Scrolling social media lately has been, for Gen X at least, a chance to swim in a glittering ocean of nostalgia. Normally, I’ve no time for the rose-tinted spectacles sported by the golden-agers of Facebook – the ones with a tendency to pen terrible poems about the glory days of the 1950s. (“We played on the bombsite and skinned our knees/and all the beds at home had fleas”). But when it’s my generation, which grew up in the ‘70s and ‘80s, nostalgia is a powerful and intoxicating drug. So why do we feel nostalgia?

Back in time with One Day

Ambika Mod as Emma & Leo Woodall as Dexter. Photo: Netflix

One Day, the Netflix adaptation of David Nicholls’ novel about Emma and Dex and their long, ’80s-to-’00s friends-to-lovers arc, blindsided many of us with its pinpoint-accurate depictions of the clothes, music, and attitudes we embraced growing up. From the tragic growing-out perm, to the ‘curtains’ Loaded lad hair, to the glass-brick loo walls and horrific coked-up mega-restaurants of the ‘90s.

Just watching the scene where Dexter is attaining toe-curling levels of dick-ishness shot me back to an evening at The Atlantic bar with braying media types. And the stolen Quaglinos ashtray that lived on my kitchen shelf for years.

The exquisite melancholy of the past

After that briskly refreshing plunge into the past, I went to see All of Us Strangers, a deeply melancholic film about isolation and loneliness. It sees a middle-aged Andrew Scott suddenly able to visit the ghosts of his parents who died in 1987. A world of patterned acrylic jumpers, Harvest-ware toasters, unquestioned indoor smoking, and Top of the Pops on the boxy living room telly.

All of Us Strangers, starring Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal

Not only was it a devastatingly sad film, it also triggered a tsunami of memories of what most suburban kitchens looked like before ‘lifestyle’ got involved. And how back then, dads were not only permitted but encouraged to keep emotions to themselves. Nobody in my family ever said, “love you,” or “to the moon and back.” It was just assumed that you loved each other, and you’d simply get on with arguing about homework and staying up to watch Juliet Bravo.

The midlife nostalgia-fest was completed with the recent news that The Body Shop has gone into liquidation. My entire timeline filled with fond images of dewberry oil, ice blue shampoo and fuzzy peach perfume, as if a Laura Ashley washbag had exploded all over it.

As a result, I’ve been thinking heavily about nostalgia. Why we feel it, what’s it good for – even whether it can be bad for us.

Read more: Joe McGann on finding love in later life

So why do we indulge in nostalgia?

Does harking back to a half-forgotten past encourage us to imagine it was so much better back then, and to compare our current circumstances unfavourably? Or is it a positive way of linking our modern, jaded selves to the people we used to be long ago? In my case, an insecure teen who read Sweet Valley High books and dreamed about the boy in art class who had Levis and floppy hair. (Spoiler: he never noticed me, and in retrospect, was quite possibly gay).

Nostalgia is a longing or yearning for something that has happened in our past, says psychotherapist Karen Hartley. “The feeling of nostalgia is real and is triggered by something that reminds you of previous times. It often becomes most prominent in hard or uncertain times.”

…is it a positive way of linking our modern, jaded selves to the people we used to be long ago?

The word itself is a fusion of the Greek words for homecoming and pain; and was first used by a 17th century Swiss doctor who considered the condition a mental health disorder. Nowadays, we tend to view nostalgia with amused warmth, happily following ‘I had a ‘70s childhood’ groups on Facebook, and sighing over blurry Bananarama videos. (“You see, pop stars just looked like ordinary girls back then… I actually had those pixie boots…”).

Do we remember only the good bits?

Research has found that memory tends to accentuate the positive and dismiss the negative. So we forget the casual racism, sexism, homophobia, and unemployment of the ‘70s and ‘80s, in favour of recalling fewer cars on the streets, and fun times at the roller disco.

According to a study published in science journal Nature, nostalgia can reduce the cortisol released by trauma and protect against stress and anxiety. Interestingly, the study from the University of California also found that people tended to feel more nostalgic when with family and friends, or around food. And that people leaned into nostalgia when they felt depressed – perhaps unsurprisingly.

“It’s common for people to perceive the past as a simpler, better time…”

The temptation to dwell on happier times is stronger when things in the present are not so enjoyable. “We go through more nostalgic periods with age, as we encounter more triggers,” says Karen Hartley. “People might feel lonelier the older they get as well as more ‘homesick’ for lost loved ones.”

Psychotherapist Kamalyn Kaur explains, “It’s common for people to perceive the past as a simpler, better time, regardless of whether that perception is entirely accurate or not. This can happen when the brain forgets the challenges and complexities of the past, remembering and focusing only on the positives.”

So we think about the dewberry oil and forget about the school bully, or we remember our children as adorable babies and forget the agony of sleepless nights.

So a dose of nostalgia can be beneficial?

“People do it all the time, especially when it comes to relationships,” agrees Kaur. “You leave someone because they aren’t good for you but then all you can think about is all the ‘good times’.”

