It all started with the van. I’ve got a van and a bit of time, and once people know that, you’re done for. Suddenly, you’re the guy they call when a fridge needs moving or someone needs a hand with a flat-pack wardrobe. I don’t mind. I’ve always said, if you can help, you should.
I retired 14 years ago now—seems daft saying that out loud. I taught languages for 32 years. Now I spend most of my time hauling crates, laying concrete, or fixing broken things. It’s not glamorous, but it’s useful.
My wife Clem and I volunteer across a few different projects. Our main focus is the Chesham Community Fridge, but we also support the Repair Café, Fairtrade Chesham, and a few others. People sometimes say, “How do you find the time?” Truth is, I’d be climbing the walls if I wasn’t doing something.
At the fridge, I help with the Felix Project deliveries. They bring in huge loads—often more than 500 kilos of surplus food—and we get it sorted, weighed, stored, and ready for distribution. I’m also on the committee, and I’ve done a fair bit of the physical work—putting up sheds, sorting dodgy paving slabs, fixing gates. There’s always something.
The fridge isn’t means-tested. You don’t need a form or a referral. Just show up. Of course, that means you meet all sorts—people down on their luck, single parents, pensioners struggling to get by. And that’s what makes it matter. There’s no fuss, no shame. Just “Here you go, take what you need.”
One memory that sticks with me is from the early days. A woman stood outside crying. Her son explained it was the shame—having to come here after using the food bank. That did something to me. I gave her a hug and said, “There’s no shame in this.” And I meant it. There isn’t.
For me, volunteering is about justice. I don’t care about politics—left, right, centre—it’s all noise. What I care about is why someone in this country, or anywhere, hasn’t eaten today. That’s the stuff that gets to me.
I do a lot of fixing and maintenance at the Repair Café, too. People bring in toasters, lamps, old radios—and I’ll have a go. Sometimes I can fix it, sometimes I can’t. But it’s fun. And if I can save someone a trip to the shop—or the tip—I’ll count that as a win.
We’ve become known around town. People say, “Dai’ll fix it,” or “Dai’s got the tools.” I probably do. I’ve got a ridiculous collection of tools. Even picked up a MIG welder a while back, just for the challenge. Clem says it’s like living with a one-man hardware store.
What I’ve gained from volunteering? Perspective. Patience. And a bit of humility. You realise very quickly how easy it is for life to tip sideways. You also realise how much people want to help, if you just give them a way to do it.
I’ve never done this for recognition. I’m not interested in the limelight. I just like being useful. And I’d rather be lifting crates than sat at home watching daytime telly. It keeps me moving. Keeps me thinking.
If someone asked me why I volunteer, I’d say: because somebody has to. Because there’s food going in the bin while people are going hungry. Because I’ve got two hands and a bit of common sense. And because if you’ve been given a decent life, the least you can do is give some of it back.
If you’re thinking about getting involved, do it. Find something that matters to you. Don’t wait to be asked. Just get stuck in.
And if something needs doing—have a go.
