Twitter

Follow me on Twitter: @janemcintyre12

JanePic

Hello.

I'm Jane McIntyre, a voiceover and writer, formerly an award-winning BBC radio newsreader and producer. My blog covers life, love and loss; travel, coffee and chocolate; with some heartfelt pieces in the mix about my late dad, who had dementia. Just a click away, I'm half of the team behind www.thetimeofourlives.net - two empty nesters who whizzed round the world in 57 days.

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:


Simple. It worked, in the same way that Twitter can find people and pets. And even wedding rings lost on the last train out of London Bridge (no, I don`t know either...)

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 fitties. Yeh..no...the ones who run, hurt, run again, and inspire those of us who don`t run anywhere near enough. People like @ChrisGN , @Fi_Wright, @JoShrops and the superhuman @helenfmurray (runs; AND bakes..c`mon....)

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, 2 February 2015

Year of the Hat*



OK..so if I`d been listening to Al Stewart on January 1st I`d probably have written this then.

But it was a combination of a biting winter wind, and the song* (similar title, ok?) popping up on Shuffle that made me think about titfers.

As a mum, you spend your life juggling the `hats` you wear. You`re nurse, teacher, chauffeur, cleaner, entertainer...and sometimes law enforcer to your kids. That`s one busy hatstand.

And then suddenly...they grow up; get engaged, plan a wedding...and you realise you`re months away from being M.o.B. And M.o.B and H.A.T go together like a ...yeh..horse and carriage, or something ...but not really for someone who really doesn`t wear them much in real life. I mean--the bride herself can carry off a hat with aplomb. Mortar boards; that black fedora in Paris; they seem to suit her. But this is new territory for me. So even if I can escape the hat wearing on one side of the pond (it`s a UK-USA relationship- *so good, they`re marrying twice*...)..I might just have to bite the bullet and buy one.

So I`ll call Saturday in Ludlow a dummy run. It was bloody freezing, actually, strolling around town, and I knew that only a hat would fix me. I splashed out a fiver in the Oxfam charity shop for a little black number, donned it, and loved its cosiness. I even took lunch at a table outside Ludlow Cicchetti-- (I reckon it was minus three with the wind chill factor. In fact, the waitress offered me a rug and a few minutes later... a hot water bottle; but no; the hat was working.) (Second thoughts: maybe the hat made me look 89 or something? Sheesh).

Back home; the high shelves remind me of the smiles I`ve had rehoming my late father`s hats. Toppers, a trilby or two, flat caps; reminders of formal state occasions, days out shooting; days at the races. The place is full of them. Sadly--none of them suitable for the M.o.B unless they want me to do a Cabaret number as `the turn` (unlikely).

So...hat wise; this is one big year. In fact...I`ll need some kind of ski number for next week`s trip to see the M.o.H (chief bridesmaid) in Geneva, too, because we`re popping up to the mountains while I`m there. Before that, I`m in London for my cousin`s silver wedding blessing in church. (Hats to those: Does one?) Back home, I might keep my eye open for a big straw number, so I can dream of warm, relaxing summer days ahead. And then there`s the virtual hard hat everyone should keep handy, because, frankly, you never know what a year`s going to throw at you.

So that`s it then; 2015. The year of the hat. With apologies for its late launch. And no.....the one below isn`t the little brimmed number I bought in a charity shop; it`s me showing off on the Royal Yacht in Edinburgh last year. So how about you? Hat or no hat? Pics please...! @janemcintyre12 on Twitter if you`re brave enough.

Happy Monday! :)









Monday, 8 December 2014

First Christmas without you...


Musical curve-ball on the South Bank
First Christmas without a loved one? Here were my thoughts a few months after Dad died. It does get a bit easier, with time. But the key's thinking about the memories and real gifts loved ones leave you. Anyway....five years on...hope this helps.


I knew I`d hear it sooner or later.

And there it was. Pumping out of a crackly speaker from one of the festive stalls on the South Bank in London. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas"--Dad`s favourite song. It's seven months since he died; and so we're heading fast towards the first Christmas without him. He used to shed a tear when he heard it. And even though Alzheimer's caught him; changed him; challenged him to remember even his daughters' names, he'd still smile when he recognised that tune.

Still; hearing it was a bit of a punch in the heart, and so, at lunchtime, in the middle of the Millennium Bridge, I found myself in tears. Luckily, the keen winter wind was leaving everyone with smarting eyes and runny noses.... so I guess I got away with it.

But maybe you've felt it too? The first anniversary, birthday, New Year celebration without someone you've loved so much...someone who's been such a central part of your life? I've found myself smiling at cards he might have liked; touching soft, warm jumpers that would have kept him cosy.