“As we age, we may become nostalgic for our youth or a different stage of our life – often a stage that we relate to as representing growth, exploration, or less responsibility.”

Often, she goes on to say, we feel nostalgia for a time when we experienced a sense of possibility – which is why our teenage years are such a nostalgia trigger. “As we age, we may become nostalgic for our youth or a different stage of our life – often a stage that we relate to as representing growth, exploration, or less responsibility.” It can also be a response to current stress, she adds. “When facing a difficult, complicated, or challenging time, it’s human nature to look back at a simpler, easier, and carefree time in our lives for mental relief.”

So nostalgia isn’t necessarily bad, as long as we don’t end up dwelling in an imagined past for too long. Thinking of happy memories can help put current troubles into perspective, says Kaur. “Nostalgia can evoke positive emotions; help with mood enhancement; and in some cases, be a tool for managing stress, as it allows you to ‘escape’ from your current reality.”

Although looking back, I’m not sure I truly want to escape to a time when TFI Friday was the biggest show on TV, Loaded was the best-selling mag, and ‘gay’ was a playground insult. One good thing about nostalgia – it’s a useful reminder that sometimes, the present isn’t all that bad.

The post Why do we feel nostalgia and does it serve a purpose? appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Inspired by her love for history and cosy crime, Everett dreamed up Edie York. A Manchester-based reporter stuck answering telephone calls at her local paper. Until she gets caught up in the death of a Home Guard soldier.

Everett shares how her book deal came about, after thirty years as a journalist, how WWII became the setting for her series, and the solitude that comes with being a writer. 

Who are you, and what’s going on?

F. L. Everett

I’ve been a journalist, columnist and editor for thirty years. I’ve self-published a novel and had several non-fiction books published. But during the pandemic, I turned 50, my son had long left home, I’d finally rejected the terrifying concept of getting a full-time job, and I decided it was time to concentrate on a novel I first started ten years ago, and see if I could get it published.

Writing fiction is all I’ve ever wanted to do – but with the need to earn a living it’s been hard to give it the time it needs to succeed. I felt it was now or never, so I sent a tweet in reply to publisher Bookouture’s request to see new synopses, and they liked the idea enough to follow it up. Two years later, I have a three book deal to write the Edie York series, about a brave and nosy young journalist in WWII Manchester. Who keeps getting drawn into murder investigations.

The first is out on 21 September, and book two is already written.

What aspects of your life experiences do you find yourself drawing upon most frequently as you craft the characters and plots in your crime novels?

I have been a journalist on a local paper but obviously not during WWII. People don’t change that much though, and I’ve met many people who have lent a little of themselves to the characters. In Annie, Edie’s best friend, there’s a bit of my own dearest friends – people who can sometimes annoy you, but you love them enough for it not to matter. I loved writing about Edie’s newspaper colleagues, and I believe I’ve made them up – but who knows!? 

Her editor, Mr Gorringe, is a stickler for grammar – and so is my dad. So I think I’ve probably borrowed little bits here and there. In Lou, my irascible detective inspector, I can see certain elements of my husband. I didn’t think I was anything like Edie – until I described her to my best friend (‘small, nosy, won’t take no for an answer’) and she snorted. 

In terms of plot, that really is made up. But I know Manchester very well, having grown up there and lived nearby until ten years ago. I now live in the West Highlands, but I go back all the time to see family and friends. The book is a bit of a love letter to my home town. I do a lot of research to find out where certain buildings would have stood in 1940, where was bombed and when. It’s given me a new appreciation for the buildings that stayed standing!

Could you share a glimpse into your writing process? How do you go about developing a crime storyline that keeps readers engaged?

I wish I had a process. Basically, I begin with the victim, and the circumstances of the murder scene, then work backwards to figure out who killed them and why. I don’t know if this is the normal path for a cosy crime writer, but it’s the only way I can do it. I spend a lot of time on long dog walks, thinking about alibis and red herrings, and I make voice-notes on my phone, like Alan Partridge. But I am a plotter, not a ‘pantser’ – I can’t imagine making it up as I go along. 

I begin with the victim, and the circumstances of the murder scene, then work backwards

Before I start, I write a detailed synopsis, then I break it down into chapters. It makes the process much easier. Did I mention I’m a Virgo who packs two days before a trip, and likes to do my washing on holiday, so I come home with clean clothes? Yeah. These things go deep. 

I also discuss certain things with my husband Andy, who has worryingly acute insight into how a killer’s mind might work. But largely, I just do what I’ve always wanted to do. Sit at my desk, or the kitchen table, with the cat and snacks nearby, and make it up. 

Crime novels often involve intricate details and suspenseful twists. How do you approach research to ensure your stories are both captivating and authentic?

First of all, I have an amazing historian friend, Catherine Pitt (of Pitt Stops, on Facebook). She’s been absolutely invaluable with the second book, which is quite complicated and needed a lot of research. I’d message things like ‘could you get a train to London from Manchester in April 1941 without stopping?’ and she’d find out within five minutes.

