A decade ago, when I was 29, I genuinely thought I’d missed the boat. I wasn’t sure which boat or where it was heading. I just knew I was about to miss it and that I should probably be on board by now. Lots of my friends were on it, you see – and I didn’t want to be left behind. They were probably all on their third G&T by now, looking back to shore, pityingly.
They wouldn’t be able to see me for dust, though. I was living in Hong Kong at the time, heading up a publishing company. It was a great job. It was a great life. The sun shone year-round, my friends all lived on my doorstep and hangovers were yet to become truly evil. I took real advantage of all of those things. Combined, they made for a lovely lifestyle.
And yet, I started to sense a creeping dread. Thirty was a milestone age. An age when I should have done ‘stuff.’ Married stuff, children stuff, money stuff. Why hadn’t I done ALL OF THE STUFF? Time was running out. Or so I thought. Despite having a life I truly loved, I felt on some level like I was failing. Or at least like I was headed for failure. My fear of the future began to eat into my daily happiness.
When I finally returned to London in my mid-thirties, my anxieties about getting older were becoming overwhelming. Much of it was man-related. Even more of it was child-related. But there was more to it than that. Even if I’d had all of those things sorted, I was still consumed by the feeling that life from here would be somehow... increasingly crap.
Getting older felt problematic to me. And why wouldn’t it? All the products in my make-up bag were stamped with ‘anti-ageing’. A new phone app was showing me how hysterically awful I would look in years to come. None of my colleagues were over 50, presumably because everyone that age was sitting at home in a rocking chair, knitting? Birthday cards were about being over the hill. Ageing is bleak, the message was. Fight it. Or at least die trying.
At 35, hurtling towards an even more terrifying milestone age, I decided enough was enough. Over a bottle of wine (it ages the skin!) with an equally age-fearing friend, Helen Cathcart, we came up with the idea for Bolder (be-bolder.com). We’d meet people we’d usually dump in the category of ‘old’ and see what they were actually like. At best, our perceptions about ageing would be transformed. At the very least, we’d get access to some proper, hard-earned wisdom. In the end, we got both.
One of our first interviews was with Michael Eavis, the founder of Glastonbury Festival. As we bounced across the fields, past an empty Pyramid Stage, in his muddy Land Rover, he told us, ‘The best age of my life so far is now. I have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve made the most of my life. I will die happy, but not yet!’ His eyes shone when he spoke, especially when he told us about his plans for his 80th birthday party. On the train home, we felt invigorated – infected by his youthful energy. It was a taste of things to come.
Our Bolder journey ended up taking us all over the world. One day we’d be getting a swimming lesson from an 87-year-old instructor in the South of France, the next we’d be meeting octogenarian skydivers on a windswept beach in LA. Every interview left us on a high. We literally drove o grinning into the sunset after our afternoon with the French chef Michel Roux Snr, who told us ‘you can do anything or be anyone!’ as we got into our rental car and said our goodbyes.
Since then, we’ve sunk Guinness with Richard Branson’s mum Eve when she was 91 (she’s now 96), we’ve had a living room concerto with a 78-year-old classical pianist and an impromptu personal training session from a 75-year-old kung fu master. We’ve sat, hungover and immobile, watching 90-year-olds playing energetic tennis in New Zealand. And we’ve talked sex and regrets with an 86-year-old YouTuber.
It’s been a blast. But more than that, it’s been an eye opener. Because with each interview, there’s been a tiny shift in our attitude. The people we’ve met are still active, attractive and relevant. They are still falling in love, going to their weekly yoga class, and making new friends as they reach their next milestone age – whether that’s 70 or 100. So many of them cite the happiest age of their lives as now, not then. Their attitudes are brilliant, bright – bold. They are anything but invisible. And ever since we started to see them, hear them and learn from them – we’ve felt much better.
So 10 years on, and 50 stereotype- shattering interviewees down, am I cured of my fear? Not 100%. I am still vain enough to mourn my 29-year-old skin and I am aware that ageing inevitably comes with hindrances and hiccups. But there has been a shift. Because I’ve seen the other side.
Old age doesn’t just ‘happen’ one day. It’s a constant and a privilege for all of us. Admittedly, the idea of approaching 40 is sometimes alarming, but whereas 30 felt doom-ridden, 40 feels more like a gift. I have friends who haven’t been lucky enough to reach this milestone age, something I was wildly naïve about 10 years ago.
The deadline on my happiness was self-imposed all along, I now realise. And the deadline on love. I am single right now, but far less fixated on it than ever before. I’ve come off all the dating apps that used to plague me daily and I am just letting things happen naturally, or not at all. I can’t be quite as casual and carefree when it comes to children, but with people like Natalie Imbruglia proving that it is entirely possible to go it alone, I can see that I have options. Good ones. In the meantime, I am now the proud owner of a ridiculously small sausage dog by the name of Coco, who ensures I stay active and entertained every single day.
Thanks to Bolder and all of my brilliant interviewees, I became a published author this year, too and I hope that this is the rst book of many. And why not? Living until 80 and beyond is now the norm, not the exception. I have a lot more to learn and a lot more to say with each passing year.
Most importantly, I now realise that there isn’t just one boat. So even if I’ve missed a couple, there are plenty more on the way. It’s a fairly regular service, thank you very much. Now I just need to nd my ticket.
‘Bolder: Life Lessons From People Older & Wiser an You’ is out now.
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