On nearly going back to Twitter

I nearly went back on Twitter the other day. Not once, but several times. One of my very lovely relatives sent me a link to a tweet about Brexit on a WhatsApp message, so I found myself walking around in there and taking a look at everything for a little while. It was very tempting. I got as far as deciding on a new Twitter name and even thinking about what my profile picture would look like. But, no.

For all the witty commentary, not much had changed. I was in there for what, five minutes, and still left feeling shaky and more anxious than when I went in. If Twitter had been a door, I would have slammed it shut and run round the house closing all the curtains.

This came up in conversation with some writer-acquaintances recently.

‘I didn’t think I’d seen you around much,’ said one.

‘I left in April,’ I said.

‘You look well on it,’ said the other.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I am well on it.’

‘Have you missed Brexit?’

‘I find it pretty hard to avoid, wherever I am,’ I said.

’What have you done instead?’ said the other.

’Taken up the ukulele. Badly. But I do love it. I’m already out of practice.’

I wanted to say much more, about how writing seems to be coming back to me. And silence (are they the same thing?). About my preference for reading news in paper form articles, especially the Sundays, how I store up the ranty opinion pieces on Pocket for one long splurge on the weekend. About how my conversations are different. I leave my phone in one place when I come home in the evening, I wanted to say. I wanted to say how many novels I have read. But I said none of it. My friend was telling me a very funny story about a cat-meme she had contributed to. Again, the same longing to be part of it washed over me. Then I thought: no.


  1. Yes. – another Twitter escapee 

    (I wanted to post this response to your blog, but could not recall my WordPress password.)


  2. You made me yearn (again) to leave Twitter! But now I do a feminist history project on there with Tania and Jo — @OnThisDayShe if you ever fancy a peek — and that’s one of the joys of my life. I have however also created a reading chair at home where no devices are allowed and that’s helping me to read more again — a quiet space. Lovely to see you on Sunday, all the best.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It was a joy to see you too Ailsa. What a stonking poem. Truly. And it works both ways: you nearly made me rejoin while I waited at Manchester Airtport. I was a fan of OnThisDayShe in my final days there. Wonderful and necessary work. Oh well. With thanks again for lighting up this competition, Anthony

      Liked by 1 person

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