I also read a lot of WWII social history books. I have an entire bookcase dedicated to them, and I find myself ordering even more. At first it was just the basics, but now I’m getting into the obscure, white-label imports. I love reading about it, and I hate the feeling that I might be getting things wrong. I like my fiction to be rooted in genuine history. I also watch films set during the war, like Mrs Miniver and This Happy Breed. They’re invaluable for getting dialogue and class issues right. I have been to the Imperial War Museum North in Salford and the Police Museum in Manchester, both of which are incredible repositories of historic research. And then, of course, there’s Google. 

I love reading about [WWII], and I hate the feeling that I might be getting things wrong. I like my fiction to be rooted in genuine history.

In terms of plot, I love reading crime and have done since I was ten. I tend to think ‘would I guess the killer? And if so, would I guess why?’ and having read so much Golden Age crime is a real help in terms of pacing and plot twists. 

With three crime novels in the works, have you planned out all of them in one go? Or will you wing it?

No, one at time, although I do have a rough idea of the general themes of each one. I’ve just written the plot synopsis for book three, so I’ve done the hard work. Now I just have to write it.

Read more interviews – Joe McGann’s sober companion: an interview about an intervention

Many writers find inspiration from other art forms, like music or visual art. Are there any unexpected sources that have influenced your approach to crime fiction?

Yes. I think being a journalist means you’re interested in lots of different things, and I love a bit of culture. There’s reference to the arts in all of the books so far. I love researching the cultural aspects of life in the war – what they’d have seen in galleries, or at the pictures, and what music and theatre they’d enjoy. I spend a lot of time on YouTube doing ‘research.’

And of course, Edie herself is an avid reader of crime novels, so that’s fun too. Though I have to check the publishing dates to make sure she’d have been able to get them from Boots lending library. 

As you’ve transitioned into novel writing, have you discovered any surprising challenges or unexpected joys that differ from your previous work?

It’s all joy so far, apart from structural edits, which mean changing bits around like a Chinese puzzle, only to find your small alteration has messed up an entire sequence of chapter. Other than that though, I love everything about writing novels. It really is the dream. All I want in life is to be left alone to make stuff up. And to make enough money to run an animal sanctuary for abandoned cats, dogs, horses, donkeys, pygmy goats…

Writing can be a solitary endeavour. Do you find opportunities to connect with other writers or readers to discuss your ideas and thoughts? Or just crack on alone?

Being a freelance journalist is pretty solitary these days too. It’s not like when I began back in the ‘90s, when I was going all over town interviewing people in their living rooms. I love people and like to think I have lots of friends, but not when I’m working. I’m extremely solitary as a writer, like some toiling spider in a dark corner. 

It’s not like when I began back in the ‘90s, going all over town interviewing people in their living rooms

I can’t imagine being in writer’s groups and getting ‘feedback.’ Other people’s opinions are the kiss of death, and make me doubt myself. I’d much rather crack on, then find out what they think after it’s published! 

I don’t even like writing in public places like cafes. The noise! And the people! I’m much happier with a cup of tea and deafening silence. Apart from the pets snoring.

Crime novels often explore the darker aspects of human nature. How do you approach delving into these themes while keeping the narrative engaging and not overly grim?

‘Cosy’ crime is a very specific genre – there are rules. You can’t kill children or pets, and you don’t want anything too grisly at the murder scene. It’s more interesting to me to look at the psychological factors at play with crime, than peer at viscera on the pathologist’s slab. I’d always rather watch Endeavour than Silent Witness. So, I adhere to the principle of ‘if the audience doesn’t need to see it, don’t show it.’ 

Can you share a pivotal moment or realisation that pushed you to pursue crime fiction as the genre for your novels?

It’s what I love most as a reader. I think for a long time I was scared to attempt it. I knew nothing about the police or prison, and I wasn’t sure I could make it authentic in any way. Then I realised I could set it in the past, and suddenly I felt freed up to write the sort of book I would love to read.

I think it really began, though, in the school library when I was eleven. I was lurking in there one rainy lunchtime, and came across the Agatha Christie classic, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Well, it blew me away. I had never read anything so gripping or surprising. 

My wonderful grandma was a huge classic crime fan, and she introduced me to the rest of Christie, and then Sherlock Holmes stories, and Ruth Rendell. I have loved crime novels ever since, and always dreamed of writing one. I think most crime fans really love the fact that within the boundaries of a novel, calm is brought to chaos. The world is an alarming and random place, but a great crime novel narrates the pursuit of truth and justice, and ends with the case closed. It all goes back to my holiday packing, really. I like calmness and order. And I like to know everything.

In a rapidly evolving literary landscape, what do you hope your crime novels bring to readers that sets them apart and makes them memorable?

