I’m Frances, seventy-seven now, retired, though for most of my working life I was an occupational therapist. It was a job I loved because it was all about people — helping them find ways to live their lives as fully as possible. Alongside that, I’ve always had pottery in my life. There’s something very grounding about clay, about shaping something out of nothing with your hands. I think that combination — working with people and making things — has shaped the way I see the world.
I’m married, and we’ve raised two sons who are grown up now with lives of their own. When they left home, the house felt quieter, and I suddenly had space and time to think about what came next for me. I didn’t want to sit still, so I looked for ways I could be useful. With my background, I thought perhaps I could bring something to volunteering, and before I knew it, it became part of my life. That was over thirty years ago. Once you start, it’s hard to imagine not doing it.
Over the years, I’ve tried my hand at all sorts of roles. One of the earliest things I did was run pottery classes at Queens Park in Aylesbury. That was many years ago, but it gave me such joy to watch people discover the satisfaction of creating something, especially those who had never thought they could. Later, I became more involved in one-to-one mentoring. I worked with Kids Company, Home Start in High Wycombe, and Home Start in Watford, all of which involved sitting alongside families, often in difficult circumstances, and just being a steady presence. Sometimes it was practical, sometimes it was emotional — often it was simply listening.
I also did group sessions with Social Link, which brought together people who might otherwise have been isolated. That sense of togetherness really matters. And then there was India. I spent six weeks there, working with groups and helping with equipment provision. It was challenging, of course, but also life-changing. The colours, the culture, the resilience of the people — it stays with you. In fact, one of the volunteers I met there is still a close friend twenty years later. Isn’t it funny how these things work out? You go to the other side of the world thinking you’ll just be useful for a few weeks, and you come back with a friendship that lasts a lifetime.
Around Christmas, I often helped with Crisis. That’s always humbling, to be part of something that tries to bring a little warmth and dignity at a time when loneliness can feel sharpest. And I’ve registered and trained with organisations like Transitions and Cauldwell, though those, sadly, didn’t really go anywhere due to lack of follow-up. That’s one of the frustrations in volunteering: sometimes you put yourself forward and it feels like the opportunity just vanishes.
What’s kept me going all these years has been people. Meeting people from all walks of life, all ages, all backgrounds. There’s so much richness in that, and you learn as much from them as they do from you. I won’t pretend I feel the same drive as I once did — some recent experiences left me disheartened. But even now, the core of it remains: I want to support people who are less fortunate than I am.
I’ve tended to keep my volunteering quite separate from my personal life. I didn’t want it to take over everything, and sometimes I think it helped to keep a boundary there. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t formed lasting bonds. As I said, the friendship from India is one of them. Another was with the mother of a severely disabled child I supported. The trust we built and the strength I saw in her has never left me. Those connections are the ones that remind you why you do it.
It hasn’t all been straightforward. There was one family I mentored who were very difficult, and at times I felt like I was getting nowhere. But I just kept turning up, kept trying. In the end, that experience turned into one of the most rewarding. It taught me that perseverance often matters more than quick results.
When I look back, both my profession and my volunteering have made me appreciate my own good fortune. I’ve seen people with very little manage with courage and humour, and it puts my own troubles in perspective. These days, I approach things differently. I mentor at a slower pace. I don’t rush in. Age teaches you that listening is sometimes the best thing you can do. You don’t always need to fix everything — just to be there.
As for the future, I honestly don’t know. I find myself more frustrated now with how much time gets lost in paperwork. And when I’ve offered to volunteer and nothing has come of it, that’s disheartening too. So I may not continue in the same way.
But I would never want to put someone else off. If you’re thinking about volunteering, I’d say: go for it. Just go for it. Pick a charity or a cause that really matters to you, something you feel in your bones, because that’s what will carry you through when it gets difficult. And don’t be afraid of not having all the answers — you don’t need them. What matters most is showing up.
Volunteering is one of those things that gives back more than you expect. You might think you’re giving your time, but what you gain — friendships, perspective, sometimes even a whole new way of looking at life — is far greater. It’s shaped who I am. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
