The former lawyer from Llantrisant in South Wales shares a day in his life – and what volunteering means to him.

6.45am

Every morning starts with a bit of routine. Breakfast first – usually a bowl of cereal or porridge, but never with sugar. I throw grapes on instead, which makes it feel a bit more virtuous. Then it’s time to wash, shave and get ready for the day ahead. By 8.15am I’m in the car heading to Bridgend. It’s 11 miles away and Monday mornings are when our stroke support group meets. That group means a great deal to me – and I know it does to the others, too.

9am

We meet from 9.30-11.30am. I get there early to open up and set up the room. We have 30 members on the books and most weeks around 25 of them come through the door – some walking, some wheeling themselves in. All of them are ready to give it a go.

We start with a bit of light activity, all of it designed to be doable whether you’re standing, seated or using a wheelchair. Then we play target balls, which is sort of adapted bowling with a streetball. You can play it on any surface, and it gets quite competitive! But the best part of the morning – for me, anyway – is the tea break. A cuppa, a biscuit and a chat. That’s when people open up about what they’re going through. There’s something very powerful about sharing a space with others who ‘get it’.

We finish with a quiz. The winning team gets the ‘prize’ of writing the next one, which is a bit of a booby prize. But it keeps us laughing. By the time I’ve tidied up, I’m usually home by lunchtime.

I took over running the group in July 2024 when the funding disappeared. I was nervous, I’ll admit. I didn’t know if I was up to the job or whether people would come back. But they did. And week by week my confidence grew.

We’re now planning our first day trip to St Fagans National Museum of History. They’ve got wheelchairs and a buggy, so it’s perfect. We’re also talking about visiting Bristol Zoo and maybe having a classic fish and chip day out to Barry or Porthcawl. It’s all about getting people back out into the world.

12pm

Lunch is always a sandwich – tongue is my favourite – and a cup of tea while I catch the one o'clock news. It’s often the only time that the TV is on during the day.

Before my stroke, sport was a big part of my life. I played and coached bowls – even trained other coaches at international level. I did get back into it a couple of years ago.  But after a few too many soakings in the Welsh weather, I’ve decided to stick to indoor bowls and pottering in the garden. Come winter, I’ll be watching the rugby – the local team and, of course, Wales. And I attend a weekly balance and exercise class at the leisure centre, which helps me stay mobile.

If my story can give some else the belief that they’ll walk again, laugh again, get back out there – then that’s enough for me.

Alan Thompson

2pm

On Tuesdays, I go to the Royal Glamorgan Hospital in Llantrisant. It’s the very place I was transferred to when I had my stroke seven years ago. I was in for heart surgery and things went wrong. I ended up in a coma for a fortnight. When I came round, I was told I’d had a stroke. It was the deepest, darkest moment of my life. I told my family to sell the car and throw away my bowls.

But I was lucky. A delightful woman called Laura, from Stroke Association Community Steps, helped me find a way forward. She arranged physio and got me into a local support group.

That was the turning point. Now, I volunteer at the hospital. I look after the stroke information point. I chat to staff and patients alike and wear my purple Stroke Association shirt with pride. I tell them: ‘I am a stroke survivor, just like you.’ I hope it gives people a bit of hope for their own recovery.

6pm

Evenings are for unwinding – a proper meal, usually something warming – then either Radio Wales or the TV. I enjoy crime dramas, sport or wildlife programmes. I’ve even been on BBC TV’s The One Show showing movement to music to Angela Rippon, with Rubicon Dance in my front room!

By 10pm I’m off to bed. I like a steady rhythm to my days.

Why I volunteer

People ask me why I do it. For me, it's like opening Christmas presents – each person I meet, each story I hear, each little bit of progress made. That joy is its own reward. If my story can give some else the belief that they’ll walk again, laugh again, get back out there – then that’s enough for me. I’m living proof that life doesn’t end with stroke. And maybe, with the right support, it’s just beginning again.