Lynden's blog: How I Found Community (and a Reason to Bake More Cake)

Volunteering, community and finding purpose beyond the day job.

Volunteering is one of those things people can assume is all halo-polishing and noble sacrifice, but honestly, half the time it’s just me, in my work clothes, pedalling furiously on a static bike for ten minutes while colleagues cheer me on like I’m in the Tour de France. There’s nothing glamorous about it. My thighs burn, my hair does something unholy, and the bike seat is definitely designed by someone who hates joy. And yet—I walk away feeling lighter, brighter, and weirdly proud of myself. Ten minutes of effort, a few pounds raised for charity, and suddenly the day feels a little more meaningful. That was me at work the other week.

That’s the thing about volunteering: it gives back in ways you don’t expect. You show up thinking you’re doing something small for someone else, and you leave feeling like you’ve secretly pocketed the real reward. It’s a bit like emotional cashback.

Once a month, I trade the office bike for something far more scenic: the Western Heights in Dover. If you haven’t been, imagine a sprawling Napoleonic-era fortress perched above the town, complete with dramatic ditches, hidden corners, and views that make you forget you’re technically doing manual labour. The preservation volunteer team works to conserve and protect this extraordinary site, from the Drop Redoubt fort to the miles of historic defences that once guarded Dover from invasion. They’ve spent years clearing, restoring, researching, and opening the site to the public through tours and events, all powered by people who simply care enough to show up and get muddy.

So, on one Sunday each month, I join the crew to help keep the vegetation down, tidy up paths, and make sure visitors can enjoy wandering the cliffs and exploring the fort without being swallowed by brambles. There’s something grounding about it—hands in the earth, wind off the Channel, the quiet satisfaction of seeing a path you’ve cleared open up into a view that feels like a reward. And knowing that this place, with its centuries of history and its slightly wild charm, is being preserved for future wanderers makes the bramble cut feel almost poetic – well, that’ what I am telling myself! I get to swap the office attire for a bright yellow high Vis vest and usually end up with some sort of vegetation stuck to my hair.

The team has achieved incredible things over the years, transforming what was once a neglected, deteriorating site into a space that now hosts tours, open days, and community events which I am excited to be a part of. Their work has helped slow decades of decline and bring the fort back into public awareness, all through the steady, persistent power of volunteers who believe heritage is worth saving. Being even a tiny part of that feels like plugging yourself into something bigger—history, community, purpose, and the simple joy of doing something that matters. As a bonus, I have met some amazing people from all walks of life who I thoroughly enjoy the company of and get to have laughs and exercise at the same time.

And even though I’m still the newbie of the group, they’ve made me feel like I’ve been part of the crew for years. There’s no hierarchy, no office politics, no one trying to out‑expert anyone else — just a bunch of good humans turning up because they care. It’s refreshingly simple. Everyone mucks in, everyone laughs, everyone gets equally scratched by brambles. I’ve even acquired a brand‑new audience to test my baking experiments on, which feels like a win for both community spirit and my ongoing quest to perfect a lemon drizzle. It’s rare to find a space where you can be useful, welcomed, and entirely yourself all at once, but somehow this team manages it effortlessly.

And that’s really the heart of it. Volunteering doesn’t have to be grand or time-consuming. It can be ten minutes on a bike or a day with a pair of gloves and a stubborn patch of ivy. It can be sweaty, silly, peaceful, or unexpectedly profound. But every time, without fail, it gives me more than I put in. A sense of connection. A sense of contribution and pride. A sense that even in the small moments, I’m helping to make something better.

And honestly? That’s worth every pedal stroke and every nettle sting and looking very unglamourous in the high Vis work vest. Now, I need to plan what baking experiment to conduct this month.

Lynden works in investment banking but outside of the corporate world she’s a meditation coach, mum to two fur babies, a lover of crystals, sound therapy & sparkling wine. Currently writing her next book and being inspired by living on the coast.

Tags:
• Wellbeing