High in the Himalayas
I decided I could wallow in sadness, linger longer over my loss this Christmas, think about gifts unexchanged. Or focus on the gifts that will always be there. We've just cleared his house, so there are plenty of reminders. Detailed travel itineraries for royal trips to Tonga, San Francisco,the Congo, Mustique,Tasmania, Nepal. Just the mention of those faraway places excited me as a small child; filled me with wonder about what he'd find. And so my hunger for travel was born.

Then there are books...everywhere. Boxes and boxes have gone to charities across Kent. Yet there are still piles of the ones I couldn't part with on the stairs, under tables, on top of groaning bookshelves. The classics. More
travel. Grammar. Quotations. And poetry. Wordsworth, Masefield, a collection of Burns with a lock of blonde hair between two pages. The joy of learning, and, for the young man who'd left school and gone down the mines at 14, a hunger to read; nurtured as soon as my sister and I could turn a page. Another gift forever. Letters talk of his kindness; his selflessness. Press cuttings report his bravery at 24. More valuable traits to treasure.
Harrow and Wealdstone hero


Oh.....and the hats. How we laughed as Dad--the 'inconspicuous' royalty protection officer in a top hat-- made it to the middle of the shot on a Telegraph front page. And he laughed at himself too--always a good thing to be able to do. But was fiercely proud of his job, and its responsibilities. Check. And check.

Top hat and gun. *Blending in*

Anyway, just as I'd got over the London tears, the song came galloping back last night, at a Christmas concert. Thoughts of Dad filled my head. They insisted we all joined in. And so I sang along.....smiling, this time, at sweet memories of a big, strong, brave man, and the incredibly precious gifts he left us with. Including, as I fumbled for a 'just in case' tissue,being in touch with your 'softie' side. Which was OK for him. And is OK for his daughters :)

Happy Christmas xx
Travelling: the next generation. Avec hat...

PS: And yep; I got to Tonga. And San Francisco. And more. Read about life, four years later, on 2emptynesters.com


 retweeted you

  1. Nicely written blog young lady. In some traditions one is "allowed" to grieve for a year, so that all annual events 1/2
    are passed & reviewed for the future with the significance of the involvement of the deceased, holding onto the good!
A Very touching read.We have our first year Anniversary tomorrow. X

 retweeted you
favorited your Tweet# and 3 others retweeted you

aah that's lovely x Onwards with great memories

       
 and  retweeted you.


<3 jane="" p="" said="" well="" xx="">

you have done him justice xx

Beautifully written. And will chime with so many.

For obvious reasons I have not read it...yet

It may be hormones or incipient cold but you’ve just made me cry. And I mean that in the nicest possible way! *hugs*


Wednesday, 19 November 2014

So you think you`re a safe driver..?


The car ground to a halt beside a temporary 50 mph sign. One of the kind that teases you. 50? Yeah, I wish. The queue was through roadworks--all the way to the next roundabout. It was just before 7.30 am and I reasoned it was probably better to be a few minutes late--than pick up another ticket on my way to--oh the irony-a speed awareness workshop.

This was the very sign I`d ignored a few weeks before, at the start of a trip from Shrewsbury to London. I was running late; distracted, and the road was clear. I hardly noticed my speed sliding up over 60.

The cameras did though, and so, here I was; £85 poorer but about to attend a half day session (slap bang in the middle of UK Road Safety Week) which would keep my licence free of points.

There were more than 20 at the TTC course in Hadley, Telford--a real mix of ages and backgrounds. One had been driving four months. Another; more than forty years. The earlybirds were already getting stuck in to the speed limit section in their quiz booklets --debating the limit on a dual-carriageway with streetlights; pondering over the top speed for a car with a trailer on different roads.

One thing was certain. I wasn`t the only one who hadn`t seen a Highway Code for decades. My recollection of road sign shapes; and of speed limits on different kinds of roads was, frankly, appalling.

Two TTC* trainers, Al and Paul talked about accidents; about the likelihood of death over injury depending on your speed, and about the places you`re least likely to have a crash, or be injured by one. They played videos so that we could spot hazards; and encouraged us to think hard about our driving, and the personal consequences and the risks to others, of going too fast. They were engaging, punchy, entertaining--and didn`t make us feel as if we were being punished or confined to the classroom. Their heady mix of humour, grim stats, and coffee hit home for me, and has already changed the way I drive.

Surprising facts I took home? Motorways are statistically among the safest places to be motoring. And...in built up areas, if you really find it tough keeping to 30 mph, you can drive along in third gear. Apparently, your car won`t mind at all.

Thanks, Al and Paul, for a thought provoking session. They`re great guys. But in the nicest possible way-- I really hope you never get to meet them.





