Feeling lonely? Hit the nightclub for old groovers!
As millions face Christmas alone, meet the pensioners who are...
EVERYONE has a song that is guaranteed to get them up dancing. For 85-year-old Joan Huxtable, it is Tina Turner’s Simply The Best. And sure enough, as the opening bars thunder through the room, she bolts up from her chair and waves her arms in the air.
You would never know that Joan – or Pinky, as she’s known to her friends, due to her garish hair colour – recently suffered a mental breakdown.
She has lived alone for 30 years, following the death of her husband. ‘I’ve had a hard life,’ she told me earlier. ‘First my husband, and then my son died 13 years ago. Sometimes it’s difficult to get out of the house and it can be so very lonely.’
Yet, here she is, dancing as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.
Taking Pinky’s lead, a flurry of eightysomethings, all in sequined dresses and pork-pie hats, strut towards the dancefloor, heads a-bobbing. Soon, they form a conga line behind the party’s MC, a burlesque dancer named Sadie Sinner.
It’s the type of contagious energy I’m used to seeing in London nightclubs after a few shots of tequila – but not in a church hall in Hackney at 2pm on a Wednesday. Welcome to The Posh Club, Britain’s first daytime nightclub for the over-60s.
First, t here i s a 1940s- t hemed afternoon tea, with end-of-the-pier humour from the hosts, and a strict dress code for all guests – ‘posh and fancy’. But come 2pm, the tables are cleared to make way for the all-important dancing.
In truth, I’m at the best party I’ve been to since my university days. And it’s the only one I’ve ever been to where there is builders’ tea on tap and I’m home before dinner (heaven). But, as much fun as it is, this is an event with a serious mission.
The Posh Club, which happens regularly in London, Hastings, Brighton and Crawley, is an initiative designed to fight loneliness – an urgent public health problem said to be as deadly as obesity and smoking.
FORGET BINGO – OLDER PEOPLE NOW LEARN TO WRESTLE
TODAY, more than two million Britons over the age of 75 live alone. And, according to Age UK, one-in-four admits to being lonely on a daily basis. ‘Loneliness is linked to low mood, depression, stress and anxiety,’ says Jill Mortimer, of Age UK, the country’s leading charity for older adults.
‘These can cause elevated levels of the stress hormone cortisol, which has significant effects on the heart. Chronic loneliness increases the risk of stroke, exacerbating the progression of dementia.’
And it’s at this time of year, when others enjoy the festive season surrounded by friends and family, that isolation stings most acutely. Age UK estimates that nearly 900,000 older Britons will be spending Christmas Day on their own.
Over the past decade, there has been a massive drive led by government and health chiefs to tackle the problem of loneliness. In 2011, the UK’s first dedicated charity, Campaign To End Loneliness, was launched, driving research into the repercussions of social isolation.
MPs and charities later collaborated on a commission to tackle loneliness in 2017, in memory of the murdered Labour MP Jo Cox, who had started the project before her tragic death.
Community-led events for older adults have since popped up across the country to meet demand – and it’s not just bingo and bridge.
Age UK branches recently added Brazilian drumming and wrestling to their social club activities. In Belfast, the charity Engage With Age has launched The Slipped Disco, a three-hour dancea-thon featuring hits of the 1970s and 1980s.
And The Cares Family organisation, which has branches in London, Manchester and Liverpool, pairs pensioners with young professionals f or boxing and karate classes.
‘The generation we are catering to came of age in the 1950s and 1960s,’ says Robin Hewings, of the Campaign To End Loneliness. ‘ The things they want to do is changing.’ Jill Mortimer, from Age UK, agrees. ‘We’re finally starting to get over the stereotype that all older people just want to sit quietly in the corner and knit,’ she says.
Back at The Posh Club, I notice a dainty woman wearing a leopardprint head-dress, and sipping from her china teacup. The seats next to her are empty – everyone else has hotfooted it to the dancefloor. ‘Maybe later,’ she says, nodding to the crowd and making a wincing face, in reference to the deafeningly loud music.
Ordinarily, Iona Bottling, 84, would be up there ‘going for it’. But a disastrous fall a few months ago has left her shaky on her feet.
‘I got up in the night to go to the loo and I slipped and couldn’t get back up,’ says the mother-of-two from Brighton, who has lived alone since the death of her husband a decade ago. ‘I lay there until 9am, when my carer called in. I used to be most scared about dying at night – no one would know about it.’
It’s the frightening face of isolation to so many people over 75 who live alone, according to charity Age UK. Combating it relies on building social connections. ‘This happens far more naturally if they’re doing something they’re interested in,’ says Robin Hewings. ‘ And just because someone hits a certain age it doesn’t mean their personality falls off a cliff.’ For Iona, whose
‘MY No 1 RULE? I LEAVE MY STICK AT THE DOOR’
children live in the US, The Posh Club has made all the difference. ‘After my husband died there was a big void in my life,’ she says. ‘I became depressed. I didn’t know how to cope with being alone. My doctor recommended I try local social clubs. I loved the idea of getting dressed up.’
Of all the lunch clubs she has tried over the past two years, The Posh Club, which i s on most weeks, is the only one she’s stuck with. So what’s the appeal? ‘They don’t fuss,’ she says. ‘There’s no hand-holding or “Can I take your arm, dear?” We can get up dancing just like we used to years ago. There are no old-fashioned fuddyduddies here. And I get to see the same group of lovely people every week.’ Thanks to The Posh Club, Iona now has a group of five friends – all in their late 70s and 80s – who call in on her every few days.
‘Sometimes I meet up with the girls during the week for a coffee, too,’ she adds. One such friend is Mo, 82, who sidles back from the dancefloor during our conversation, pleading with Iona to join her. ‘ Come on, you l ove this one!’ Chubby Checker’s Let’s Twist Again ripples through the room. Once the song registers, she’s up, using my forearm as a crutch. ‘I’ve had three hip replacements,’ she announces. ‘But I can still twist!’
LATER, I chat to Lorna, a vivacious, 67- year- old former university admin assistant from Streatham, South London.
She’s dancing with her best friend Margareta, from Sweden who, now in her late 80s, struggles to walk unaided.
The pair, who met at The Posh Club three years ago, are inseparable, giggling and cuddling like mischievous schoolgirls.
When the dancing commences, Lorna takes Margareta by both hands and they begin swaying in unison.
‘I’ve never met anyone like her before,’ says Lorna. ‘We are so different but we share the same energy for life. ’
As the lights come on and it’s time to leave, there’s something baffling me. Many of the guests I speak to rely on walking aids to get around. Yet on the dance floor, there are few walking sticks in sight.
Then I remember something Lorna shouted over Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On.
‘I have a rule. I leave my stick by the door when I walk in. I don’t know why, but my knees never hurt when I’m dancing.’