Like women, older people are confronted by a great number of expectations about how they are supposed to be, or not to be and what they are supposed to do and not to do. It’s possible, and perhaps easier than initially expected, not to go with the flow but it requires a bit of thought to separate the biologically reasonable from mere force of social habit; not to accept unjustified restrictions or limitations but to go on exploring and enjoying oneself and the world and developing, while at the same time giving due consideration to the demands made by having to work with version 7.1 rather than 2.5 (some useful performance improvements but unfortunately at the expense of a certain deterioration of core functions).
As a participant in the onward dance of the 68 generation towards silver power, I struggle with myself to overcome the increasing horror of the new, which tends to accompany ageing, to counteract the “every time I hear the word upgrade, I reach for my gun” attitude. I have made some progress since my first tussle with automatic store check-outs in the UK where the machine frightened me by bellowing “alien object in the bagging area” and I am now sufficiently adept that I more seldom experience the flies-to-a-jampot helpfulness of some staff when catching sight of a silver top. But I am still struggling with my attitude to Mac computers. I feel that a modern person should like them or at least be able to use them competently and so from time to time I have a little Mac spasm trying fitfully to work up a bit of enthusiasm, this post inspired by a just concluded session with my wife’s Mac, which ended by it deriding me by starting to croon music I couldn’t stop (I am NOT going to Scarborough Fair and I do not want to remember you, musical Mac). I want to be a modern man but it’s hard to concentrate when you’re grinding your teeth at the same time as your hair is standing on end.