The TTC Group`s Miguel Ramshill illustrates how many people--represented by the blacked out silhouettes--will die before the week is over as a result of a preventable road crash, half of them while at work.



TOP TIPS FROM TTC FOR ROAD SAFETY WEEK:

1) Use your gears to stay in control

Selecting a lower gear will help you manage your speed in built-up areas, because engine braking will help to hold the vehicle back and prevent it running away from you. Try 3rd gear for 30mph and, for those challenging 20mph limits, give 2nd a try. Modern engines use fuel-injection systems controlled by computer, meaning you won’t use more fuel.

2.     Look out for street lights

If you can see a system of street lights (that’s three or more), then the speed limit is 30mph. They can be lights on telegraph poles or strip lighting in tunnels, and they don’t have to be switched on. Don’t worry about the space between them, either – 3 or more and it’s a system. If there are no streetlights, then it’s national speed limit (remember, that will vary depending on the type of road and the vehicle you are driving). This rule applies to all road types, apart from motorways. If the speed limit is anything different, it must be signed – because signs overrule streetlights.

3.     A dual carriageway is nothing to do with the number of lanes

Yes, you did read that correctly. A dual carriageway is defined by the fact that it must have a physical separation between the two opposing carriageways. That can be grass, infill, concrete or metal barriers, or just a raised kerb down the middle. You can have one or more lanes in either direction, but the presence of two lanes alone does not constitute a dual carriageway. Our American cousins use the term ‘divided highway’, and that’s a pretty accurate description of a dual carriageway here in the UK.

4.     A dual carriageway with street lights is limited to 30mph

Again, not a typo! Unless there are signs telling you otherwise, the speed limit will be 30mph – remember the streetlight rule. If the limit was anything different, there would be signs to tell you this. Many drivers forget that the streetlight rule applies to dual carriageways too, and are caught out because the road ‘looks faster’.

5.     If you’re towing, you should be slowing!

If you are towing anything, whether it’s a small box trailer, a boat, or a caravan, you will be subject to lower speed limits on a national speed limit section of road. For a single carriageway road, that’s a maximum of 50mph, and for a dual carriageway, that’s 60mph. It’s worth remembering that these lower limits also apply to the majority of vans and to minibuses – important if you need to hire one. If you are towing on a motorway, your maximum speed is set at 60mph.

6.     Give yourself time

One of the biggest causes of speeding is time pressure, or running late. Allow yourself that ‘safety margin’ of extra time, so you don’t feel pressured into breaking the law and risking speeding fines, points, or worse. Remember that a smooth, progressive drive within the speed limit uses up to 25% less fuel. And speed limits are just that – limits, not targets. There will be many occasions when the limit just isn’t appropriate, and you’ll need to adjust your speed accordingly.





*The TTC Group is the largest provider of courses for the National Driver Offender Retraining Scheme (NDORS), an educational alternative to prosecution for some road traffic offences. They run courses on behalf of police and councils in 15 UK regions from Scotland in the north, Wales in the west, across north England and the Midlands to Avon and Somerset, Kent and Devon and Cornwall in the south. Nationally, 1,713 people died in road crashes in the UK in 2013 – the lowest death rate since records began, 21,657 were seriously injured, 160,300 slight injuries. Around 400 people a year are killed in crashes in which someone exceeds the speed limit or drives too fast for the conditions. (figures from the Department for Transport). Speed awareness courses were rolled out in England, Wales and Northern Ireland from 2006. Scotland introduced the National Driver Improvement Scheme in 2007. 0845 270 4363 www.tc-uk.com  ndors@ttc-uk.com





























Monday, 3 November 2014

Stuff I`d never have said last week...


1) I guess, finally, that Dad probably had a thing about hats (top hats, trilbys, Panamas, flat caps.... all now safely rehomed..)

2) Baklava at 12.15 am is quite delicious.

3) Rod Stewart tribute acts in village pubs can actually be hilarious.

4) Candelit All Souls` Day services in village churches are hugely comforting, even to rampant atheists....

5) The top notes in `For all the saints....` are bloody high and suggest I may no longer be a soprano.

6)  However....there`s nothing quite like singing `Somebody else`s guy` very loudly... with a pub full of people.

7) You can be rammed sideways on the M25 by a ten ton truck and live to tell the tale.

8) It`s also possible to do a passable tap dance to rapturous applause at 2 am (with no training whatsoever).

9) You can`t have too much coffee.

10) If you don`t have a number ten...just shut up.

Saturday, 25 October 2014

About a bench...

I was rushing through my favourite bit of London the other day--the stunning `square mile`. Here, magnificent historic, architectural gems like St Paul`s Cathedral rub broad, stone shoulders with gleaming new kids on the block--full of bankers, lawyers, movers, shakers. And at lunchtime, some escape their sparkling towers,time-travelling two blocks and a couple of centuries to squares like the little hideaway off St Dunstan`s Hill.