I hope they’ll invest in the character of Edie, and in her life during wartime. It’s not so long ago, but in many ways it was such a different world. I’ve tried to bring some lightness to it, as well as the darkness. My grandparents lived through the war and were both very funny. I think a lot of WWII set books overlook the fact that people made jokes, and had little irritations about queuing and sandwiches, as well as dealing with the big things. So I hope the characters feel real, and that the Manchester setting is a reminder that the war didn’t just happen in London. It was everywhere, and everyone suffered in different ways. 

I hope they enjoy trying to solve the mysteries that Edie finds herself wandering into, and lastly, I hope they like the dog. Of course I had to include one. 

Murder in the Blitz by F.L. Everett is available for purchase on 21 September as in paperback, audio, and ebook. 

The post Murder in the Blitz – Interview with Flic Everett appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Actor Joe McGann is well-known to many of us for his work on screen and stage. And we’re proud that he’s frequently been a writer for us here at Silver. But he’s taken a leap of faith, inspired to co-write – and perform in – a play with Jake Norton, centred around ‘an intervention.’

Sober Companion explores the funny, raw, and sometimes dark places of fame, addiction, and recovery.

Dan (played by Norton) is a high-flying prime time television presenter. He also has a bad habit which he denies, but he’s not hiding it as well as he thinks. 

Gerard (played by McGann) has seen it all before. He has personal experience of recovery that could be useful to Dan, so his services have been engaged. 

There is an intervention, intrusion of privacy, a stranger in the midst. We all need a little help sometimes, but it can be difficult to admit.

As Oscar Wilde once said, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

I caught up with Joe to find out how it’s going, what it’s like acting in something you’ve written, and how he’s coping with doing it all.

L-R Joe McGann and Jake Norton with Bill Elms and Antony Proctor-Williams of Liverpool Theatre Festival

How does it feel to have your work premiere this weekend then!?

Well, it’s both exciting and terrifying! It’s at this point, four days before the first performance of anything, that I usually think “why the hell do I put myself through this?” 

It will pass as I get nearer to showtime, but the struggle is real, as they say. That said, this is slightly different in that it’s going to be in my home city, a play that I’ve co-devised and co-directed, so there’s a genuine excitement at performing in front of friends and family. 

The venue is also an interesting one; they call it The Bombed Out Church, and the stage is built at what was the altar end of the church. It’s open to the sky, and so the whole experience is different from the usual theatre atmosphere. And I think all the better for that. So… bring it on!

Your play explores the theme of an intervention…

Jake and I were looking for something that two actors could do, and we were excited dramatically by the idea of an intervention. An intervention, especially in the workplace, is one of those things that absolutely nobody would welcome, that anybody would kick against, that no one would admit that they needed. 

Since we started writing, of course, the Phillip Schofield and now Huw Edwards stories have broken, and the murky world behind the scenes, in dressing rooms and HR departments, has come under scrutiny.

In the ever more increasing reach of the world of HR and this notion of a ‘duty of care’ they are becoming more common. This is very fertile ground, dramatically, and when we, purely coincidentally, happened on the idea of setting the intervention in the dressing room of a fictional ‘National Treasure” of a TV presenter we were pleased because it gave us a setting that many people are curious about. 

Since we started writing, of course, the Phillip Schofield and now Huw Edwards stories have broken, and the murky world behind the scenes, in dressing rooms and HR departments, has come under scrutiny. These dressing room fiefdoms are where media monsters are made, and often these people believe themselves genuinely untouchable. 

We thought it would be good to examine the relationship one such person had with themselves, with their loved ones, and, frankly, with reality. The patterns of behaviours that come with any addiction are pretty similar, and this gives us a template to ask universal questions about fame, recovery, privacy and publicity in what we hope is an entertaining way.

Writing is a very exposing thing. How did you push through self-doubt?

Ah, my constant friend, imposter syndrome. It’s always been with me, and I guess I’m so used to ‘pushing through it’ that this has actually become an intrinsic part of my process. It’s always there, and nothing I’ve ever done has managed to quiet it for longer than very brief moments, so the only thing to do is to embrace it. I hope that it sort of helps keeps me grounded. 

I’ll be twenty years sober next year, and the self-doubt can stay. It’s much easier to deal with than going back on the lash

Hand on heart, the only thing I ever found that I felt quieted it was a cocktail of alcohol and drugs, and that didn’t go too well as a plan. I’ll be twenty years sober next year, and the self-doubt can stay. It’s much easier to deal with than going back on the lash; for me and all of those I love. Low self-esteem and self-doubt are among the most common reasons that people turn to drugs and alcohol in the first place. We touch on this in the play. 

How will you balance the roles of writer and actor?

Jake Morton (left), Joe McGann (right) during rehearsals for Sober Companion

Pretty easily I would think- I mean my dance card isn’t exactly full of offers for either, so I will always have time, I should think. I would like to carry on writing plays, though. 

I think this process has pushed me through to a place where I feel confident enough of my ideas. I have another play in development as we speak, and that is exciting me just now. I guess the learning curve is perpendicular from my feet, and I feel that that’s a very privileged place to be.

