Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

Self-selecting, biased and incomplete data, but still interesting demonstration of paper of choice across the country (I'm deep in Guardian country, though that's not what the townsfolk would lead you to believe).

"Winston? Charisma? Do you think?"

[Yes, this from a tweet by Edina]

"There comes a point in your life when you realize who REALLY matters, who NEVER did, and who ALWAYS will." This is from a post that apparently is Hot on Google+ (I've already done that joke about "What's hot on Google+?" haven't I?), which is either gloriously ironic or a disturbing dabble in post-modernism, and which was by Paris Hilton.

Oh F...ortuna. It occurs to me that the youngling was probably born about the time of that song. Oh what a world it seems we live in.

Anyhoo,

I would prefer this not to be true. I'm still on it, but the tumbleweeds sprouted long ago, after it became apparent the owners saw it as a free stock photography site for them and anyone willing to pay. It just became an endless round of incensed rows over inept and clumsily implemented changes, except unlike Twitter, the fury wasn't against outsiders but the very system itself.

And in other news:
- Just because, well, the world could have been very different.

- The world is more different than you can ever remember.

- The world is tempting.

I can't decide if the last is the height of suicidal folly or just fun and pretty damn awesome.

Speaking of which, on Saturday I spent the entire day surrounded by Morris dancers (I was not one). The best bit was the contrast between sides, so those in green tweed gathering beside the steampunk side (wait, run that by me again, not only are there Morris dancers with goggles on their top hats, the Morris world supports enough groups to allow and even drive such diversification?). Though by the end of the day I was suffering a surfeit of capers (and bells, and heys, both shouted and danced) and had to retreat to a toy shop for emergency Lego (ok, so I wandered in and found they label their minifig bags, thus scuppering the official potluck marketing strategy) and had come to the conclusion that the Morris Circle or whatever the archoverlordsofthedance are called really need to allow new additions to the little black book. I managed to walk away from one side dancing one dance down an alley to find another outside Waitrose doing the same dance to the same music. It was like walking having digital on at the same time as terrestrial. And it wasn't quite you've-seen-one-you've-seen-them-all just you've seen half-a-dozen and you've seen most of them.

And then Sunday was seeing my uncle's family, and I've done this.

Anyhoo,

My cousin's on Twitter. Therefore I've rummaged and discovered we have one mutual follow (and no mutual followers, just the same number of them). His stream is all football and swearing (and hangovers) [so what's mine? Weather and flowers and dawn and Carcasonne and politics and musicals and words and quirk and baking and mocking and corporate whorage and actual whorage and juxtaposition. Apparently]. I knew about the football. The swearing's probably the oddest thing. He only ever mumbles, head hanging, mouth open, shoulders hunched forward, and only opens up slightly near his younger sister. Some how it just seems so unlikely that he'd ever say "cunt!"

So I had a look at who he follows. They included such magnificent bios as "out injuried but still focased on my game" and [gibberish which I've just realised is Blackberry code].

All of which means we went to theirs yesterday. So BroSIL by Tube, while I drove ma pauvre mère up to nearly the Risk so she could pick up something from Jean le Wis's, while I sat waiting to get onto Piccadillyanydilly and then had to adlib to my uncle's (past Horrids, turn by the cruisy Tesco) because my mother took the A-Z with her (or actually just put it out of sight).

Driving's quite nice, except for the possess your soul in patience parts, but, well, you just have to be. It's bizarre how similar spring and autumn are in the colours of the trees, the toxins to prevent the new leaves being eaten showing before the chlorophyll forms to swamp them. But most of the trees are already creeping away from raw yellowness.

So I got to my uncle's at a reasonable time according to the dash, which is on GMT. Mummikins appeared hours later. We sat talking (I have half a brown face), wandered down to the river, sat talking outside, inside, a pub, wandered back losing an aunt along the way (how? You live here, and your children know the route, which sort of suggests it's not the first time they've walked it. Except their father is also largely their mother, though don't quote me on that).

Then more food and more talking, and Christmas presents.

By the way, if you don't know what Carcasonne is buy it and play it. Which is the point I decide that arbitrarily including every Tweeted subject would take too long for its arbitrariness level.

Anyhoo,

I really must go to less than three city sometime.

And yes, this is quite recognisable, ignoring the lumpiness in parts.


Good read on Putin.

And guess who's been following the French election Twitter and indulging in silly conversations on Facebook?

[For the muddled, French law forbids publication of any election results before the official announcement, so #radiolondres appeared on Twitter discussing the cost of flights to The Hague and Budapest, or the weather in The Netherlands and the country that lies next to Italy, or the battle between the Rolex and the Flamby]

Also guess who got nominated yesterday to be the Social Media Nexus Synergising Coordinateur for the choir, and promptly handed 'Twitting' duty to someone with a smart phone (current results for the choir's name: No Tweets. But there is a Facebook page, with a whole one fan. Ooh, I wonder if there's a budget to buy rewards for our FB fans and prompt interaction, and as the foremost, and most recent, fan, and poster, clearly I should be monetarily congratulated).

So if anyone has any photographs, video, reviews, or anything else of the choir that isn't actually something I've done (I wouldn't want it to appear to be a one man band however much it's a one fan band), do let me know. Because, well, you're more likely to be able to find suitable materials than most of the group. And before you protest your technological illiteracy I have two words for you: "web log".

Anyhoo,