Monthly archives "July 2011"

My First Week On Google+

Getting an invite to Google+ was like being invited to the coolest party ever. I couldn’t wait to get my account set up, stick a random picture on and then…. and then…. not much happened.

Then I realised, you have to ‘put people in your circles’, like ‘friending’ on Facebook or ‘following’ on Twitter. Otherwise, you’re just staring at a blank page with a really great picture of you own face.

Google+ suggested I follow Christina Trapolino; she seemed to know quite a bit about how to use this new social experience and had some great tips. I even joined in a couple of the discussions, but then people started to talk about Evernote and Meta something so I quietly left the conversation.

People were also talking about how the whole Google+ experience will be enhanced by posting great content and sharing interesting links. What are you an expert at which you could share with the rest of the Googleverse, they asked?

There’s the thing. If I have to make a list of things I’m an expert in it would include; procrastination, changing my energy supplier and making just about anything my husband’s fault. I have no great content, nothing to inspire people with. Should I get my coat and leave Google+, returning to the warm relative anonymity of Twitter?

No, I won’t be driven off by people more intelligent than me, I didn’t let it happen at school and it’s not gonna happen on the Interweb. In an effort to drag the conversations down to my level, I start randomly adding people and dragging them all kicking and screaming into my ‘following’ circle.

Then it got interesting. Jo Caulfield posted up a picture of a dog in a waistcoat, I found @vivmondo (Richard H.on Google+) and someone called Simon Hill posted ‘Googley Oogley Woogley’ – maybe it was worth staying after all?

@vivmondo, aka Richard. H
Worth a follow on either platform

The trouble is, I don’t know how I want to use G+ (yes, that’s what we experts call it). I know where I am with Facebook and Twitter.
Facebook is where I follow my friends, post photos of my dogs and tell people ‘I’m going to the pub’.
Twitter is where I say what I think, discuss The Apprentice whilst trying to watch it at the same time and get to read posts by some genuinely funny people. I don’t know anyone in my every day life who’s on Twitter and that suits me just fine.

And Google+ has too many decisions to make; what circle do I put you in? Do I post publicly or to my circles? Post to all my circles, a select few or an individual? If I put something I find funny on Twitter do I duplicate it on G+ and annoy anyone who follows me on both platforms? Arrgggh!

I will stay, for now, but Twitter is still my favourite site. If I say something stupid, it will quickly be lost in the streams and streams of posts – if someone bothers to search back 2 days to see it, that’s their own fault. It outdoes Facebook because my friends don’t post much and, when they do, it’s usually pictures of their children which isn’t funny (well, not always).

What’s your experience or expectation of Google+?

She Who Might Not Be Named

Please give me a name!

We ‘rescued’ this eight month old Yorkie over the weekend and she and our collie, Billy, are getting on like a house on fire!

Billy and the Dog with No Name

Meg loves her to bits but did point out to me that I now have an ‘old lady dog’.

We can’t decide what to call her – any ideas?

Day Drinking in Devon

Punch and Judy on Cathedral Green, Exeter

Jeff and I went ‘day drinking’ last Friday to celebrate his birthday. This is the best kind of drinking, of course, because it feels naughty and wrong.

As you know I have been on the Dukan Diet (see last post) but, after a just a short while of searching, I managed to find an article on the internet which said it was dangerous for me to be on it so it was imperative I stopped. The fact that it coincided with Jeff’s birthday is neither here nor there.

So, I was off for day drinking having not had a drink for three weeks; perhaps not my most thought out plan.

To ensure we didn’t just look like a couple of alcoholic losers, we began our session on Exeter Quay where there are a number of antique and retro shops. This gave the illusion that we were shopping and simply stopping for a drink along the way. As I was breaking my diet with alcohol, I also threw in a ‘burger board’ which we shared in the dark bar of The Ship Inn in Martins Lane.

Burger Board. Mmmnnnn!

It was a dry, warm day which was great because it meant I could wear the wedge sandals I bought two months ago in the misguided notion that we would have enough weather to wear them. Not only did they look great, they added around three inches to my height and, no doubt, made me look like a long-legged lovely. Jeff was doubtful, he still remembers the ‘knee high boot night out’ when it took me thirty minutes to stagger painfully along the high street in the name of fashion.

Your feet don’t look gorgeous after two hours

“New sandals? They’ll be killing you by tonight”. “No, they’re comfy because they might be high but they’re level. See?”

Having had my first drink at 3pm, by the time we arrived at Mama Stone’s bar at around 6pm I was pretty wobbly and my ‘comfy’ sandals had rubbed massive blisters on my little toes. Jeff was already smug at the fact that I’d almost broken my neck on a number of occasions as I attempted to navigate the many cobbled streets Exeter offers. For this reason, I fixed a smile on my face as we walked to the next bar and tried not to wince as each step removed another layer of skin from my swelling toes. No “I told you so’s” here.

Possibly the coolest place in Exeter

Of course, as Dr Dukan warns in his book, full of the evil liquid you are more likely to get the munchies (not his words, but that’s what he means). So, I decided a kebab was essential to round off our night and we ordered a large chicken doner – very bad decision. We ended up with a polystyrene box filled with overcooked chicken swimming in grease atop a stale pitta. I ate very little of it, but enough to remind me why I only fancy a kebab when drunk. It’s a bit like childbirth; absolutely awful at the time but after a few months you forget how hideous it was and think it would be a good idea to do it all over again.

I wimped out and changed to diet coke at around 8pm so we managed to last until the final train of the day (10.45pm for gods sake! They don’t do late in Devon) and were back in Copplestone by 11:30. Just a ten minute painful stroll home (still not letting Jeff know I was in absolute agony) and we were back in our house where I could kick off the offending footwear.


Perhaps I’m too old for day drinking?