What aspects of the theme do you find most intriguing or challenging to portray?

While I’ve said that there are many recognised symptoms shared between addicts of all kinds, I think that we are way too quick to judge the addict by their transgressions rather than recognising their pain. 

…we are way too quick to judge the addict by their transgressions rather than recognising their pain.

It also strikes me as odd that we see so many Instagram accounts and books all trumpeting about the ‘joys’ of the recovery ‘journey’. Getting one’s life back together after the horrible mess of addiction is most definitely a journey, but I feel that it’s more pilgrimage than parade. 

I’ve never felt comfortable when people congratulate me for straightening myself out. All I’ve done is stopped being destructive to myself and those around me. I’ve just come up to par, if you like. Made the basic requirements, and I’ve tried to explore this in the play. 

Sober Companion is showing as part of the Liverpool Theatre Festival 2023
Book tickets here

The post Joe McGann’s Sober Companion: an interview about an intervention appeared first on Silver Magazine.

ITV are now actively looking for contestants for the Romance Retreat (working title) – tipped as the Love Island for older people. And look out, because your over-18 kids can nominate you

ITV announced yesterday that TV icon Davina McCall will host brand new dating show the Romance Retreat, which is set to open the nation’s hearts to a whole new world of ‘grown-up love’.

In case you didn’t see Davina breaking the news…

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cp2Vw6Ej-27/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

Apparently the big shout is for men. Where are you all?!

How can you be on it?

The fresh new dating format follows nominated single parents, from all over the UK, and from all walks of life, as they live together at a stunning country house with one objective: to find true love.

Read more: Joe McGann on finding love in later life

The press release says: “Get the tissues at the ready as we witness the highs and the lows, the tears and the funny moments, of finding love again. Casting for the ground-breaking series is now open, with ITV calling for vibrant single parents and their grown-up children from across the UK to apply via ITV’s Be On TV page.”

If my child is reading this, do NOT nominate me, or there will be trouble!

Up for the biggest blind date of your life? Or think that Mum or Dad deserves to find love? (Particularly Dad, seems they’re short on dads!). If so, get on the case – Love Island for older people? Sign them up!

For single men and women, first impressions play a dominant role, and can often determine whether they decide to start dating. When meeting for the first time, you can create a simple or sweet look and highlight your temperament with exquisite accessories. 

In addition, giving creative gifts can also swing your chances. Scented candles, a few bundles of camellias, or Custom Pens engraved with names, or love lines can all help generate a touch of romance.

Apply HERE

The post Here it is, the Romance Retreat. ‘Love Island’ for older people appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Can we find love in later life? Do we find love? Does it find us? Do we need to love and feel loved, or are we just conditioned to believe so?

I’d felt lonelier INSIDE relationships than I did on my own

We know that humans, like our primate cousins, are social creatures, but does it follow that being alone can’t or shouldn’t be our natural state? And when we are realistically past the stage of becoming parents, do loving relationships become less important or even redundant?

Why do I ask? I’ll tell you. Two years ago, I was 60; a couple of years on from (another) divorce, bumbling along in one of the most peaceful and contented phases of my life. I was happy with my choice to remain single, sharing my bed exclusively with Minnie the dachshund. Horrified at suggestions that I should ‘get back in the saddle’ (euw!) and join some seniors’ dating websites. I’d felt lonelier INSIDE relationships than I did on my own and could happily have stayed single for the rest of my life.

I was ‘self-partnered’, as Emma Watson and Gwyneth Paltrow say, and as smug about it as they were too. Cut to the present and I’ve set up home with Frances, a wonderful woman, and now I genuinely can’t imagine a future without her.

Embracing togetherness

We’ve spent lockdowns together – the first two with my mother. We’ve moved houses twice in three months, yet we haven’t exchanged any cross words. It’s fair to say that neither of us saw this coming, nor were we actively seeking a partner, yet we seem to have found a happiness and stability that we’d both been missing all our lives.

“The way we gaze at each other can be gag-inducing. Some might say we should act our age, whatever that means…”

There’s delicious intimacy, passion, deep respect, and joyful affection alongside the more prosaic and obvious benefits of companionship and mutual support. Surprisingly, perhaps, there’s plenty of the oxytocin-fuelled giggling, hand-holding and private joking we usually associate with young love. The way we gaze at each other can be gag-inducing. Some might say we should act our age, whatever that means…

It’s true of course that at our age – even though Frances is yet to reach my Railcard status – we would be very unlucky not to have experienced something like this before. This is not our first rodeo. In fact, I believe that if we were even 10 years younger, this baggage could cause issues of trust or insecurity.

Yet here, now, our previous experiences are our strength. This is probably because we’re both old and wise enough to have been honest with each other about our pasts. And scrupulously truthful about our parts in them, warts and all, which let us build honest pictures of each other.

This requires work and isn’t always easy, but the older heart recognises the good sense in it, and once dealt with, if there’s total honesty, the past stays in the past and won’t booby-trap the future. And it’s a lot cheaper than therapy, so it’s a win-win.

