In a quiet corner of Oxford, two remarkable women marked a milestone few can imagine—celebrating their 101st birthdays side by side. Josie Church and Anne Wallace-Hadrill, next-door neighbors and friends, have lived beside one another since the 1980s, but their connection runs even deeper: they were both born on 1 April 1924.

Now, more than a century later, they reflect on a life rich in purpose, resilience, and quiet companionship.

“I think life has gone quite quickly,” Josie says with a warm smile. “Anne was very busy when she was younger, so was I, and she was very productive and creative. She did a lot of painting and tapestry, and she was always busy. I was always busy doing something else, somewhere else, because that’s the sort of life we lived.”

That busyness, it turns out, was filled with meaning. Both women continued to pursue volunteering and creative passions long after the loss of their husbands—finding strength in service and, eventually, friendship.

Anne, a former lexicographer for the Oxford English Dictionary, served as a radio mechanic in the Women’s Royal Naval Service during the Second World War. “I was always interested in words. It was my trade,” she explains. Her academic journey began at St Hilda’s College, Oxford—an all-women’s institution at the time. Of university life, she remembers, “We weren’t forbidden from seeing men. We were expected to live decent lives.”

After the war, Anne married historian John Michael Wallace-Hadrill, whom she met at a family gathering. She fondly recalls her long and fulfilling career, and just last year, received a long-overdue medal from the Royal Navy for her wartime service.

Josie, originally from Manchester, trained as a nurse at Preston Royal Infirmary and vividly recalls the birth of the NHS. “Training was three years of hard work,” she says. Her work during the war brought her face to face with some chilling moments—including caring for captured SS soldiers. “They weren’t very nice,” she says. “They didn’t wish to be taken care of by us.”

She later moved to Oxford with her husband, Peter, so he could resume his studies at University College after serving in the war. There, they experienced the unique post-war blend of mature students and school-leavers. “Oxford was very strange,” Josie recalls. “Each college had a large intake of older people who’d gone through the war.”

Josie worked, raised a family, and supported her husband in his role as a housemaster at a boys’ boarding school, where she served as the house nurse for 120 boys—calling those years “interesting” and filled with activity.

Both women have three children and maintain close ties with their families. They speak not only of longevity but of the deep-rooted support found in their community. “We live in the most amazing road,” says Josie. “It’s like one big, extended family. Everybody knows everybody else. If you have a problem, you just give a shout, and somebody will come.”

When asked for their secret to a long life, the answer is as refreshingly simple as it is profound. “Just live,” Josie says. “There’s not much you can do. You just go on from one thing to the next.”

“You do what seems to need doing, and then you do that, and then something else takes its place. You just go on from one thing to another. We don’t engineer our lives. I think they’ve just engineered us.”

Their story is a gentle reminder that longevity is not found in formulas, but in the rhythm of meaningful work, enduring friendship, and community.

In the words of these centenarians, it’s not about planning every step—it’s about showing up for life, and letting life show up for you.