Dear John, please take this as it’s intended

- a well-meaning kick up the backside!

I've known you for 50 something years, and we’ve never really talked about the big stuff. I don't know if you still hold on to the faith we were both brought up in. I don't know if you’ve retained some vestiges of faith - or have no faith at all.

I don’t how you feel about having never married and never having kids. Except I gather how fond you are of your nieces and nephews, so the next generation is important to you - hence your stellar green credentials.

Most of the things you do talk about are either work/tech related, entertainment or politics - but none of it seems personal. I don't understand you. You are godfather to one of my boys (and you’ve been a much better godfather than I was to any of my godchildren, in terms of remembering birthdays and giving Christmas presents and so on - thank you!) BUT - it's 24 years since that whole “Do you reject Satan” stuff - and we’re probably more strangers now than we were then.

I have no idea how your mind works. For instance - why do you still have all of your late parents’ belongings crammed into your flat? (It’s been decades!)

We don’t really communicate much at all. Feelings, hopes, ideas for the future - all seem to be out of bounds. I know you have some regular routines - a weekly Tai Chi class - and you catch up with your siblings at holiday times, but life is just careering along. And it’s as if you’re waiting for something to happen. Are you hoping for your health to suddenly improve, or for a new love interest to magically appear, or for your parents’ furniture to find a new home for itself? What is it exactly you are waiting for?

Perhaps I felt by asking you to be a godfather, you would develop a bigger social circle. At the christening, you met a friend of my wife who seemed to take to you and we thought everything was coming good. But no, that wasn't to be.

Your choice, not Linda's friend. So, I suppose you felt a few dates were enough. You've been doing your own thing forever, and that's great, as long as it’s brought you happiness.

One thing that must make it harder for us to relate to each other these days is the fact that you spend all your time working - the usual reason given for you being late to anything we get together for - and I don't work at all now.

I am a bit baffled by your dedication to work - because it's not as if it’s your own company. I'm not even sure that you get paid particularly well. It just doesn't seem to be a rewarding way to spend your time - unless you enjoy finding solutions to knotty problems and writing bits of code to fix these glitches? I guess work isn’t only about the paycheck. And I suppose it shows we're very different - you seem to do lots of work hours you don't bill for. Maybe that means there are times you feel you could be more efficient? I’m just trying to understand.

So, is this particular job important to you? Do you really enjoy it? I thoroughly enjoy my volunteering - but I couldn’t do it full time. Perhaps I’m a bit jealous that you still have the concentration and energy required to work at a screen all day.

I just think you could do more with your life if you wanted to. I know that sounds terribly condescending or even manipulative. But I’ve suddenly realised why I’m writing this: I had a bit of a pang of guilt - or maybe just sadness - when I heard about Jim's friend, another man our age, also unmarried, who just didn’t wake up one morning.

It seems he’d been living for his work, having a very quiet social life - perhaps an unnecessarily limited life … I know we can't judge other people's choices. We don't know what's going on. But - it's just I would not like to think you could be in his position - where there didn't seem to be an awful lot of fun or human connection. I know - life can't always be fun. I just hope that our occasional get togethers aren’t the only times you switch off from computing.

Recently, whatever we talk about feels very superficial - like perhaps I don't know you at all. Maybe I just haven't given you enough of a chance. Beer, which I always think of as good medicine and is always part of a night out, usually helps people open up - but it doesn’t seem to have that effect on you.

I'm just back from watching my middle son’s girlfriend run a marathon. She met somebody in the pen before the race began and ran the whole 26 miles with her - talking the whole way. After that one run, those two girls probably know each other better than we know each other after 50+ years.

And I do feel that connections - human connections - are pretty much the most important thing there is. Right now, I just don't feel we’re terribly well connected, given we’ve such a long history.

Maybe we can do something to remedy that. This isn't me trying to say “I think you need to change”. This is me just trying to be open - and admitting that perhaps I’ve not been good enough at encouraging you to talk.

So this is your cue - if there's anything you want to talk about, I’m here to listen.