For the next few minutes, yes. I’m writing to one person: you. Not a demographic. Not a made-up “persona” called Glen With Two Labradors. You. Because if you’re still here, we already share something vital—curiosity and a low tolerance for fluff.
I’ve just retired. Not from thinking, not from caring, and definitely not from learning. Yet the moment you step off the treadmill, people behave as if your brain checked out with your staff pass. Ten years ago I was trusted with a £350-million-level responsibility that required calm, precision, and judgment. Today, random strangers decide I shouldn’t be left alone with shoelaces. It’s comic, until it’s insulting.
Let’s talk remotes. There are two of them for one television. I have studied them. One turns something on. The other, I suspect, opens a portal to 2007. My wife handles both like a virtuoso; I supply snacks, praise, and occasional battery changes. Division of labour is a beautiful thing.
I’ve built businesses, made good money, and—on my less glorious days—watched it vanish because I trusted the wrong systems. I relied on Google for everything, got hacked, and learned a painful lesson about building on ground you don’t own. So now I’m doing something different: I’m collecting tools, habits, and ideas that protect your time, respect your intelligence, and sometimes even make money. I test them. I simplify them. I hand you only what passes.
That means I read an outrageous amount of nonsense online so you don’t have to. Picture a friendly bouncer at the internet door. “No sir, not tonight, your article mentions ‘quantum abundance.’ Next.” Every so often I find something genuinely useful you hadn’t considered. I bring it to you neatly labelled, and, yes, sometimes you’ll pay a bit. Not because of hype, but because I’ve just saved you three evenings and a thumping headache. Fair trade beats free rubbish.
I call our stage of life the Grey Zone. Not young. Not old. Seasoned. There are millions of us—smart, solvent, stubbornly curious—yet marketers act like we only buy slippers and insurance. Fine. Let them play elsewhere. We’ll quietly get on with interesting things that make life richer.
I’m a lifelong collector of “nine-day wonders.” Something grabs me, I dive deep, then I move on—cheerfully, without guilt. The internet is perfect for that. My 93-year-old dad calls it the best encyclopaedia he’s ever had. He’s right. You can go from zero to competent in an afternoon, then decide whether to carry on or park it with grace. No drama. No shame.
Current fascinations, since you ask:
- Music. I’m learning on a digital saxophone. It feels like jazz, sounds like progress, and doesn’t cause the neighbours to lodge formal objections.
- Art. I’m gloriously terrible. There’s a deep joy in being bad at something and doing it anyway. Every lopsided pear is a small victory.
- Writing. You’re reading it. I dictate ideas on dog walks; the dog assumes it’s his autobiography. Chapter 7 remains “Ball.”
- Technology. If it helps and is idiot-proof, I’m in. If it starts with “rebuild your Node environment,” I’m out. Life is short; tea is hot.
Two tools that actually earn their keep. Voice Notes—a simple app for catching thoughts before they vanish. Evernote—fifteen years of keeping my chaos in one tidy, searchable place. Also, that phone in your pocket? It’s more powerful than the computers that took Apollo 11 to the moon. So let’s use it for more than photographing soup. Capture ideas. Automate drudgery. Remember things without turning your head into a filing cabinet.
Here’s my offer, stated plainly. I’ll filter the noise and test the good stuff—apps, workflows, small projects you can finish between cups of tea. I’ll write it up in clear steps with no jargon and no cheerleading. If something’s great, I’ll tell you why. If it’s rubbish, I’ll say so and move on. No “limited-time” panic. No condescension. We are not ornaments; we’re adults with standards.
Ground rules for our Grey Zone club:
- Time beats drama. If a tool saves an hour a week, it wins. If it saves twelve seconds but adds a login, it loses.
- Value over “free.” Small spend for big relief is sensible economics.
- Plain speaking. No mystique, no guru voice, no fairy dust.
- Humour on tap. It keeps us honest and cuts nonsense down to size.
I’ll get things wrong now and then. That’s the price of exploring. But I’ll tell you the truth in plain English, without pretending you need hand-holding. You have a brain. A good one. Mine’s still very much in service too. Together we can avoid the traps, pick the winners, and turn “retirement” into the best R&D lab we’ve ever had.
Because this is how good work happens: one human talking to one human. Not blasting content at a crowd. Not pandering. Just useful ideas, delivered with respect.
Now it’s your turn. What do you actually want? Tell me the top one or two things you’d like me to research, build, or test—tools, tiny projects, skill maps, checklists, anything that would save you time or make life more interesting. Drop your requests in the comments so I can prioritise the next batch.
If this was useful, there’s more like it on my Substack, The Old Grey Thinker — join here: https://substack.com/@theoldgreythinker
And seriously—what should I build or test for you first?