You can see them heading for the benches with their sandwiches, lingering over lattes...longing for a few moments` peace and respite from office pressures, for some thinking time alone. There are lunchtime lovers, too; touching, whispering; earnest and certain that their city bench, for just a few moments, makes them invisible. It`s their space; their little `table for two` in the cosiest spot any maitre d`could muster.

If it`s you on the bench, you can just watch the world go by. I still try and stop in Trafalgar Square en route to Charing Cross; watching tourists getting ticked off for trying to tame the lions, or leaning too close to the still-icy fountain water on scorching summer days. I remember standing, as a four year old, covered with pigeons; their tiny claws digging into my head; beaks pecking at the bought seed in my hand-- I didn`t really enjoy it, but mum had paid for the stuff from the bloke on the corner-- it`s what you did on a day out. In New York, we sat munching hot dogs on a bench in Central Park, feeling as much a part of the Big Apple as Carrie; then joined the throngs in Times Square, watching the snaking queues at the ticket booths; each tourist already part of their own Broadway show.


In most cities around the world, a bench can be the only place you have to sleep--one step up from the street; and every person rushing past with somewhere to go is a cruel reminder that you`ve hit rock bottom. In Shropshire, Jim Hawkins uses the simplest of devices...sitting on a bench in a different location each week..to collect and record stories from anyone who cares to stop and share theirs. It`s uncomplicated, brilliant radio.

So that`s it really. You can`t beat watching the world go by from a well placed bench and wondering about all the secrets it keeps. And it doesn`t cost a dime.


Tuesday, 14 October 2014

It`s chocolate week. Here are 3 big, fat chunks....




Chocolate. Want some? Call me.

Like it, as a business concept? I thought I'd throw it out there. With a couple more hand made, glisteningly chocolatey creations that I made earlier. Here's why:

Every time I mention my (incredible, patent pending) idea for a Chocolate Van; (*You dial; we deliver*....Lol...) I`m swamped with urgent appeals  to get the business on the road. Immediately, if the booty's in the boot; so to speak. It's usually fairly late in the evening when these Twitter conversations kick in, long after tea's been scoffed, and always after any children in the house have been tucked up in bed.


Sometimes the tweets are quite angry. Women (in the main....) tweeting IN CAPITAL LETTERS  that there's NO CHOCOLATE in their house; often demanding to know why. (You've eaten it, love. )

I used to think it was just a girl thing. All down to those ...... hormonal cravings. But men respond to the choc-tweeting too .(OK...Richard, mainly, wanting sherbet lemons.) They clearly love chocolate too...but the longing is nowhere near as intense. On the other hand, it's often the bloke (apparently)...who gets sent down to the petrol station when there`s a choccie craving in the house.

The need for chocolate can be desperate, and urgent. My friend Carol was driven to licking powder from a tin of hot chocolate mix. Sue ripped open a (wrapped) box of chocolates for her auntie which were under the Christmas tree. Then scoffed the top layer and half of the second before retiring to bed, nauseous. (Look ok, there's no Sue. It was me.)

This is often because even the `secret` chocolate in their hideaway places* has been greedily consumed.Now there`s nothing. Don`t pretend you don`t know what I mean by this*, by the way. I`m not eating chocolate at the moment, (really) but, should there be an in-flight emergency at any time, I know, entre nous, where I can find some: *Adopts air stewardess mode with that arm thingie going on...*

Here: (my desk, my drawer, my chocolate)









Here, in a kitchen cupboard.....





And even here; in the feckin` freezer:













Here`s the plan, then. I go to the wholesalers and get a shedload of the the regular stuff. .Mars Bars, Twirls, Toffee Crisps, Dairy Milk. Big slabs of the stuff. Not 'for sharing'. For `ourselves`. Then there'd be the `luxury` range. I`d have to do some deal with Julia of Toot Sweets in Shrewsbury, so that any `A` list clientele could partake of her chocolate covered honeycomb bars. Her salted caramels. Her mixed selections. (This is driving me stark raving bonkers, writing this. Julia, come in, please...over....)

And cakes. Home (not mine, obviously...) baked chocolate brownies with white-choc-chips in them. Party celebration numbers with deep, sweet, lavish layers and toppings of chocolate buttercream. Cookies... chunky chocolate biscuity traybakes....you like?

I`m forgetting the key issues here, like formulating a business plan. Pah. Let`s talk van colours...chocolate and cream..or `you know whose` purple? Or should I travel incognito--so that you could just pop out in your onesie and slippers, have a quick browse and get back in the house to eat the stuff?