Showing posts with label Twitter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Twitter. Show all posts
Monday, 25 January 2016
Twitter: Take it...to the limit -- then leave it.
So we`re getting to hear about the death of some of our favourite rock and movie stars on Twitter now. The Eagles` Glenn Frey...hard on the heels of Bowie, Lemmy, and Alan Rickman.
Death shocks; softly sandwiched between celebrity recipe shots; whimpering pleas for lost pets in Preston; and raging rants from rail commuters, live; trackside. Every night you get that heady mix of the totally unexpected...and the old favourites, interspersed by the cyclical, triumphal glugging of Grigio -in- glass as yet another 20 parents from Inverness to Exeter make it downstairs after storytime.
It`s a glorious muddle, this Twitter thing: a non stop stream of fast, furious, catastrophically uncurated ramblings from anyone who has something to say or, quite frankly, doesn`t. Because,sometimes, even a little mild derision from a total stranger across the globe about your new shoes can be better than a night in alone with the cat. Although you know, if things ever get really bad, a selfie of you and the Mog will at least keep you in the Twitter mix.
But, for the most part, it`s frenetic.Witty. Pithy. Pacy. Mercilessly brief. 140 characters and you`re out of here. You get the breaking news. The very worst horrors, as they start to unfold; which you can choose to pursue on Twitter, or elsewhere, or ignore. And sometimes the very best news. The latest from our fabulous Tim Peake, way above us, watching us, watching him. And even in short bursts, you get mates; supporting you after a really crap day; high five-ing you for when things go well. You get poetry, from amazing guys like @JimCMackintosh, and you even get to find out if @Gary_Bainbridge has made the last bus home.
But 10,000 characters? Don`t do it, please. Yeh, maybe Wordsworth clocked that many daffodils at a glance, and maybe they were lovely. But I`d hate long messages clogging up our neat little timelines. A limit of 140 forces you to at least ATTEMPT to be succinct. I mean...does anyone want to see those tottering, teetering, faltering, FaceBookstylee ...`I was just having a think the other day about the kind of books I used to ...`. You`ve lost me.
Listen to Glenn and the guys. Take it to the limit. Keep that limit 140. And leave it there.
Tuesday, 12 January 2016
Love letters--in my hand.
Did you see those reply letters David Bowie sent to his fans in the early days? Gracious; grateful responses. Lines to cherish then...and even more now.
The news of his passing coincided with a big sort-out day for me: clothes, books, paperwork...and plenty of letters of my own, all to a teenage Jane.
Letters in Biro. In ink. In batches. In boxes...from Geoff , on his uni gap-year in Germany....from medical student Ian; reflecting on a party weekend on the south coast. And wafer-thin fold n` seal airmail ones from wafer-thin Lars from Sweden (yep...the one who, under a Magaluf palm tree an hour after meeting me, uttered the immortal line: "I love you, Yane." )
And I still have them.
I love letters bearing good news, too. There`s the one from a newspaper, offering me my first job at 19--one of three reporter posts I got offered that fortnight. (Yep...different times..) Letters from my mum after I left home, long separated from the inevitable fivers she`d mischievously stuff in the envelope `for a cornet`.
And there`s the one-liner, on an A4, lined pad, that my late Dad wrote to our youngest, Alice, while he was in hospital in the final stages of Alzheimer`s a couple of years ago. He`d pretty much forgotten how to read or write by then. But I`d chatted about Alice. And he amazed me, and the nurses, by jotting her a precious, scrawly, loving line. On a page she can keep.
This makes me sound as if I conduct all my correspondence with a quill pen. On parchment. Not true.
I`m a huge fan of social media, 2016 style. I get impatient if two minutes pass before my Tweets are acknowledged....and climb the walls at the slow-mo pace of Facebook. But unless you screenshot and print out your favourite texts, Whats App messages, DMs and PMs...they`re lost forever.
Which is why I love a letter, and why I`m going to try and write a few more this year. Careful if you reply, though. I might still have your words stashed away....20 years from now.
Thanks for your comments!
Alistair Gordon
@janemcintyre12 great blog as ever!
Saturday, 13 June 2015
Kylie, Lulu and me.
I studied them on stage, shoulder to shoulder, belting out Auld Lang Syne, and reasoned, without the slightest soupcon of bitterness, that it`s probably easier to look that good if you`ve got great genes, a whole team of stylists, a limitless budget and your own range of beauty products.
But then...imagine the stress of having your name, like Lulu does, on a range of goodies called `Time Bomb`. You`d have to look incredible every time you went out. If you even put the bins out sans slap, some snapper would catch your crows` feet and send `em viral in a nanosecond. Not that either of them has got crows` feet of course. (Yeh, c`mon.Whoever said life was fair?)
