What do I Know?

I’ve always got on with people older than myself. Right from the days, as a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, I would hang out with thirty-year-olds. (They were often married, and alcohol/nightclubs were usually involved, so I’d assume it wasn’t just my sparkling company!)

A fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, what sparkling company!

As I went through my twenties, women older than me were more interesting – they just had more (sensible talk) to say.

When I met the woman who became my wife, she was seven years older than me. Funnily enough, she still is 🙂 .

I remember in my twenties and thirties, married or no, I often got the feeling that I was being viewed as some kind of predator by some women. Certainly, after I met my wife, they needn’t have worried – my job was always important to me and I’m far more likely to be thinking about a computer problem than a woman, so I was perfectly content to be a one-woman man.

Child-rearing is something else guaranteed to douse the flames of passion. Why anybody ever had two children was beyond me!

Over the years it became amusing if somebody thought “I’m going to be wary of this guy, because he’s going to try and make a move on me”. It even happens now a tiny bit, which is funnier still. This grey-haired old fart who can’t use his arm and can barely walk!

I’m sure there must be something in this – these women (some men too, I guess) have probably spent a lifetime fending off people looking for the next notch on their bedpost, so have probably developed an “I’m not available” manner. I’m sure vanity comes into things too.

I do find, however, that as I get older it happens less and less. I must be less of a threat! The people I meet tend to be older themselves. Frankly, a new partner is the last thing on my mind, and probably their’s too – why would I risk losing the partner I already have, who has every chance (if she’s lucky) of seeing me through the rest of my days? Besides, knowing somebody so well is fun. And I’ve – and most likely they’ve – been through the whole gene-propagation phase and breathed an enormous sigh of relief when my child finally did fly the nest, and my wife and I got our home back once again. So, there’s just more openness with older people, less innuendo.


My wife (a nurse) told me yesterday that here in the UK, STDs among post-menopausal women are at an all-time high. They can’t get pregnant, so they go for it, unprotected, and… 💥

Fandango’s Friday Flashback – 27 September 2019

Well, it is Friday lunchtime once again, and I’ve had quite a productive morning. Diem, my Diabetes web site – in nearing completion. But more on that later…

I saw in my Inbox a notification from my WordPress friend Fandango. Every Friday, he posts a “Flashback” post, something that he posted on this day in a previous year. The intention is just to give the reader an idea of what he was up to back then.

So, I follow suit. Rather than just reblogging my old post, I wanted to provide a short commentary, complete with links and formatting, and I haven’t worked out if I can do that yet with WordPress’s “reblog” button.

Earlier on in my recovery, I used to be involved with other stroke survivors in a peer support group. It was a very informal affair – we met in a certain coffee shop at a certain time, and just caught up with each other for a few hours.

Peer support is a big deal. When you first come out of hospital, you can’t be bothered with things like computers and you don’t have the strength to get out, so you just sit there in the chair all day, thinking “I’m the only guy who ever went through this”. And you gradually get your head straight enough to use a computer, and your body strong enough to leave the house, and lo-and-behold you realise you’re not alone. That other people have gone before you.

That’s why peer support is a big deal. You’re meeting people precisely because they’ve had the same experience as you.

Our group was very laissez-faire. You either turned up, or you didn’t. I was somebody who did turn up because I think it is important to be consistent. But this state of affairs meant that several times, I turned up on my own. Even getting to this coffee shop was a five-hour roundtrip for me, and if I was going to spend that time sitting on my own… well, I can think of better things to do.

I don’t want to re-gurgitate the original post in my commentary. Plus, there are other posts in the blog which tell more of the story (same category), if anybody is interested. Suffice it to say that I stopped going a year ago. The group presumably folded. I have the contact details of a couple of the guys who went occasionally, but I’m not really in contact. Sad, but people move on. They moved on. I moved on.

The “better thing I could be doing” is developing my own software, which brings me full circle. With one product released, and another almost there, I guess you could say it has worked out okay. And, I still meet with other stroke survivors, by virtue of the charity work I do at the hospital. If one of them sees me, and thinks “I’m not the only guy…”, then it is worthwhile.

With all this in mind, I hope you enjoy the post.

https://strokesurvivor.me.uk/2018/09/27/end-of-an-era/