In a community hall in Dublin’s north inner city, dozens of people aged from their late 60s to their late 80s dressed as witches, wizards and superheroes gathered for a Thursday afternoon knees-up.
They were attending a Friends of the Elderly Halloween bonanza on Bolton Street for its service users, many of whom find companionship there.
Potentially just weeks out from a general election, it was here that the concerns and issues of those in the upper age bracket were aired.
Wearing a long bright red wig, Bridie Bolger, an 88-year-old living in an apartment on Gardiner Street, says she would be lost without Friends of the Elderly.
“None of us are quiet when we get a few of them,” she says, through a laugh, of the near-empty glass of sauvignon blanc she’s brandishing.
Living alone in the city centre, her main concern in the lead-up to the general election is homelessness, something she sees every night.
“I look out at them sitting on the side path at night, it’s very sad,” she says, holding a folded tenner in her hand.
“I see loneliness and sickness, and they have nowhere to put their head down because they feel out of place. They’ve lost everything.”
A self-professed Sinn Féin supporter, the party can “always” count on her vote. It talks to the “ordinary” people of Ireland, she says.
“You can go to them if you need help,” she adds, before handing a volunteer the tenner for five raffle tickets.
Ms Bolger, who worked for decades as a cleaner, including at the GPO, returns to the conversation, adding that it is a “fiddle” that the party has not been in government yet.
While some may count down the days until they can practise their democratic right to vote, others have a different view.
“I’m here to enjoy myself, not talk about the general election,” says a woman dressed as Harry Potter, sitting and smiling as others danced to Sherry by The Four Seasons.
Sitting nearby, 84-year-old Maura Doyle from Kilbarrack has been coming to Friends of the Elderly since her husband died in 2008.
“My husband was an army man so we were always Fianna Fáil and I’ve never changed. Mam and dad were the same,” she says.
This voting pattern won’t change in the upcoming election, “if I get there”, she says, laughing. “I have no complaints at the moment,” she adds.
Although more keen to speak about hurling, Timmy, a 75-year-old who wished to give his first name only, believes the State pension should be means-tested, one of the more controversial views in the room. “It’s too much for some, there’s some people who can’t spend it, they’re in my complex and they might have €100,000 saved up.
“Some of them had fairly good jobs and now they can’t spend it, and they could be saving €200 a week,” he says. “I can’t even spend what I’m getting now.”
Anthony Crosbie, meanwhile, an 84-year-old living in the north inner city, says getting by on the State pension is “very difficult”.
“I’m only just surviving, it’s very hard,” he says, his paralysed right arm lying by his side.
“I’m struggling, and at my age, you need a bit of heating,” he adds, saying his monthly bills range from €300 to €400, on top of €400 rent.
His apartment is prone to damp and mould, he says, attracting silverfish which he sprays with insecticide.
Crime is another concern, as his apartment has been broken into multiple times while out, during which personal possessions and food were stolen from his kitchen press, he says.
Immigration, meanwhile, is mentioned by Crosbie and several others, including 69-year-old Angela Caffrey from Finglas. She believes the country simply cannot cope, and she worries about the housing prospects for younger generations.
Caffrey has been receiving cancer treatment every three weeks for more than two years. “I’m treatable but I’m not curable,” she says, adding that the public care she receives is “brilliant,” though she knows “A&E and all that is different”.
She used to be a Sinn Féin voter, but believes the party has “gone to s***e.”
“I thought they were for the people but now I think they’d just say anything to go up the ladder,” she says and now believes none of the political parties are “for the people”.
Monnie, who is in her late 60s and also wished to give her first name only, described Friends of the Elderly as a “lifeline”, saying she feels that older people are “devalued” elsewhere, particularly in the political sphere.
Inheritance tax is on her mind.
“I paid tax all my life while I was working,” she says. “Why should I, after I leave this world, have my grandchildren to pay for what I leave them?”
Dressed as a witch, and moving in closely to speak over a blaring rendition of Monster Mash coming from the speakers, she believes it is time for a change.
“The parties that are in at the moment, I’ll put a spell on them, they’re a big no-no,” she says, laughing.
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