Boo boo in select company

Boo boo in select company
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Friday 25 October 2019

My Social Media Day

Wake up at 6 a m to the radio 4 news. Comfort myself that there are fewer lies than on B B C news on television. Contemplate the day ahead, but it won't go away, so decide to face it. Find the kettle.

   With the first cup of tea bag comes the beginning of my dialogue with social media. On my e mail promotions are my daily doses of nonsense. First there is the funeral instructions -- how did they find out I was an old woman? That is followed by Harry's razor. I don't have a beard - yet. For heaven's sake. Then the one of Scamfuck. A bit late in the day; I am disgusted, but my Ad Block is clearly not working.

   What kind of e mails do I get? A few from my Writers' Group, which are routine, a few from another writers' group, which are reminders to get something written. I am not a 'write to order' kind of person, so those can be safely ignored. My banks from India admonish me about lack of transactions, threats to close my accounts down.  They'll save me the effort of doing it myself.

  I browse Twitter and Facebook in that order. Look at Peston and decide Lewis Goodall is more useful. Where are we with Brex-bloody-it? Hopeless. I give Andrew Marr a safe berth; can't stand his oily lies.

 I have a few friends on Facebook who send daily greetings and wise quotes. I don't open them. Wish they'd just fester like the rest of us, fuming and fretting. I hate even more those posts of flowers and candles and ceremonial altars. Then I have the instructions: wish so-and-so a great birthday. Now I don't send birthday greetings to anyone Facebook has thrust in my face. Cheek! I wish there was a way of getting rid of Facebook and yet keeping in touch with my family in India. They are all there on Whats App and Facebook.

   Occasionally Facebook treads on my memories, mangles them, makes me sad. Who gave them the license?

   I get my own back on the media by cursing the Tories with vigour.

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