With her hundred years of life, Ankie Lindgreen is proud to be the oldest physiotherapist in the Netherlands. She worked full-time until her retirement and always had a good life, she says. Sappelen was never there. From her richly decorated apartment with five rooms on four floors in the hilly Berg en Dal, she has a magnificent view over the lower Ooijpolder and the large garden around the service flat. On the windowsill next to her chair is a pair of binoculars with which she closely monitors the gardener’s activities this day. She likes to have fun and likes to play hard to get† For example, she does not intend to answer every question that is presented to her well and in detail.
What is it like to be 100 years old?
“Same as 99 years.”
And that means?
‘That I still water the plants every day, make coffee and tea, and check whether the outside door is locked in the evening. Then I have a walk with my great friend the walker. And I take care of the household.’
Do you still do everything yourself?
“No, I’m watching my maid Coby go around the house.”
What are you missing that you can no longer do?
‘Be able to sit in another chair. From the standing chair in which I now sit, I cannot see the Ooijpolder, but only the front garden. I sometimes accidentally sit in that other window seat, then I spend hours trying to get out of it. My knees don’t work very well anymore.’
So you can use a second senior chair
“I will when I’m 105.”
Do you still have a little fun in life?
‘Oh yes, why not? I enjoy doing everything. I especially like to look outside, there is always something happening there. The only thing that doesn’t work so well anymore is my voice, it has become a bit soft.’
She takes the binoculars. “Let’s see what’s happening downstairs.”
After a careful look: ‘The gardener has now finished weeding the patch.’
And then: ‘I was looking forward to turning 100 and thought that once it got there, it would be done. But I’ve been one for many weeks now.’
I heard you are loved here in the service flat for your cheerfulness and humor.
‘In love? No, that’s over. I now love flowers and plants. And have lunch with my cousins. At half past four on Friday there is a drink down here. It used to be more fun, because there were more men there. I can have good conversations with men. The drink still tastes good.
‘I am a HBS-B person, of mathematics and all other science subjects. Then you don’t like to gossip. With my friends, who are all dead, I should actually say, I never did that. ‘Gossiping harms your people’, was a saying shortly after the war. I always tell everyone the truth straight to the face. An HBS-B person is sober. But I’m not always like that.’
When are you not sober?
“When I sleep.”
She takes out her binoculars again and studies an old linden tree. ‘Look, it’s running out, but can you see the bald top? I wonder if anything else will happen there.’
Did you have a girl’s dream and did it come true?
‘I wanted to become a general practitioner and that is why I went to study medicine in Groningen after the hbs-b. There weren’t many female students at that time, but that was nothing special to me. I grew up in a family with five boys, so I was used to something.
‘I lived in rooms and was a member of the Vindicat atque Polit student association. We had hazing, but not as spicy as today. In 1943 the university closed and I had to discontinue my studies. I never became a general practitioner.’
Was that a disappointment?
‘New. It was war, so everyone had their disappointments to deal with. I immediately started doing another course in Utrecht: remedial gymnastics and massage, and then physiotechnics in Amsterdam. I started working as a physiotherapist, first in a hospital in Enschede and later in a practice in Nijmegen and here in Berg en Dal. I worked full time until I retired. I manipulated all patients. How did I do that? That’s classified.’
So you were not, like many women of your generation, fired as soon as you got married?
‘No of course not.’
That happened all the time at the time.
“Nothing like that will happen to me.”
Living in rooms was also exceptional for a young woman, most stayed at home until they got married.
‘Really and truly? I don’t have to think about that! Gjin gjalp. That’s Frisian for nothing.’
Who was your great love?
‘My De. That’s what I called him, actually his name was Wim.’
What attracted you to him?
“It’s none of your business, haha.
‘He was a nice, tall man. He also studied at university. I thought that was important because I also wanted to become something. If a man wanted to have a chance with me, he had to agree.’
You weren’t a life behind the counter.
‘Oh no, I wanted to be my own boss. I made good money, otherwise I could never have lived here.’
Was Dé your first and only love?
(mischievous laugh) ‘You have to have a bit of variety. This way you discover who suits you and who doesn’t. Shortly after our first meeting, Dé had to go to Indonesia for work. He was an engineer and had to work on an entire village in Java, such as the construction of roads. At that time we wrote each other letters, very pleasant letters. I didn’t keep them.’
Have you been waiting for him?
“He had another one for a while, and so did I. During a ski holiday in Austria I met a Swede, Helger Landström. He could paint well. When Dé returned from Indonesia after two years, he immediately sought me out. I mistook him for his brother Jan, because he wore a mustache. Dé didn’t have to make any effort to recapture me, because it was clear from the first moment that it was a good fit between us.’
There seems to be a drawing of a mountain landscape in your house, which the Swede made for you.
‘Who told that? I got caught, haha.’
What do you think is the most important change of the past century?
‘That we women have something to say these days, and not just the men. By the way, everyone listened to me at work, even in the hospital.’
What kind of family did you grow up in?
‘My father was a pastor of the Reformed Church. I often played organ during the service. He was a good father, strict on his time. He has been married three times. His first wife died in childbirth, baby Hans survived. He married Cornelia, my mother. She died when I was 2 years old. I was raised by his third wife, my second mother Helena. With her my father had another daughter and four sons. There were nine of us living in Grootegast (in Groningen, red.† We were well off, even during the war there was plenty to eat. From the cities they came to the north begging for food.’
Did you miss a biological mother?
‘New. My second mother was like a real mother to me. She treated me like the other children and never discriminated. In addition to her own five children, she took care of two children from two other mothers, Hans and I. I used to play a game with her and say, “You’re not my mother!” mean huh? Then Helena would be in tears.’
Would you have liked to become a mother yourself?
‘It was not a conscious choice not to have children. You can’t miss what you don’t know. Luckily I have a nice family. My brothers and sister are no longer alive. I do have two sisters-in-law and many cousins. So that will be an expensive funeral.’
She peers out again for a moment.
‘My first mother is from the Blooker family, from the Blooker cocoa factory in Amsterdam, you know that name, don’t you? The brand still exists. She was friends with Princess Juliana. They studied together, I don’t remember exactly what. When I married Dé in 1955, I wanted to do it in honor of my mother in the Julianakerk in The Hague. Queen Juliana often went to church there. We managed to get permission for that. My father was allowed to bless our marriage.’
You are quite short of material, do you save your voice or do you not like to expose yourself?
‘I’m a Frisian, she doesn’t tell everything. If I give short answers to your questions, I can quickly move on with my thoughts. Please add at the end of this interview: Ankie is a bit old.’