What must we look like, eh? ‘Darby and Joan’ was the go-to cliché even 20 years ago, conjuring up pictures of a devoted older couple gazing fondly over a port and lemon and a half of mild down the social club, of pipe and slippers, knitting and man sheds, bingo and bunions. Are we Terry and June? Fuck that.

Growing older is new territory – and not just for us.

In our brave new postmodern/Boomer world, the images have shifted noticeably. The ads twinkle at us – motorhomes, cruises, Machu Picchu rather than Bridlington, Ayahuasca over Sanatogen, yoga and facelifts in Turkey. Winters in India, where the pension goes further.

The times are indeed a-changin’

Look at the great bands of our teenage years still selling teenage anthems into their seventies – into our seventies, for God’s sake! Mick and Keef, Stevie Nicks, Pete and Roger still sing of love, but do they mean us? Van Morrison and Bob Dylan sing of new love – for God. Which looks suspiciously more like hedging their bets before their rapidly hastening demise.

“I have fresh blood dancing through my veins, and I want to burn as bright as I can alongside the woman I love.”

I don’t see any of them knocking out tunes about knee replacements or menopause. So are they saying my new love is not rock’n’roll enough? Bollocks! They’re Spandex/Spanx-clad, hair-dyed nostalgia merchants, still preaching at the altar of youth. Great tunes, but anachronisms, like Acker Bilk and Val Doonican in the pop charts of the ‘70s.

This is not a re-run

I’m not going to pretend that I’m now grown up and like opera any more than I appreciate Goa trance or drill – they’re not for me, any more than stamp collecting or colonic irrigation is. I want cultural engagement now, not All Our Yesterdays or repeats of Tales of The Unexpected.

My love feels new, modern, and now. I have fresh blood dancing through my veins, and I want to burn as bright as I can alongside the woman I love. There are still new places to visit, new tastes to explore. New music to dance to and there’s nothing left to prove. I’m secure and liberated by my love, my soul mate, and focus is fixed firmly forward.

There’s no instruction booklet for the next 20 years, so our life from here can be truly bespoke. To get to this age and see and be seen by a woman like Fran feels like a reward for time served. I’m celebrating this life with her as vividly as possible. We’ve nothing left to prove; to ourselves or each other. Our kids have lives of their own, and we’re lucky enough to have a house and enough to get by.

This is not about consolidation, about winding down, not for a second. If neither of us saw this great joy coming, if we believed all this had passed us by, then what other joys await us a little further up the road? What other delicious possibilities are there for us to explore together?

It’s a new love, not like any of the previous loves, so the old rules don’t apply. There’s freedom right there, alongside the experience to be able to appreciate it. How cool is that?

The post Love in later life: we’re more teenagers than Terry and June appeared first on Silver Magazine.

When did you first know it was a big deal?

Liverpool v Atletico Madrid on 11th March. I had tickets to attend with two of my brothers and my nephew. I’d been following the news from Spain, which was on lockdown already, and it seemed odd that 4,000 potentially infected supporters from Madrid were allowed to travel. We discussed it between ourselves, and two of us decided that it would be dangerous to attend. Particularly given that we were to come home to my 85 year-old mother, and my brother had to return to his wife, who has a severely compromised immune system. To be in Liverpool, with a ticket in the hand and watching on the TV instead of being there. That was the moment it all hit home.

What was the first concession you made to the pandemic?

I suppose it was going into voluntary isolation with Mum just after the Madrid game. Mum has a couple of underlying health problems that have left her weakened, which is why she’d come to live with me since January. We didn’t want to take any risks with her health, and my employers were very understanding (Joe’s working on Hollyoaks). They closed down the studios a week later anyway.

Did you panic shop?

I think we were actually quite good… I’d not long done a Costco run, so we had plenty of loo roll, kitchen roll and coffee. The essentials! It was amazing how quickly little networks of friends formed around baking ingredients; we’re no more a nation of shopkeepers but of bakers, it seems. In making sure that Mum had a ready supply of her favourite treat, we do seem to have great many Mini Magnums though.

Who’s in the house?

Well there’s Mum and me, and Minnie the dachshund, and there’s also the amazing Frances…

You see, before the plague descended, I had met and fallen for Frances, and we were in the very early days of a new – and in both our cases – entirely unexpected love affair.

Frances has one of her sons living at her house, and after discussion we decided that, if we were to see each other at all, and with other considerations, it would be best if she – and her son – isolated with me. What could possibly go wrong?

In truth, what some friends were calling a baptism of fire has been – pretty much – one long and enjoyable episode of Bake Off/Masterchef, with honours going mostly to Frances. Mum’s delighted, as she still has a great appetite. It’s all a happy symbiosis, and we’re safe and grateful. Even if Mum now likes Frances more than me.

Do you even bother to get dressed any more?

It’s killing me that I’d got a really sharp look together only to be socially distanced into flour-stained loungewear with hair like a burst couch.

