You know you spend too much time on Twitter when…

I’ve done a couple of posts recently that seem to have struck a chord with people; You Know You’re a Parent When… and Twitter is Like… I’ve been totally bowled over by the response to both, so thank you very much. It seems that the secret to a successful blog post is having an ellipsis in your blog title, and doing all your writing after several glasses of wine.

It’s the middle of the morning right now, so I’ve not had any wine, but just for a laugh I thought I’d combine the topics of those two posts, and do a quick one called You know you spend too much time on Twitter when… Feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments.
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Twitter is like…

a white iphone on white background with the Twitter logo on the screen, and above is test reading 'Twitter is like...'

I was out for coffee the other day with a non-tweeting friend. So what is Twitter actually like? she asked.

I ummed and ahhed, and explained it all very badly, mumbling some fairly dry stuff about retweets and hashtags and follows. She didn’t look convinced. So I’ve been thinking about it ever since, and here’s what I’ve come up with.
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From Daffodils to Despots: the thing about charity.

I was chatting to a fellow mum-of-a-toddler the other day, and she was having a bit of a moan about her son’s nursery and the amount of activities they undertake for charity.

It seems like there’s something different every week. Dress up as this, or sponsor me for this, or send in a donation for this. I can’t keep going round my friends and asking for money every week, it’s getting ridiculous.

Oooh,” I said. “How awkward. Thank goodness they don’t do that at DorkySon’s nursery.
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Live In The Now: June

Pink blossoms on a blue background with the slogan 'live in the now'

Wow. I’m amazed that it has been a whole month since I put up my first Live In The Now post. For those that missed my May ramblings, the premise is that you try and take a monthly snapshot of your life, and capture some of the details that you don’t take the time to record in photograph albums or baby books. It’s something that the excellent Scribbling Mum started, and if you haven’t checked her blog out I’d urge you to do so.

Anyway, it has been one of those weeks. DorkyDad is travelling, and within five minutes of him getting in a taxi to the airport I’d managed to drop a two-litre carton of milk on the kitchen floor. DorkySon was supposed to be getting a haircut – something that has previously been no problem – but on this occasion he had a meltdown and refused to let anyone near him. In the queue at the bank, DorkySon stuck his fingers so far down his own throat that he threw up all over himself. And today we walked past a toy shop without going in and buying a new truck and so I was rewarded with twenty minutes of screaming around the supermarket, before DorkySon slammed his legs against the checkout counter with such strength that he flipped his pushchair right over and ended up staring at the ceiling. The shock of that, finally, made him shush.

Phew. I feel like the gin and tonic I am sitting sipping has been well earned. Continue reading

The Book I’d Like to Write: 373 Friends

person using smartphone to look at Facebook

At the last count, I had 373 Facebook friends.

There is more than sixty years difference between my youngest and oldest friends. A dozen of them are related to me. There are seven Sarahs, and three Tims, but only one Wendy.

Some of them are people I went to school or university with, and some of them are former colleagues. There are a lot of fellow mums, journalists, and poets. Three of them are people with whom I shared a tent on the Arctic ice sheet. A small handful of them are people I know through online communities – parenting and photography – who I’ve never actually met.

My friends include several MSPs, one MP, and a former US Congressman. One of my friends made news around the world for disrupting Benjamin Netanyahu’s speech at the Jewish Federation General Assembly, while another once superglued themselves to a British Prime Minister. One of my friends has featured in a Blackberry advert, and one of them turned down the opportunity to go on Oprah. Continue reading