How befriending an elderly RAF veteran completely changed my outlook on life

Britain has an ‘age-segregation’ problem according to a new study, but, as I’ve experienced, there’s so much to gain from talking to people of different ages

Britain is one of the worst countries in the world when it comes to intergenerational friendships, according to a new report from social enterprise United for All Ages. And it’s getting worse, with politics, house market trends and technologies only increasing the divide between age groups.

I have certainly benefited from widening my friendship net. In 2016 I signed up as a “befriender” with Age UK. As volunteering goes, it couldn’t really be a lower effort. It’s simply agreeing to spend an hour a week in the company of an elderly person who’s feeling a bit lonely.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect – I suppose the worst-case scenario would be someone a bit grumpy, or perhaps with disagreeable views (a risk with any generation!) As it was, I met Michael.

A retired member of the RAF, Michael was Welsh, widowed, and could charm the birds from the trees. “Hello, sweetheart,” he’d say in his soft accent when he opened the door. He might have been slow on his feet, but he was funny, an excellent storyteller, and adored being teased.

He was unfailingly polite, always checking in on my work and family life. He’d lived all over the world, and raised three children who he was immensely proud of. While he could spin a great yarn about riding his bike as a child, or meeting his wife for the first time, he was equally interested in the here and now – what his family were up to, game shows and the exploits of his football team, Peterborough United.

The visit I’ll most remember was just after the Brexit result. I was feeling pretty devastated – angry, frustrated and resentful. Michael was stoic. Not that he disagreed with me – I got the impression (although he never went into details) that as someone who had travelled the world, he wasn’t necessarily against the EU. More that there was a sense that he’d seen it all before – and worse.

That’s one of the benefits of being friends with someone considerably older. They’ve experienced a lifetime of their own trials and grievances, and – while it might not result in the same views as your own – it often leaves them less rattled when things don’t go their way. It’s a cliché, but he seemed to really know the things that mattered – namely health, family and friends. It’s something that was good for me to be reminded of on a weekly basis.

I continued my visits to Michael after a fall left him in hospital, then a care home, then a hospital again. Then, almost two years after our first cup of tea, he was gone. At his funeral, I had a strange sense of familiarity with his relatives – some of whom lived abroad so we’d never met before – having heard all about them so regularly.

Since he’s been gone, I think about Michael a lot. I know he’d be tickled to think he was getting a feature in a paper (and I look forward to sending this to his family). But I tend to think of him most often when things are challenging – when politics is depressing and the world is full of alarming news. I think of his sense of calm, of having seen it all before. Of the knowledge he’d gained after more than eight decades: sometimes all you need is a cup of tea and a chat with a friend.