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“You could practise being grumpy from age 60 up but the Golden Age for grumping is 70 up.”
― Anne Schlebusch, Bloomer

“They looked at each other and enjoyed a chain of grins. They liked the idea of being Bloomers. It was a totally apt and enticing term. Fun, lively, taking them forward. Their own word. Lekker!”
― Anne Schlebusch, Bloomer

“Wasn’t it indeed a time to plant a new society for the oldies? Take them out of their glass cabinets. They’re not only feel-good ornaments. Sad old hug machines. They aren’t the moth-balled walking-dead. Take them out of their pre-coffins. Cultivate everything that would add value to their lives. Believe in agency.”
― Anne Schlebusch, Bloomer

“I’m actually an old woman, no more arsing around with faking youth. The world could see my wrinkles and dodder a while back. I’m only a spring chicken inside my deluded brain. On the outside, I’m a chicken-neck. Not a chick anymore. Just an old bird.”
― Anne Schlebusch, Bloomer

“Old folksâ€� kind of night. Hello, the wee hours. And that refers to the loo, too. The wee hours and the wonky bladders. Like a newborn.”
― Anne Schlebusch, Bloomer

“Mags continued: “I know it might look disrespectful for people to be standing among the gravestones but, to be honest, we old folk look at gravestones as our welcome mat to the next world and let’s not pretend we are heading anywhere else. Applies to all of us, of course, but we’re just a lot closer to it than you are.”
― Anne Schlebusch, Bloomer

“When had they started to talk about booking into a retirement place? Was it in their early sixties? Starting to worry about places being full? Peer pressure? Turning the dimmer switch on their lives.”
― Anne Schlebusch, Bloomer

“Maggie was surprised to find her heart flipping. At 70 you think that’s all over. You’re too creaky, too selfish, too afraid of infirmity, too focused on staving off dependency, too focused on your unreliable knees and your wobbles on the stairs. Too farty.”
― Anne Schlebusch, Bloomer