Either way, for the rest of us...drifting numerically somewhere in between the two songbirds, getting older has the potential to be a bit depressing. You can`t get away with wearing anything you like any more. Keeping fit takes more effort, especially on the days your trainers look up at you, sideways, and say:`You`re going out running? Seriously?` The tubes of `age defying` moisturiser seem to empty faster. And...OK...heads don`t (always) turn like they used to.
You can get glum about it. Or you do what I try and do. And spin it.
So...every time you feel down about your DoB; dwell, for a moment on people in the news; or on people you`ve loved and lost, who`d have given anything to reach the age you`re at now.
Remind yourself that while age might be a real thing that occasionally laughs, hyena-like at you, from that yellowing birth certificate in the drawer, it`s really a state of mind. In your head, you`re still 18, yeh? OK...27. Well, you know...
Your mother told you to always tell the truth, but she didn`t mean about the age thing. Really. Until you hit the zone where you`re proudly calling radio stations and saying `I`m 86, you know...`; lie a little. If no eyebrows are raised, you`ve got away with it.
Either that or the person you`re lying to has had Botox. Ha.
Have a lovely day :)
PS: Ever thought about what it means to act your age? Take a look?
And ...do you talk on Twitter? How old is everyone else you talk to? One day I asked. And they fessed up :
Saturday, 28 March 2015
Twitter: Who do you love?
It started with a tweet.
As things so often do.
Today it was a cry for help; from Kerry. Answered, with alacrity, by Mr Perry. Take a look:
Apparently, I`ve been on Twitter since 2009 and am hurtling towards 40,000 tweets. Sorry about that; but the 2,357 people following me seem to think that`s ok. Or maybe you`ve all muted me. (HELLO??)
Millions still don`t get the Twitter thing..and I reckon there are some that never will. Maybe I just have an insatiable curiosity about people and their stories; but yes, I want to know that building work round @theactualsteve `s house is just about finished. I worry that @humantourniquet has been off poorly, and I frown a lot for @LifeAfloat when the wind whips up around his 27 foot floating home on choppy Scottish waters. And no...I`ve never met them in my life. I`d never met @MlleSorbet , either, but I still ended up at Glastonbury with her and Meg last year...TOP time!
I don`t follow footie that much, and don`t get cricket....but love the passion people show for their sport on here; like @markleeelliott , @AnkurDesai and @dwarfio . Just wind `em up and watch the commentary :)
So here`s what else, and who else I love on Twitter, nearly six years on:
The news people. (Yeh well, like it says, Once a Journalist......)...I mean the ones who bother to engage with you. From local stuff in @shrewstoday to national broadcasters like @martinebbc @krishgm and @cathynewman. We can all see and report, now. You just need a smartphone, a sharp eye, and, hopefully...a bit of nous and a conscience.
The funny people. Take a bow, Craig Deeley (@craiguito ) ; Gary *I`m on the bus* Bainbridge (@gary_bainbridge), And @prodnose Danny Baker for his teasers about what`s coming up on his (forever funny) show:
The businesses that bother : to engage on Twitter. From @stopcoffeeshop to @VirginTrains . It`s free publicity. Show me your cakes . Tell me when there`s a signal failure. It`s *this* easy! And a jingly high five to @shrewsmorris too, who knows he has more than 43,000 followers...and uses that fact to help promote businesses near and far.
The invisibles: OK, and apart from all the public banter and laughs, there are the Twitter mates who are just there for you. Ones you know, and ones you`ll probably never meet. Sending you kind words and DMs at just the right time.
The inspirationals: People like the late, great @grangerkate , thevery much alive in lycra @ReCycledRich , @kathrynanngraham and the wonderful @karenellaB--either because they`ve come through the toughest times, or are still on a bumpy road and are using their situations to help others, or to raise awareness of major issues. I love that about Twitter. How about you?
Monday, 8 September 2014
Technology: you big tease
But sometimes, even when you think you`re up to speed, technology makes a bloody fool of you. It`s not just me--I checked with a scientific sample* of tech-savvy people. So here`s what`s making the blush list:
1) Waiting for a set of double doors to part automatically--in the two seconds it takes you to realise that they`re the kind you have to push open.
2) Starting to say a cheery: `Oh, hi....!`to a recorded message when the number connects.
3) Aiming your car key`s `unlock` button at the wrong vehicle and being sure you can hear your own motor mumble: `behind you, stupid...`
4) Holding your hands patiently under a `non` automatic tap in public loos.
5) In spite of your shame, going on to then hold your hands under the `drier`, before realising it`s a paper-towel dispenser.
6) Waiting so you don`t spoil the tourist`s shot of Nelson`s Column; then realise they`re taking a selfie.
7) Touching the *wrong* kind of screen with finger and thumb-tip to enlarge the picture.
8) Asking your daughters if they can think of any more examples, and getting `that` look.
*OK. There`s no sample . I did all these.