But of course. Spring and autumn are the strongest seasons for menswear. It’s killing me that I’d got a really sharp look together for the season only to be socially distanced into flour-stained loungewear with hair like a burst couch.

I’m trying to keep some stuff box fresh, so I’m down to three costume changes a day. I think the delivery guys know a sharp dresser when they see one. And I’m breaking in some heavy selvedge and Heritage Red Wings at the same time. Workwear win.

How are you stopping yourself going mad?

Cooking, eating well, loving, reading, steering clear of television news and social media as much as possible, shopping online and family quizzes. Little weed in the evening. Mellow.

I’m a pretty good loafer, practiced even, if you consider an actor’s life, and I reckon I’d be good for at least six months before I became unbearable to myself. It’s you lot that are all mad anyway.

What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve done in lockdown?

Halved the sweeteners in my Mum’s tea without telling her. True story. It’s been interesting living with Mum again after 40 odd years, but it will be even more interesting when we don’t have to be in each other’s company all day every day. I’d take a picture of my beautiful Mum right now, but I’d be dicing with death. She hasn’t seen a hairdresser for more than two months. Unprecedented times indeed.

If you could be locked down with three people, who would they be?

If not the three I’m here with, then Harpo, Chico and Groucho Marx, obviously. Or the I-Threes. Or Kraftwerk.

What normal thing do you miss the most?

Sitting at a pavement café with Frances and good friends. But I’m really missing watching the best Liverpool team in years, among the greatest supporters in the world and it feels cruel, some days. I miss the family coming to the house here before we go to the game, I miss the crowd.

What new habits have you picked up that you’ll carry on from lockdown?

I’m in the groove of baking daily bread. I’ll not let it slide again. Who’d have thought that it would be so difficult to get hold of strong flour and yeast? I’m currently eating bread made with flour from Canada and Italy, via the internet.

What’s the first silly thing I’ll do after the lockdown?

It’ll be something at work. I’m itching to get back onto set, back down the soap mines. I miss the folk.

The post My Corona – Joe McGann appeared first on Silver Magazine.

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We always wanted to do print. But when we looked around at some of our competitors and other magazines aimed at the same sort of age group, we saw that mostly they’re purely digital. So we thought perhaps that’s what people want, maybe we should reconsider.

But then we did some research and actually no. It turns out that people still love print.

We love print too. So for us this was exciting to hear. But the key factor here is that although readers were excited about the idea of print, they were also quite keen to have quality. Not flimsy magazines full of the usual nonsense.

So Silver Magazine in print will be a quality glossy publication, by subscription only, and quarterly. It’ll be packed with great features, edgy editorial, incisive interviews, offers, fashion and fast cars… even short stories and competitions, and tons more.

We believe Silver is a magazine people will be proud to share and display. It’s going to be a corker.

So Silver launched in style to our shareholders and stakeholders recently, who are all excited about the print issues. Actor Joe McGann – one of our staunchest allies – was on hand to talk about the challenges faced by the modern 50+ generation, and founder Sam Harrington-Lowe rolled out the plans for the future.

Want to know more?

Subscribe here

The post Taking the plunge – into print… appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Sixty.
6. 0.

What does that even mean these days? Is it cause for celebration? Should I have a wild party like I did when marking the end of my third decade, or should I just keep it on the down low and start Acting My Age, whatever that means.

I googled ‘60th birthday party ideas’, and on the third result of the search, in Birthdayinspire.com, there was this piece of wisdom;

“So, what comes first in our mind when we think of 60th Birthday, is that the Person is turning old, may be the age of retiring, maybe that person is not that much interested in loud things etc…”.

Bollocks. I like lots of loud things, from AC/DC to Hawaiian shirts, and I shall probably never be able to afford to retire, even if they were to stop raising the state pension age just out of my reach. Further down the search results was this, from party-ideas-by-a-pro.com;

“Let’s face it, 60 isn’t considered old anymore. We’re all living longer and the idea of retiring around the age of 60 just isn’t the reality anymore. Nowadays, most 60 year olds still lead very active and sociable lives”.

That’s a little more my sort of thinking. The site goes on to suggest group activity rather than conventional party, which is something I had actually considered. I’ve wanted to go on the long zipwires across the slate quarries in Snowdonia for ages, but there aren’t many of my friends or family into it, so I’ll just do that on my own some weekend soon, with the young people, presumably.

I’m on the threshold of The Third Age, a time of life that can be considered ‘The Golden Years’ of adulthood

In current psychology terms, I’m on the threshold of The Third Age, a time of life that can be considered ‘The Golden Years’ of adulthood. This is usually defined as the span of time between retirement and the onset of age-imposed physical, emotional and cognitive limitations.

Finding freedom again

At an age with fewer responsibilities in terms of family and career, and coupled with adequate financial resources and good physical and mental health, these years offer great opportunity for self-fulfilment, personal engagement and even ‘completion’ if you like that sort of thing.

