I've been lucky enough to spend the past week or so in the company of some very fine women. Away for a hockey trip, I've bunked up with four teammates, five of us in a four bedroom apartment with a living room and a smallish kitchen, two bathrooms. You would think, without giving too much away - for what goes on tour stays on tour - that it would be a recipe for disaster. All this close-up living, for me in particular, who spends a lot of time in a decent sized house on her own.
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But it's been great. Dinner gets done, washing makes it to the line, dishwasher is emptied, cups of tea made at the end of a long day. We check on each other to make sure water bottles are filled and the right colour socks are packed, there's always milk in the fridge, and a cold beverage.
![The Golden Girls' group living arrangement was ahead of its time. Photo: NBC The Golden Girls' group living arrangement was ahead of its time. Photo: NBC](/images/transform/v1/crop/frm/silverstone-ct-migration/0a687aec-4a5c-45de-868d-ed48913de3ee/r0_0_1427_1066_w1200_h678_fmax.jpg)
Indeed we're running like a well oiled machine. If only the same could be said for our on field organisation. Maybe we should be focussing on that.
We joke around the dinner table about the idea of communal living. About whether the idea of living with a group, even a mixed group, might be one way to spend our twilight years.
And it's interesting that this concept has been in the news lately.
There was a story about a group of friends with plans for a unique retirement plan. They're looking to design their own purpose-built apartment concept which would give them their own space but access to communal areas like kitchens and cinemas, even access to health-care facilities.
And another about three couples living quite happily in a share house arrangement.
I have mixed memories about group house living. It's all about finding the right people. Sometimes friends make the worst house mates. But sometimes house mates become friends. Could I do it now? I don't know.
But then I remember The Golden Girls. Who didn't love that show? That's the kind of shared house arrangement I'd be after in my golden years.
Or like the one in Big Love. But that's a totally different story.
One of the things I've enjoyed this week is having people to care for again. Sure I care for my children. Dearly. But it's been fabulous being able to pop a big bowl of pasta in the middle of the table, a salad, a wine bottle, and have adult conversation.
I miss that. Dearly.
And I think that's what many people would miss, once their family home is empty of, well family.
And perhaps group living would go some way to compensating for that.
Perhaps however this discussion should extend further. While there are stories about people looking for housing options, there are just as many about women who, once they reach midlife, who are faced with the prospect of homelessness.
Women over 55 are the fastest growing sector of the homeless community. Life events have thrown them a curve ball, the death of a spouse, a divorce, domestic violence … women find themselves with no savings, little superannuation, perhaps even without a paying job if they've had caring responsibilities. They can't keep the family home, or they've fled the family home, and more and more are being faced with the prospect of having nowhere to live.
The NSW Government has recently announced a social housing drive that will target older women, part of a $1.1 billion housing fund that will deliver 3000 extra homes for those in need.
This idea got me thinking about what housing options would suit older women. Not even older women. Just women.
What would I put into a complex if I had the reins of the design process?
There'd have to be options. Stand alone houses, houses to accommodate group living, pods of private space around communal areas, big kitchens, bigger dining tables.
There'd have to be open green spaces, somewhere to grab a coffee or a wine, playgrounds for the kids, or grandkids, facilities to keep everyone moving and active and healthy.
But most importantly there'd have to be a sense of community. Neighbours to keep an eye on you, friends who would care for your kids occasionally, people you'd be happy to pick a few things up at the shop for, people to care for, and who cared for you.
I can only imagine what it must be like for women faced with the prospect of homelessness. For me, the real fear would be thinking I didn't belong anywhere. That I had no home, in the sense of the word that goes well beyond walls and a roof.
It's a concept, in these past few years of upheaval, that has become more important to me than ever.