When Jill Holder, volunteer coordinator, set out to establish Shieldfield’s Memory Café in 2019, she was determined to do things differently. Her inspiration came, in part, from a disappointing visit to a supermarket-run memory café. “They had all this food in the middle of the table, away from where people were sitting… and they went around giving everyone a mug and saying ‘just dive in, help yourself’,” she recalls. “Everything they were doing I thought, well I’m not doing that, that’s how not to do it.” She wanted a place where everyone is welcomed, involved, and treated with dignity.
The concept of a memory café is not new. Across the UK, they offer a safe, supportive environment where people with dementia and their carers can connect, share experiences, and find respite from the isolation that so often accompanies the condition.
The Shieldfield Memory Café takes place every month at the Forum Cafe located within the parade of shops at the heart of the neighbourhood. The approach is personal and purposeful. Every month, the tables are pushed together and draped with tablecloths, china cups and saucers replace everyday mugs, and the atmosphere shifts from the everyday to the special. This isn’t just about aesthetics; it’s a statement that people with dementia deserve beauty, care, and a sense of occasion. It’s a subtle but radical act of respect.
The café’s open-door policy reflects this ethos. While its primary focus is on those with dementia and their carers, nobody is turned away. “We refuse to say other people can’t attend,” Jill insists. “That is what life is, mixing with everybody” This means student volunteers from China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong and elsewhere have come to practise English, mix with older locals and swap stories, and everyone leaves a little richer for the connection.
A neighbourhood that punches above its weight
Shieldfield, a small neighbourhood on the eastern edge of Newcastle city centre, has seen waves of industrialisation, slum clearance, twentieth-century social housing and, more recently, a surge of student accommodation. Today it’s a vibrant patchwork of cultures, generations, and stories – a place where, as one community plan put it, “many new and young families, students, and older residents live alongside refugees and asylum seekers”.
Shieldfield could be labelled an “in-between place” – cut off from Newcastle city centre by the A167(M), not quite Heaton, Sandyford, Ouseburn or Byker. It is often left off city maps, as Jill shows me on a recently published walking map with no mention of the area. Sometimes, if you Google it, you get Sheffield instead. There was no visible road sign to the area but the local community took matters into their own hands, hacking back overgrown shrubs to reveal a forgotten, hidden signpost. It’s a small act, but it speaks volumes: if the city won’t put Shieldfield on the map, the community will do it themselves.
This is clearly evidenced by the thriving community organisations and activities within the modest boundaries. The list of what is going on would be the envy of a larger, more prominent neighbourhood. There is a community garden where people come together to share skills and grow produce; and a free youth programme offering creative outlets for young people; a neighbourhood co-operative that encourages participation in everything from town planning to social events, as well as an annual football tournament that welcomes all ages, genders, and abilities. There is a community pantry supporting those on low incomes; a co-operative laundry supporting elderly and disabled residents, and a contemporary art gallery housing artists’ studios, youth workshops and exhibitions. The list goes on.
A time of resilience
The café’s resilience was tested during the Covid-19 pandemic. With restrictions in place, most community spaces kept their doors closed, but here the volunteers served takeaway food and drinks through the doorway. People stood outside, socially distanced, but determined to maintain some social connection. “We were open during the pandemic… we were serving over the door,” Jill remembers. “The police came to have a look … and said, ‘This is fantastic. I wish everywhere had something like this’.” This was more than just resilience; it was a quiet rebellion against isolation.
Arts collaboration
The Memory Café was started in 2019, but a turning point came towards the end of the pandemic, when The NewBridge Project, a nearby arts organisation moved into Shieldfield and became involved, crucially providing the funding to enhance the work of the cafe and make it a more regular event. Elaine Robertson, NewBridge’s Community Liaison, had hoped to start a dementia café of her own – only to discover the Forum Café’s initiative already existed. Rather than compete, the two joined forces: Jill handling the café, NewBridge facilitating the artists to lead creative sessions.
Each month, a different artist visits. Activities have ranged from painting and pottery to photography and printmaking to name but a few. This month’s activity is decoupage led by community artist Emma Sheridan. The collaboration has not only enriched the programme but also drawn visitors from further afield, thanks to NewBridge publicity.
The café’s reputation has spread beyond Shieldfield. NHS occupational health professionals have visited, impressed by the hands-on activities and the sense of community. ‘We have never been anywhere where people have things to do,’ they told Jill. The Forum Café is now recommended by occupational health as a model of supportive dementia care.
But the impact is felt most keenly by those who attend. For volunteers, participants and carers alike, the cafe offers a rare blend of companionship, creativity, and understanding. The Memory Café isn’t just a support group – it’s a defiant, creative, inclusive response to a world that often sidelines the vulnerable and the overlooked. Its resilience is found in everyday acts of rebellion, from serving tea out of door to insisting on china cups, and in the refusal to let anyone – neighbourhood or neighbour – be ignored. It is, as Jill hoped, “more than just a place where people with dementia are left to fend for themselves”.