This is a relatively new concept in human history, and so there is little social understanding as yet, and even less cultural guidance on the subject from the cultural mythmakers- the film makers, novelists, dramatists, artists etc. The true definition is up for grabs, in cultural terms, which means I’m in a pioneering wave, if you like, and this I admit I’m finding exciting and filled with possibilities.

I’m grateful every day for my good health and for the fact that I can still earn a living in a job that I love and which still stimulates and educates me. I’m one of the lucky ones, and I believe I can reasonably expect (with all the usual caveats) at least another twenty, even twenty-five years more and of late I’m beginning to realise that I need to start making some plans if I’m going to get the best out of them.

Old enough to know better, young enough to have fun

I have enough experience to give me a sense of how best to achieve what I need, but also still enough rock and roll to make it interesting. I’m still filled with curiosity about the world, about us humans and our funny ways, and it’s this curiosity I plan to indulge and feed for as long as I’m able to and follow wherever it takes me. Our curiosity is, I believe, the manifestation of the spark of life in our consciousness, “the force that through the green fuse drives the flower” as Dylan Thomas puts it, and we should all regularly give it licence to roam wheresoever it wishes so that we might keep growing.

When I think of what 60 looked like then, I can’t see myself at all. Sitcoms joked about the Darby and Joan club, gardening gloves and bingo

On a personal note, in just a few months I will have lived longer than my Father did. He died at 60 from complications caused to his heart by shrapnel from a German grenade on D-Day. This feels like a big moment to me. Dad passed in 1984, and when I think of what 60 looked like then, I can’t see myself or my generation at all. Sitcoms then joked about the Darby and Joan club, gardening gloves and bingo, false teeth, slippers and tea dances. It will be odd to think that I’ll be older than he ever was…

There was a gulf between us kids and the ‘auld ones’ back then; they called it ‘The Generation Gap’. Times change though, and my daughter is 30 this year and has suggested that we have a mini festival at my house for our two birthdays. Complete with bands, camping and dodgy catering.

The fact that she was prepared to mix her friends and mine, and the fact that the music listened to would often be the same for all ages, marks a real sea change in attitude towards age and what’s age-appropriate. For every article I see about ‘What age should a man stop wearing skinny jeans’, I see pictures of the Rolling Stones pratting about at 74 years old in full drainpipe drag. When they stop, I’ll stop. Maybe.

Anyway, I’ve still not decided whether I’ll party like it’s 1999, and try to recapture years gone by. Or whether I’ll just end up having a reasonably quiet family lunch before heading to Wales and the zip wire. Either way, I won’t feel any more or less grown up, and that’s absolutely as it should be, if I’m any judge.

The post So I’m 60. I’m still not planning to act my age appeared first on Silver Magazine.

Sam Harrington-Lowe

In about 2016, heading fast towards 50, I looked at magazines that were aimed at my age group. In particular I was looking for a good magazine for the over 50s.

It was a bit dismal back then, to say the least. I’ve had a wild ride of a life so far, full of adventure, and the magazines I was looking at were focused on knitting, cooking, gardening… I don’t mind those things, but I wasn’t ready to hang up my spurs yet.

I felt there was a huge opportunity being missed, AND I wanted a magazine that I’d enjoy reading and relating to. So being the sort of person I am, and being the sort of person who loves making magazines, I just decided to launch one myself. As you do.

I didn’t get it all right…

Silver Magazine started life as ‘Senior Moments’, which I thought was hilarious. Until people in our focus groups, who were older than me, pointed out that senior moments might sound funny when you’re in your forties or fifties. But if you’re older and actually having senior moments, it was less amusing. Cue skidding to a halt. I knew instantly that I’d got it wrong.

Sifting through a range of suggestions that included Grey Matter, Midlife Crisis, and even Silver Tops, we settled on Silver Magazine. I’ve always been thrilled with the name, and suspect we only managed to bag it because we were ahead of the curve. These days there is ‘silver’ everything.

We have an amazing team, and brilliant writers

I’m very proud of our in-house team, all of whom are absolutely passionate about Silver Magazine, and now also Silver Lifestyle.

We’ve got some brilliant, challenging writers on board too. Bibi Lynch, Chris Sullivan, Joe McGann, Simon Evans, Julie Burchill, Nick Lezard, Flic Everett, Gustav Temple, Paul Burston, Paul Tierney, and many more all write for us.

Things have changed massively since we launched Silver Magazine

The conversation around ageing and ageism has change MASSIVELY in the past five years or more. It’s very exciting. People are embracing their second lives like never before. It’s been a cultural shift the like of which we haven’t really seen since the rise of feminism.

And I’ve watched as other brands moved slowly away from stairlifts and ‘anti-ageing’, and edged towards the age of revolution that Silver embodies. We have always been pro-ageing, and pro-doing what feels right for you. I am both proud to be leading the way, and thrilled to see the cultural shift.

Who are you?
Our promise to you
Check out the print mags, retreats, and skincare

The post Who are we? Making a good magazine for the over 50s appeared first on Silver Magazine.