Chapter One – An Unexpected Start to a Sunday Morning
Chapter Two – Sleeping on Your Front
Chapter Three – Destination Obal B
Chapter Four – Half a Hot Dog in a Handbag
Sunday morning into the afternoon, somewhere in the city.
I appear to have turned into a Facebook bore.
I know, Facebook. Like, who would bother when you’ve got Twitter, and Instagram? I just used to go on it for the occasional nose, and maybe once or twice I posted a pic of me and various other people getting drunk, or one of Corky the cat doing his cute-sy stuff. I maybe posted something once or twice a month.
I never posted up inspirational quotes about love, friendship and/or fitness, or a bet that 97 percent of my friends would never share this earnest quote about cancer, or reply to a post with one word, and preferably a word that was flattering, that described me.
But now? Now I seem to do all the above. And yet at the same time, I have ten times the number of friends on Facebook I used to have and people keep sharing my shite. Those inspirational quotes seem to be very popular indeed, and my Facebook friends appear to love all those sickly pictures and videos of cute kids I keep posting.
And not one person has made a sarcastic comment about this: Celebrating our 20th year of marriage. Can’t believe we’ve been together and so happy for so long. Love you so much baby. You’re the best which was posted a week ago.
20th year? Well, that ties in with the dodgy wedding pic on the landing I guess. Continue reading