There’s a local ‘live at home’ scheme round here which offers support for older people. The group aims to combat loneliness and organises lunch clubs, afternoon teas and day trips for old people living alone. It’s a well-run charity, staffed by a mix of paid employees and volunteers. Together, they help people build new friendships and give them a reason to get out and about. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say it is a lifeline for some – we’re told so often that loneliness is a killer. I’m happy to have been able to give some of my time to such a worthy cause.

But then along came covid. Lockdown, shielding and isolation followed.

Interaction went from groups-round-a-table to one-on-one telephone conversations and occasionally, for the tech-savvy pensioners among us, Zoom calls. Better than nothing, but certainly not the same. During lockdown, I made more than 500 ‘befriending’ phone calls; I made dozens of enquiries into whether Doris/Bertha/Jim/Colin were absolutely certain they had their hearing aids in today, and I made appropriate animated noises at the correct points in Edna/Beryl/Roy/Sam’s stories of yesteryear. I am proud of this work.

When lockdown ended, I began to think a lot about how hard it is to be a volunteer. I don’t mean that it’s hard work being a volunteer, I mean that it’s difficult to become one and once you are one, it’s difficult to carry on being one.

The red tape and the managers and the pen pushers and the restructuring and the wider funding and the forms and security checks and the references and the computer systems. It’s a wonder why anyone volunteers at all.

I came to realise that, with the best altruistic intentions, I have a history of my philanthropic acts being thwarted.

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Let me illustrate.

I have a background in education and I was honoured to become a school governor. I lent my skills to a school, its pupils and staff for many years. That was, until ‘academisation’ came along and the school became a member of a multi-academy trust with CEO, directors, members and trustees who did not like governors asking for unreasonable things like a detailed breakdown of where exactly that money went. So, they restructure and conveniently I no longer ‘fit the vision’. I got sacked for the first time in a 50-year career.  

When I thought about it some more, something similar had happened during my time volunteering with the Royal Voluntary Service too. I was delighted to be able to give my time to a charity with royal patronage and even more so when I was chosen to attend a Royal Garden Party at Buckingham Palace to recognise the work of myself and fellow volunteers. I was a ‘Meals on Wheels’ driver, and delivering the bangers and mash to old people while the gravy was still steaming was only part of the challenge. Keeping up a steady stream of chit chat and remembering the names of the recipient’s gaggle of grandchildren was trickier. All of it was worthwhile though. I felt fulfilled. That was, until a new CEO came in. Swiftly, the culture changed and desire for an overhaul and rebrand saw Meals on Wheels get ditched. Consequently, I managed to get made ‘redundant’ (which I wasn’t even sure was possible from a voluntary role).

Two unrelated occurrences aren’t a pattern, they can reasonably be put down to bad luck. But the bad luck didn’t end there.

I became a driver for Contact the Elderly, a charity organising afternoon teas for groups of older people living alone who have little local family support. I started chauffeuring people to tea parties and then later, I was thrilled to become a host and the ‘Chief Provider of Sherry’. I enjoyed this a lot. That was, until the organiser needed to relinquish her role and sought a successor. One was found, but they promptly resigned too – this time, with no successor. With nobody organising the gatherings, my sherry sat unopened and my driving and hosting services were no longer called upon and I resigned.

This year, I thought a lot about the difficulties other well-meaning individuals must face. I’ve thought a lot about how businesses and organisations aren’t set up to keep the volunteers they have, even though volunteers cost them very little and are often the people most keen to throw themselves into work. I’ve thought about how daft it is that the barriers to helping society – and to effectively strengthening a community – are so infuriatingly high.

Maybe you find this difficult to believe. Try googling ‘volunteer near me’. I hope you find a role where you fit the requirements. I hope you become a long-term contributor to a worthy cause.