Tag Archives: twitter

When’s a tweet not a tweet?

25 Aug

at800

When it’s a postcard. No really, paper is back. But we’re not going as far back as tweets printed on ticker-tape. Thanks to at800, the humble postcard is the latest way to reach the friends and relatives you’ve not yet been able to drag kicking and screaming into the 21st century world of Twitter.

at800 has launched the UK’s first and only free postbox for your tweets. Of course, it’s not done out of the kindness of their hearts. What lies behind this clever wheeze is at800’s campaign to minimise the disruption that the rollout of 4G at 800 MHz may cause to Freeview services. at800 are in the process of sending out their own postcards to the households where signals may be affected. In the areas where disruption is likely, they will also be supplying free filters to block the 4G signal at 800 MHz and ensure Freeview services are unaffected.

If you like gimmicks that help spread the word then send a free postcard to a non-tweep. They must be living in an area where 4G at 800 MHz will soon be activated (you can check this on at800’s website). If they are then it’s as simple as sending a tweet with the hashtag #at800postbox and then following @at800tv so that they can DM you for address details. Your lucky recipient will then receive a postcard (yes, on paper!) with your neat little tweet on it (and of course lots of useful info about how at800 can help stop you missing the latest episode of Jeremy Kyle).

You may be wondering who I sent my postcard tweet to. I tried to think of someone for whom the loss of television would be a right royal pain in the behind. Someone like me: a parent. I hope my postcard spares her some stress and a few tantrums.

Thank you to at800 for inviting me to write about their postcard campaign. I did not receive any payment for doing this. Full information and a stack load of FAQs can be found on at800’s website.

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Wanted: a thick skin

5 Oct

Warning: Self-indulgent blog post.

Why do I blog? A question I often ask when I’ve sat up into the wee small hours writing a post and only my husband and mother (god bless ‘em for their loyalty) read it. Bloggers are warned not to get fixated on site stats but is there anyone who doesn’t?

Over the past few days, I’ve been asking myself “Why do I blog?” in the sense of “Why do I blog when sh*t like that can happen?”. I’ve ranted so much about my little blog’s eventful week that my rant tank is empty. So I’ll cut a long story short. A well-intentioned post of mine has caused offence to a couple of people. When I say “a couple” I don’t mean any more than that, I literally mean two. (Well, there were three but one was less abusive so I don’t count them.) One word describes how I felt about the force and manner of their reaction: gobsmacked. If you feel hard done by and want three words to encompass the fact I was asked to take the post down: knocked for six.

Ricocheting between tears of sadness and tears of indignation, I could quite easily have deleted my blog and my Twitter account. Social media suicide, I guess – the fashionable, techie way to do a Reggie Perrin in the 21st century.  It struck me like a great big sledgehammer that however little visited my blog might be it is still very public property and as such I am (as is any blogger) an unwitting target for the less polite, less measured people who inhabit the blogo- and Twitterspheres.

As a sensitive type, I find it easier to express my thoughts via a blog than I do when I’m required to think on my feet face-to-face. Yes, I hide behind a screen and in doing so can invest a lot of myself in what I write. What I’ve learnt over the past week is that if I want to be a happy blogger I must get myself a thicker skin. If I blog for me and for the people who are interested in what I write then why should I care what random people who stumble across an isolated post of mine think? Easier said than done.

J. R.  Bowen (I’m presuming this isn’t Jim) says that “The cyber bully is nothing more than a coward with a gadget”.  That’s something to remember on those days when your epidermis is feeling paper-thin.  Perhaps those bullies will learn that debate is more important than trying to dictate. In the meantime I’ll be shaving my skin to make it grow back thicker. Or is that my moustache?

Wanted: new knickers

26 Nov

I received a tweet today from the lovely Mammasaurus asking where the nelly I’ve been and whether I’ve lost my ‘mojo’. I feel like my bra strap has been twanged. Rightly so – my blog has been sadly neglected for a couple of months. At the moment I don’t even feel entitled to call myself a ‘blogger’. I’m more like a ‘blogged’. As for my mojo, well I’ve had a peek and I think it’s still there (unfortunately only in the blogging sense). I’ve felt a couple of twinges anyhow.

Trouble is, I’m a lazy little blogger. I sit and wait for inspiration for strike. This approach is probably quite effective unless, like me, you’re so knackered that inspiration would have to knock several times with a sledgehammer before any brain cells flickered into life. Much of my inspiration comes from people I know or have met and, when I wasn’t on maternity leave, office life. The problem is, this has enormous potential to offend. There’s been many a time when I’ve been itching to put fingers to keyboard but concluded that the likelihood of offence far outweighed the amusement value. I live in a small city where seven degrees of separation is six degrees too many – I rarely speak without checking over my shoulder and certainly never venture an opinion on someone as more often than not it will turn out I’m talking to their closest friend.

Looking back at topics that have inspired me in the past, I could blame the below for my silence (although somewhere in there should be demanding children and Twitter addiction):

  • I’ve accepted that the Jeremy Vine Show on Radio 2 is an insufferable mix of high and low brow, I can’t do anything about it and I’m tired of ranting about it (lest I should turn into the type of ranty person who calls into his show – god forbid).
  • I’ve accepted that keeping pink and princesses out of my 3-year-old’s life is a losing battle. Bring on the sparkles, I can handle it.
  • The weather’s turned cold and women have stopped getting their boobies out in the name of women’s rights. Shame.

Is my blogger’s block therefore because I’m too accepting? Perhaps I need to go back to what I do best – getting my knickers in a twist. And if I want to go from ‘blogged’ to ‘blogger’ then I’d better find a big pair.

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