Tell me I`m not alone.
Or forever hold your Tweets.
Happy Monday :)
Tuesday, 18 March 2014
Tweeting. And meeting...?
OK..sorry...you`ve heard that one already?
So...try this one.
Morris Dancer walks into a coffee shop. ( No bells, no ribbons, no music). Sits alongside a sommelier (no wine, no glass, no corkscrew). Who`s opposite a former civil servant (no clipboard, no suit, no red tape ), directly opposite a businessman who`s also an engineer and a musician (no guitar, no oily overalls, no briefcase). He`s next to a young man with a secret. And just across the table from a former journalist (hello) who`s hopeless at keeping them.
Alright, so maybe as a joke, this has lost a little pace. It`s just a rough sketch, of a great hour, somewhere in Shrewsbury this morning. Six people from very different backgrounds, all of whom met on Twitter and decided to go for a brew.
Agenda? None. But top talking points were local arts (Kevin Tanner`s Wellington based and a great supporter of local events ). Also, the fast approaching day of music,The Big Busk, which hits Shrewsbury on April 5. Karen Paterson ( Samaritan, sommelier, and one fab lady) is one of the key organisers of that, and it was brilliant to hear how well the plans are going. Graydon, ex military, now Morris dancer is performing there with his team, too, just as they did last year. Also discussed: mental health issues--on everyone`s mind, for lots of different reasons, and from David, what it`s like running a theatre company, while having to dash off round the world on business trips
And that secret--in the hands of the youngest of the assembled six; a new recruit to Twitter? Well; it`s that Shrewsbury`s going to have a brand new performance venue. In a former Temperance Hall! And the guy they call @Johnnystars is helping to get it up and running. It`s a fascinating venture.
One hour; six people, all with a tale to tell ;none of whom would have met without Twitter. One of a series of Shropshire `tweet-ups` which are giving people the chance to see the face behind the avatar. Messages are great, and funny, and supportive, sometimes, but occasionally, it`s brilliant to get out from behind that little glass screen and meet the guys you tweet *in real life*. Today was a prime example.
Oh--and the Alpaca? He was a no show. He DM`d me, though. Hangover ;)
Saturday, 7 September 2013
Summer? It`s a wrap.
While
there might still be some gorgeous, sunny days ahead; autumn`s in the air. I
wrote part of this a year ago, after a rotten summer, when we were sharpening
our pencils, flogging frocks and crocs, and eyeing up supermarket stewpacks.
This year we`ve had some sizzlers. I reckon it`s easier to face the chilly weather ahead when you can still see strap marks on a fading tan.
So here are those autumn thoughts. Not least because I seem to have nearly a thousand more followers on Twitter than I did this time last year. If you`re one of them...thanks. Slide over here for some apple crumble and custard:
I woke up today to a tweet from chef and food writer Sabrina (@SabrinaGhayour), about
how much she loves September, and the autumn `mists and mellow
fruitfulness` so beloved of Keats. She even copied Ode to Autumn in her
message,a poem I used to know off by heart.
Yes, it`s beautiful to feel the sun on your
face, relax in your garden and run free in bare feet. But in recent days, I`ve
started looking longingly at my boots again : high black suede; shiny conker
brown; little ankle boots with tip tap `look at me` heels.
Out shopping, I found myself stroking a charcoal
grey angora jumper and wriggling my fingers into the tips of soft tan leather
gloves. I`m longing for those Aberdovey days when I can pretend the beach is
mine during a brisk walk or a bracing run against the breeze. Only after a
pause for hot chocolate in a cafe overlooking the sea will I start my lazy
meander over the Welsh hills to home.
Much as I love throwing open every door and
window at home in the summer, months later, I still get a thrill out of
battening down the hatches with a gale lashing against the glass, knowing
there`s a casserole cooking and a basket of logs for the fire. I was born in
December and often wonder if it`s the same for all `winter babies`.
We`re not quite there yet, mind. There`ll be
apples, pears and damsons to pick, and a little cottage in Normandy
Monday, 17 June 2013
Age: More than a number?
This all started when my sixteen year old was describing a woman she`d met.
`She was, you know, like you, she said. `Oldish`. She then laughed a bit, to make it sound like a joke. I started to think really hard, about how I viewed people `of my age` ..when I was her age. Parents, teachers, bloke in the corner shop, Yep all ancient.
I then wondered what age you had to be, for most of the population to be younger than you. Was I there yet? Hell, yes. A piece in the Economist earlier this year said that of the seven billion or so people in the world in 2011, the average person was just under 32. That`s disturbing for lots of reasons, but at least I can tell teen daughter that on a global scale--she`s positively middle aged. That`ll stop her chortling.
When it comes to my age, (37), I`m sensitive. Yeh OK, and dishonest. I put it down to anxiety about time ticking away and losing a mother way too young. But am I the only one? And never mind the rest of the world-- where do I sit age wise, I wondered, among the people who follow me on Twitter?
