The wrinkles are fierce by the age of 90. They're etched into fragile skin, eloquent reminders of a life well-lived.
Don Bruce, aged 98, says old age isn't so bad. He lives alone, walks every day and plays golf often - only not on Saturdays, he's been told he's too slow.
Ethne Webster is 96. She also lives alone, relying immensely on her neighbours, including for that time she fell in the garden and they heard her calls for help.
Alex McLean is 93. He says one of his happiest days was the day his first child was born. The saddest, aside from losing his wife, was the day that little boy drowned in a creek at the age of three.
Audrey Dargan is "91-and-a-half". She has always lived life on her own terms. As a child during the Depression she learnt to have an independent ferocity she never let go of.
These are the stories of four Canberrans who have lived incredibly full lives. In their twilight years life has become more difficult, but they seem at ease with that.
Mr Bruce is quite fit for his age. He's always been sporty, he says.
"I think I've played just about every sport, including ice hockey," he says, talking about cricket, AFL and golf.
In his younger days, he studied as a chemical engineer and made bombs in the war. He says he tries not to think about that time in his life. He's now taken up dancing, busting moves each week as part of a Woden Community Service seniors group. It's one of the weekly activities that helps keep him from getting lonely.
"To tell you the truth, I'm getting a little bit lonely now. I've been more active before. For the last three days I've been on my own and I've thought, this is pretty rough."
But old age really isn't that bad," he says.
"It's been very good to me. I feel I've not been put back in any way because I'm old. I've had a few warnings perhaps."
Mrs Webster is 96 years old. She was born in Sydney and lived in a one-bedroom house with her parents and three siblings until she got married - to the neighbour.
"We didn't have much money, but we survived. Actually I'm the only one that's survived," Mrs Webster says.
A bit later in life she spent her time playing the organ at the Catholic Church at Padstow (despite not being a Catholic). It's one of her favourite memories.
"I don't like getting old but I can't do anything about it," she says. "My doctor says I'll be here until I'm 100."
"Take it as it comes," she advises.
Mr McLean says people are living "a little bit too long" these days. He says modern medicine keeps them alive, but it's not fun when the body starts wearing out.
"That's what's happening to me," he says. "I take all this medication that keeps me going, but the body is wearing out. I wouldn't want to live much longer now."
Mr McLean has a degenerative disease which affects his legs and hands. He gets around on wheely walkers inside and a scooter outside. He says he rarely goes anywhere except for medical appointments, but he does enjoy using his scooter to rake up the leaves in his garden - he uses it a bit like a tractor on a very small farm.
Mr McLean was born in Hilston, a small town in western New South Wales. His "claim to fame" was being the first child born in the brand new Country Women's Association maternity home on June 29, 1926.
He says the hard times during the Depression prepared him for anything.
"We were just getting over the Depression when World War II broke out. I had two uncles joined up, my father was too old to join so he was supervising their small farms so I went home to help."
He worked for years without any wage while his uncles were at war to keep the family farms going, so when he fell for the girl next door, he couldn't afford a wedding.
"I actually pointed this out to her, I gave her the opportunity to walk away but she stuck around."
His wife Helen died in 1998 from a blood clot after surgery. It was four months after they moved to Canberra to be closer to their daughters. He has three surviving children. His son runs the family farm.
Mr McLean says attitude is important.
"I still miss my wife, I will forever, but I'm not lonely. I make a point of becoming friendly with all the volunteers, the Meals on Wheels people, community transport people and particularly the community nurses. That's what makes my day to day worth living."
Mr McLean says he's lived a full life.
"Regrets? I haven't any, there's no point in that."
At 91 years old, Audrey Dargan agrees there is no point in having regrets.
"How can you have regrets? I heard Paul Hogan say 'how lucky can one person be', and I have to say that. How lucky can a frail kid from 1928 be to have had this life."
Ms Dargan moved into her home in Aranda in 1974 and doesn't want to leave, despite mounting pressure from her family. It is her happy place, she says.
She has the most infectious giggle, and she giggles a lot.
Life hasn't always been easy for Ms Dargan. She has suffered at times from poor mental health.
Ageing hasn't been too much of a problem though because she's never really felt like she fitted in, she says.
"I don't understand why, I just didn't want the things that other people wanted... My best male friend thinks I'm narcissistic and I think he's probably right."
There's that giggle.
"I'm laughing because in a way it saved me. That's why I didn't marry and have children.
"Looking back I think I should've gone to Headspace and got it sorted out, but there was nothing like that. I tried to pull myself out of it."
Nowadays she starts every day with what she describes as "like a hug" - it's a call from the Red Cross.
"They ring at eight o'clock every morning to see that I'm still alive."
"It's voluntary, I don't pay for it. It's an amazing service for older people. What I've found is I'm always up before they ring, so it's got me in a routine."
Ms Dargan says she wishes she'd known the benefits of exercise then like she does now.
She says exercise and learning are what life is all about.
"I feel like I've had a good slice of life. It's been wonderful and crazy."