes. After some eye surgery it was restored, with the aid of glasses. Having been registered disabled – still retaining an active imagination, she was now free to return to her illustrations and poems of characters; enough to compile a slim collection which she has entitled, An Illustrated Guide to Eccentrics. Her dream is to have it published in full colour one day.
It was back in Surrey that she was awarded a place as a mature student to Epsom School of Art and Design, thus knitting together the broken threads of her art studies in 1980. Jenni writes: “If any of my dear age compatriots, or other of all ages, have a knocking upon the door of imagination, bid them a joyful entrance.” |
Andrew writes:
This was fun from beginning to end, silly and daft, and I like that. I can be a bit daft too. At the age of seventy-five I like to challenge other people’s expectations and prejudices. And that is the spirit of this of poem, expressed in so few lines.
Immediately I imagine Grandma, surreptitiously creeping out before daughter or son, hears the creak of the door and fears for the chill of the weather, let alone broken wrist or worse, cries of ‘you really shoudn’t do that at your age, granny!’ Blizzard, slip, slide, white knuckle – the language races ahead of us. And I imagine the thrill of grand-children, less aware of danger, cheering her on way as they watch through the window.
What makes this a winner for me is the reality of the image. I can identify with it myself, the sense of ‘you try to stop me’, ‘I’m not past it yet’ and the reclamation of child-hood excitement in my head if not in my joints. It resonates with my experience when I first got an electric assist bike and overtook a youngster racing up a hill. It reminds me of a nonagenarian friend, to the shock horror of his adult children taking a sky-dive for his ninetieth birthday.
May her dentures still rattle and her joy, more than childlike, live on even when the snow gets up her skirts and may she rattle on. Thanks for the joy of which this poem reminded me, and of all the fun I intend to hang onto. We are never too old for fun or joy, even if that may shock those who still wish to coset us and protect us from our own sled-long ride! Thank you for encouraging me and bringing me joy.
Immediately I imagine Grandma, surreptitiously creeping out before daughter or son, hears the creak of the door and fears for the chill of the weather, let alone broken wrist or worse, cries of ‘you really shoudn’t do that at your age, granny!’ Blizzard, slip, slide, white knuckle – the language races ahead of us. And I imagine the thrill of grand-children, less aware of danger, cheering her on way as they watch through the window.
What makes this a winner for me is the reality of the image. I can identify with it myself, the sense of ‘you try to stop me’, ‘I’m not past it yet’ and the reclamation of child-hood excitement in my head if not in my joints. It resonates with my experience when I first got an electric assist bike and overtook a youngster racing up a hill. It reminds me of a nonagenarian friend, to the shock horror of his adult children taking a sky-dive for his ninetieth birthday.
May her dentures still rattle and her joy, more than childlike, live on even when the snow gets up her skirts and may she rattle on. Thanks for the joy of which this poem reminded me, and of all the fun I intend to hang onto. We are never too old for fun or joy, even if that may shock those who still wish to coset us and protect us from our own sled-long ride! Thank you for encouraging me and bringing me joy.
Dave Bilbrough's Choice
To you who are younger than I by Angie Pollard
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I know I’m old and ‘past-it’,
But just stay with me a while. I see you could be happier And I can make you smile. I’ll share a little wisdom hard-earned through my mistakes, faults and sins and failings which caused my heart to break. For life isn’t always easy when broken dreams are here, along with sorrow, grief and loss and hearts so full of fear. But after every frightening storm there’ll come a bright rainbow: a promise that there will be joy is what you need to know. It’s more than just a trouble halved: I’ve seen it all before. My years have taught me many things And that there’s always more. For joy will come, and gladness too To bring you much delight. You WILL feel happiness again Despite this endless night. So as I see you start to smile And gain a different view, I’m glad for all the difficulties that I can share with you. It’s one great joy in being old, Advancing through the years. I’ve lived so long and now I know: That joy defeats the tears. Age brings experience and hope So as I share with you My faith that joy will soon return Is a comfort for me, too. The giver now receives a gift Which nothing can destroy: That deep, deep sense of happiness – in giving, we find joy. |
About Angie
Angie is 70 this year. That’s an elderly person’s number, not her. In her head she’s in her thirties, getting younger by the day. She’s a wife; a mother of twins; a besotted grandmother of 3 delightful granddaughters in one family and 1 equally delightful grandson in the other; a teacher – still loving teaching R.E. one day a week; a coffee-loving friend;. She’s thankful for the years which have brought her these joys. She’s grateful for the internet which allows her to keep in close touch with family, and with friends all over the world, especially from the times she lived in Sweden and Kenya. Loves dogs. And chocolate. She dabbles with writing. Often a travel blog. Some little articles and stories over the years, some actually published. She loved the Embracing Age poetry challenge – finds writing to a theme is inspiring. It’s been fun reflecting on the many positives which come with living longer… |
Dave writes:
Age often does come with experience. Angie Pollard, for me hits the nail on the head by writing in her poem, To You Who are Younger Than I, words of wisdom to a younger individual. It’s written in a way that we can all relate to, sharing some of the struggles, failings and challenges that life throws at us but hinting at the need for patience, perseverance and faith. Wisdom learnt from the elderly down the generations is such an important and time-honoured virtue. Finding reliable guides for life’s journey who have walked ahead of us is to be valued. The old adage, ‘when you learn, you teach’, is so true. One of the joys of ageing is to have that privilege.
