I've changed my page colour and gone all red and vibrant with a hint of cosy. It's redder than my new hair colour. I've also got into Twitter a bit. It's not all mindless and suits my ever so slightly compulsive streak. So far, I've had three followers. One of them left within a week, the other had a very bizarre web page which seemed like some kind of anti-Semitic cult (I blocked him) and the other is the TES resources page, which must have automatically cross referenced my email which makes up part of my Twitter address. Still, it's quite nice to be followed by the off-shoot of a national institution.
I decide to follow Jeanette Winterson after reading her wise and feisty memoir 'Why be happy when you can be normal' about growing up with a megalomaniac for an adoptive mother. The book revisits the events which inspired 'Oranges are not the only fruit', Winterson's first novel. A wonderful book that I would recommend to anyone. In terms of Twitter, it might be viewed as a bit weird or even sad to be 'following' intelligent 'celebs' like Ms Winterson, Mark Gattiss and the bubbly historian and keeper of Royal Palaces Lucy Worsley but, on the other hand, it's quite fun. Like a sort of virtual dinner party with people who seem rather interesting, as super Twitterer Stephen Fry might put it.
I get so many news tweets from The Gruniad that I have to scroll down a long way to see what Lucy's up to: presenting a programme on BBC 4 next week about an eccentric female culinary historian who went to Africa and, later on, wrote a history of British food. So it's not all mindless drivel, despite an actor informing his followers, of whom I am currently one, that Virgin Trains smell of wee. Meanwhile Giles Fraser informs me he lost his jacket before appearing on News Night and felt under dressed whilst conversing with one of the brothers Milliband at some fancy reception or other. I'm sure such an interesting cultural life fits in nicely with running an inner London Parish. Whatever, it really is quite diverting to read about the lives of mildy interesting actors, writers and liberal clerics, whilst commuting to work on a packed out bus, while the rain just keeps on raining and I suffer from start of term nerves and wish I existed in a less-exhausting environment.
As for my own tweets, well it's a bit like that Billy Idol song 'Dancing with Myself' but, who knows, maybe one day I'll be famous enough to delight 1,550 followers by commenting on the smell of the Cornish pasty outlet at Euston station as I pass through on my way back up north? Meanwhile, I'll curl up with 'The Casual Vacancy' and try and have a chilled out weekend.
Dancing with Myself