There was a barrage, first, with 43 year old Karen leading the attack.Then:` 41, 55, 36, 44! ` from
Diane, Geoff, Ciaran and Hefin, swiftly followed by `42, 40, 56, ` from Martin in France, Michelle-out-west and Tim.
And another `40` with multiple exclamation marks from Dave Burrows at the Shropshire Star. Cheryl in France, told me she was 41, and `running to keep in shape.` More twenties and thirties...followed, a sprinkling of fifty somethings; a 61 year old mum, and a loud and proud `62` from Nonny; none of them thinking twice about coming clean.
And it turned out that I`m not the only one who gets a bit twitchy about the topic.
The man who shall be known only as `H`, messaged me in private.`Sorry Jane,` he wrote.`Couldn`t bring myself to put it on the open market. A greying, balding, wheezing 41`. I hear you, H.
Two were heading for big milestones. Like Mike.`I`m 39 and eleven months,` he wrote.`And reflective to a certain degree.` He`s planning a party. But, he admitted, ` procrastinating about sending the invitations out. I think that sums it up quite well!`
Emma, a Shropshire businesswoman hits 30 soon--with mixed feelings. `Everyone says it`s great and that you feel better in your thirties, `she said.` I feel I haven`t reached the goals I thought I would have done when I was sixteen. I worry than I`m going to turn into a cat lady, as I haven`t found anyone yet.` That said, Emma admitted she was looking forward to her party, and to adventures that lay ahead.
If 41 year old chef Lisa is anything to go by, Emma`s got it all to look forward to. `I`m loving my age,` she tweeted, `confident in who I am, and knowing that I`ll grow in confidence as I get older. I will live life as I see fit for me.`
Enlightening. And encouraging. And then, mixed in with the `41, 55, 26 and 44` from Karen P, David, Deborah and Trace (really ??!) --and the `43--most of the time` from Mr Access Taxis, a reminder from two people who cherish every year they have.
Rich Smith`s 46. `But I make it look good,` he boasted on Twitter, then suggesting that I should perhaps list him as 20 again. That`s because Rich has clocked up 20 years since, at death`s door, he received the new liver that would save his life and give him the strength to become a British, European and World cycling champion, husband, and doting dad. He`s written a book about his story.
`When I was first diagnosed with my illness,`she told me,`amongst all the shock some of my first thoughts were that how lucky I was I had got to age 49 and managed to achieve all I had.
`When I was diagnosed, the following year was a rollercoaster until they managed to get me stable.For months I was striving to still be alive for my 50th birthday and hoping things would improve.I was just glad to be alive, but I had been referred to the transplant team, who told me I would probably only have a few good years left if I didn't take the transplant option.
`I had to take ill health retirement and I was lucky to be able to draw my work pensions early, so I suppose now I'm fairly stable. I feel like I'm enjoying my retirement while I wait for my transplant, albeit 15 years earlier than most people, but what does 'age' matter as long as you can still make the most of life?
`Since being ill,` said Kath,` I can only take one day at a time. Old age is too far away for me at the moment and I have too many hurdles in front of me to even think of it. I know my life could change in the next hour or even minutes should I get my transplant call or take a turn for the worse, so at the moment age doesn't matter, just living each day counts.`
Thanks Kath, and Rich, and everyone who gave me their `number` today. See--age does matter. But will I tell you mine? No. Not on your nelly.
http://www.kathstransplantblog.blogspot.com
http://www.economist.com/blogs/graphicdetail/2013/01/daily-chart-3
http://www.amazon.co.uk/ReCycled-Richard-Smith/dp/1781764891
Thankyou! Karen, Diane, Geoff, Ciaran, Hefin, Richard G; Nonny, Julie, `H`, Martin, Michelle, Lisa, Emma, Tim M; Tim P; Dave Burrows ,Shaun C; Chris, Rich, Clare B, Kath, Mike Perry,Karen P; Dave Wright, Deborah Reck, Access Taxi-man, Trace W; Seb, Helen, Ruth, Cheryl, Rich D; Tom.
COMMENTS:
@janemcintyre12 Very good again Jane :) BTW HOW old are you? #spillthebeans :)
to read Jane! Here's to ageing disgracefully;-)))))
@janemcintyre12 Just
don't think about asking for my weight missy!! Great article - loving my 40s so
far!
Weekly Blog Club @WeeklyBlogClub
Weekly Blog Club @WeeklyBlogClub
@janemcintyre12 Are
you contributing that great post to #WeeklyBlogClub,
Jane? Even though I didn't get as far as admitting my age to you?
mentioned in a blog! woo hoo!
Great blog from @janemcintyre12 (34) including your truly (36) and a host of other people who fib about their age :)
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