I’ve been volunteering most of my life. I’d say it started properly in my twenties, so that makes it about 56 years now. My mum and dad set the example. My mum especially – she did Meals on Wheels and helped with the British Legion in Old Amersham. I grew up seeing that and it stuck with me.
I was born in Amersham, but I live in Holmer Green now. Over the years I’ve been involved in all sorts: the Amersham Museum, the Alzheimer’s Society, Dementia Carers Respite, Dementia Support Bucks, Holmer Green Players, the Village Society, even the Village Hall. I’ve always had one foot in community life.
Losing my wife to Alzheimer’s really pushed me further into dementia-related volunteering. She died about four years ago, and that left a big hole. Volunteering fills some of that gap. It gives me a sense of purpose, and I get a buzz out of seeing things happen – whether it’s a successful museum event, selling well in the shop, or simply knowing I’ve made a difference.
When I was younger, I’ll be honest, volunteering was partly about meeting people – maybe even finding someone to marry. But I soon found myself on committees and organising things. Back in the 70s I helped run a disco. I always made sure the records and equipment turned up on time. I suppose I’ve always been a bit of an organiser.
These days, what I want to achieve is more modest. I don’t see it as changing the world. It’s the little victories – a well-run event, a shop day that goes well, fireworks that actually light up the sky when they’re supposed to. Those things matter.
Volunteering has definitely connected me more with the community. When I first got involved at the museum, I only knew a few people from my youth. Now I know many more in Holmer Green. But the truth is, you mostly meet people who also “do something.” If people don’t volunteer or come to events, they probably don’t know you. A lot of it happens behind the scenes.
Recruiting new volunteers has become harder. We see the same faces, often aged 50 to 85, keeping things going. Young people will help out for one-off things, like setting up tents for a music event, but they rarely want to commit or take responsibility. There’s a lot of “I need me-time” nowadays. It wasn’t like that in the 80s – back then plenty of people mucked in.
I can’t think of one single most rewarding moment. Most of it is rewarding in its own way. I do remember one summer in 2018, at the first musical festival here. My wife was at home and her dementia had suddenly worsened. I was out taking photos and she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t beside her. That’s stayed with me. Volunteering has highs and lows like that.
Challenges? Funding, definitely. With Dementia Carers Respite, where I’m a trustee, raising money is hard. Councils won’t fund it, and applying for grants is a nightmare. Each funder has different requirements, different reporting periods. It takes endless time. The museum is easier – people love it and happily donate. Dementia isn’t like that; people think government should pay for it, so fundraising is tougher.
Through volunteering I’ve gained skills. My work life was in PR and marketing, and I’ve carried those skills into committee roles, design work, desktop publishing. I’ve had to learn computers and stock systems. More importantly, I’ve gained confidence. I used to be shy. Now I can speak up, even if I don’t always know when to stop.
I’ll carry on volunteering as long as I can, into my 80s if possible. I live on my own and don’t want another partner because, frankly, it would interfere with my volunteering. It gives me purpose.
If someone asked me why they should volunteer, I’d say it’s rewarding when you see something you’ve worked on succeed – selling out tickets for a play, running a smooth fireworks night, putting on an event that people enjoy. It makes you feel part of something bigger. Sometimes it fails, and you learn. But if you put yourself into it, you’ll get a lot back.
That’s been my experience: 56 years of little victories, keeping things going, staying connected. Volunteering has shaped who I am. I can’t imagine life without it.
