Of all the Social Media, Instagram is my favourite. I like the effort that is made to get the ultimate picture. I like the fleeting photo stories that appear in tiny circles at the top of the screen, and that I can choose to watch them or not. I like that it is so brief, a snapshot that disappears swiftly to make room for more. I like that it provides a window through which I can view the lives of people who interest me. My great nieces and nephews, whose mums often post photos or short clips of them loom large in my every day. I love to see them change and grow, to watch their first smiles, words and steps at a distance. I know what they are up to, what milestones they have reached, and what Disney character or dog they are. I see them going out for walks, petting goats, covering themselves in spaghetti Bolognese or sudocream. And in the same way I used to laugh at my own children as they found their way and their characters developed, I now have the privilege of being able to do the same to beloved relations who are a little further removed. I miss the laughter that springs forth from being around young children, but thanks to Instagram, I usually get my daily fix in the shape of the smallest pack members.
I can also keep an eye on friends or relatives who live away, or who I don’t see regularly, and let them know I am interested in their lives, with a single click or a few words. It keeps us in touch, and as Instagram accounts move around with the owner, we are less likely to lose contact than we would have done in the pre social media days.
I am inherently nosey, so Instagram is a gift. I can follow the journeys of some of my fellow writers, and share their successes and their sorrows without feeling intrusive. And in much the same way as I do, they only share information or photographs which they are happy to be in the public domain so I don’t feel too guilty about it. And similarly some of my favourite celebrities also post. I especially love Bob Mortimer’s Train Guy, - follow ‘realBobMortimer’ and watch some of his short video clips. These are proper laugh out louds and I wish there were more.
I have blogged before about my concerns with the overuse of social media and I am very aware of its impact, particularly on children and young people. There is the inaccurate impression that everyone else is having a fabulous time, which can be so damaging. I try to balance it by reminding my kids that these are the best bits in the life of the instagrammers, and that those experiences are unlikely to be representative of their daily lives.
They don't post photos of their long bus journey home from work, of sitting on the phone trying to get through to the doctors to make an appointment to get their boil lanced, or of being too tired to brush their teeth before they go to bed because they have spent hours trying to get the perfect shot to post of some scotch eggs they made to take to Slimming World taster session. Only one of those three is me btw.
And Facebook. I was a big fan for many years and have a lot to be grateful for. For example, for reuniting me with my first husband (after splitting up with the second), and my resultant third wedding. (I am just addicted to wedding cake.) But also for helping me to get back in touch with many old friends, and keep in touch with others when I have moved on to pastures new. And it has put me in touch with other writers who are generous bunch, and always happy to share advice and experiences. I love seeing my ‘memories’, flicking through my old posts and being transported back to the days of small children and high jinks. The photos (like those below) are a lovely reminder of so many yesterdays. Tempus fugit or what!
Nowadays, my feed is a bit dull, filled with photos of people I don’t know with their before and after shots, photos of plates full of low syn meals, and outfits they have made. Most of my friends no longer post anything, so for entertainment purposes, I have had to resort to joining groups for slimmers and sewers (people who sew, not transport systems for sewage) and people who like to moan about what a rubbish place Northampton is to live. It might be time for a clear out.
I am warming to Twitter, although I still think I must be missing something, and most days, my Twitter Feed holds very little for me, with a few exceptions. I mostly follow writers and comedians, and I have a few favourites, who I look out for – mainly Marian Keyes, Jenny Éclair, Aisling Bea, Jack Whitehall and Joe Wilkinson. These are all worth looking out for.
There have been a few threads I have really enjoyed following. Today's was #agathachristiename, with some very funny responses where Twitter Peeps gave their Agatha Christie character name, and suggested what they might look like. Mine is Florrie Thistlethwaite, a shy young housemaid with a west country accent and a shaky hand, not ideal for serving tea to Miss Marple, who failed to return after her day off, and was discovered with only her feet protruding from under a hedge and her shopping basket overturned. Another favourite thread from a few years ago was #addupyourbumtoafilmtitle. Just try it. It kept Mr C amused for weeks. “How about The Sound of Music….” I would love to hear of more funny Twitter threads; I’m sure there is a whole new world there just waiting for me, if only someone would point me in the right direction.
And the others, Snapchat, Tik Tok are apparently unsuitable for me because I’m too old. And I probably don’t have enough hours in my busy schedule to incorporate any more distractions anyway. I have had many recommendations for Netflix series I should be watching. Maybe one day I will get round to watching them, although I can’t help but feel guilty and as if life is passing me by if I watch too much TV. Mr C and I bingewatched ‘You’ last year and it just felt wrong. Maybe I really am just too much of a dinosaur.
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