It’s a funny old thing, this Twitter (#Twitter) business. Yesterday I found the baby to be in a particularly agreeable mood, as a consequence of which I could spend most of the day at my computer theoretically ‘doing jobs’. I did manage to eke out a blog post on mortgage hunting but this took about 3 times longer than normal due to my obsessive monitoring of David Walliams’ swim down the Thames.
For some reason I thought it’d be a good idea to install the TweetDeck app on my PC; this has been disastrous as not only is it completely unintuitive and as about as intelligible as a dashboard on the Starship Enterprise (dashboards? Did they have dashboards?), but it also keeps popping up alerts – sometimes timely, sometimes not – on DW’s progression down the river (#Thamesswim). When I combined this with the satellite-tracked view on the Sport Relief website I felt as if I was practically in the river with him*, and I found myself becoming The Authority for the Village on his arrival times.
It’s bizarre though how this meant my day panned out: an almost zero score on the productivity & mothering fronts; but top marks for helping be part of a community and contributing to that buzz. I say part of a community, but at the one point I actually left the house I could hardly get my legs to work correctly as they’d lost their motor functions through inactivity, and I was so shocked when a real human neighbour actually addressed me verbally rather than through @roaringkate I nearly fell over.
Nevertheless, it did motivate me to drag the family down to the river this morning to see D Walliams’ arrival, and it was suddenly so jolly to be with lots of other village people, literally, including the Kitchen Man and ladies from the Running Club. And, wadda y’know, D Walliams was the first ‘celebrity’ that DS1 encountered (in a teashop in Primrose Hill) and now he’s the first that DS2 has seen**. How bizarre is that. It’s a sign. Recorded for posterity on You Tube.
Now to try to turn off these friggin’ pop up Tweets. I’ve got a dinner party and a run to gear myself up for. 24 hours monitoring other people having a life is more than enough for me.
* I have actually swum many times in the Thames; after about 12 minutes it’s already a bit nippy so for 12 hours is madness.
** For a fair summary of this experience see Zoe Williams’ article in the Guardian. Mothers of Berkshire unite!