This thoughtful and accessible poem ticks all the right boxes for me.
This thoughtful and accessible poem ticks all the right boxes for me.
Pam Rhodes' Choice
Joy in Ageing - Hard to Find by Gloria Brown
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‘Joy in Ageing’? Hard to find,
Very little comes to mind. Aches and pains and creaking knee These for sure ‘Abide with Me.’ Middle age boasts some delight Time enough to put things right. Lovers lost and battles won. ‘Summer’s lease’ too quickly gone. Now Shakespeare’s seventh age of man Tells us every sense grows ‘san’; While Housman sighed for springs long spent, And mourned the land of lost content. Tormented Hopkins looked within And saw a world despoiled by sin. But then rejoiced, when spring arrived That green miraculous growth survived. Now Browning said ‘grow old with me’ You’ll find ‘the best is yet to be.’ But when his dear wife thought upon it She sighed, and penned another sonnet.. Wise Blake it was who wrote the line: That ‘joy and woe are woven fine’. And both may come, as friend or foe, So that is all we need to know! (With apologies to the poets whose names I have used and from whom I have quoted. Like Montaigne, ‘I have gathered a posy of other men’s flowers, and only the thread that binds them is my own.’) |
About Gloria
Gloria lives in Beckenham. She worked as a nurse and then as a social worker in southeast London until she retired at 65. She has a daughter and three grandchildren who live nearby. Her interests are gardening and belonging to various local groups, which include the Arts Society and RC church, and she is a keen member of her local library’s book group. This competition aroused her interest, not because she embraces old age, but because it made her think of the huge range of responses to ageing which abound in the arts. She writes, “The poem could have been much longer but there is a limit to how many rhyming couplets one can muster up!” |
Pam writes:
As a journalist and author of nearly 30 books, I’ve spent a lifetime enjoying the sheer pleasure of writing – and this poet, Gloria Brown, is my kind of girl! She certainly knows her literature, as this verse rings with the names of famous writers and familiar quotations, all woven into her own delightful poem extolling the virtues of joy. It’s such an imaginative idea that she pulls off with great skill and wit. My favourite line is the postscript in which she apologies to the poets whose work she’s mentioned, by quoting a line from Montaigne to explain that her verse is a ‘posy of other men’s flowers, and only the thread that binds them is my own’. But then, we older folk know that one of the greatest joys of aging is that we feel free to borrow other people’s good ideas and make them our own - only better!
ART WINNERS
Autumn Leaf by Robin Salter
Appreciative Art by Holly Trundle
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Appreciation by Holly Trundle
Joy in ageing is having time For appreciation, To use imagination To draw or write some lines. Joy in ageing is opportunity For appreciation, Stepping away from mechanisation To look and revel in nature’s beauty. Joy in ageing is taking a chance For appreciation, Diving into education, For the love of learning, not just to advance. Joy in ageing is giving room, For appreciation Of loved friends, pets and relations, Savouring each moment because they’re gone too soon. Joy in ageing is a blessing, With appreciation, And steadfast intention To find a silver lining in everything. |
About Holly
Holly Trundle is in the final year of a Writing and English Literature degree at Anglia Ruskin University, which is helping her to recover from being 24/7 live-in Carer for her Mum, who has advanced dementia. Writing poetry, drawing and flower arranging helped Holly to cope as she watched her Mum’s decline. Eventually, Holly had to
step away from caring directly because her own mental health was being severely impacted.
Drawing flowers and taking time to appreciate their simple beauty gives Holly pleasure and an opportunity to calm mind, body and soul and be grateful for the joy of creation. She feels it is a miracle for flowers to grow from a seed, and for a poem or drawing to grow from an idea and a blank page, and she enjoys sharing these
blessings with others.
step away from caring directly because her own mental health was being severely impacted.
Drawing flowers and taking time to appreciate their simple beauty gives Holly pleasure and an opportunity to calm mind, body and soul and be grateful for the joy of creation. She feels it is a miracle for flowers to grow from a seed, and for a poem or drawing to grow from an idea and a blank page, and she enjoys sharing these
blessings with others.
Multi Media Winners
Joyce is living with dementia in a care home in Hampshire. We loved these photos of Joyce living life to the full, racing at Goodwood and sailing. We'll share more of Joyce's story soon.
Our other multimedia winner is a gaming grandad having fun with his grandson. |
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About Joyce
Joyce was born in London in 1923 and grew up near Epping Forest. Joyce was an army wife and therefore lived in many different countries including Malaya, Paris and Germany, where she learned to speak German and is still close to friends out there. Joyce hosted many foreign students and was an exam invigilator for the police and also taught lace making. Joyce was an active member of the embroiders guild and several lace making clubs. Joyce is very outgoing even as a 101-year-old and not mobile, she still manages to live life to the full. For Joyce 100th birthday her care home came up with 10 things to do before she turns 100, one thing for every decade of her life. This included things like horse riding, sailing, racing around Goodwood among other things.
Joyce definitely shows that growing old doesn’t mean you cannot enjoy life!
Joyce definitely shows that growing old doesn’t mean you cannot enjoy life!
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