Twitter

Today I want to talk to you about Twitter; or more specifically, hashtags (#).

On Twitter, hashtags help people who are all tweeting about the same thing to find other tweets about the same thing.

So, if you're watching something on TV and also tweeting about it (which is the main function of the site if you’re a comedian or arts journalist) you can put a hashtag at the end of your message, which then automatically becomes a link. Click on said link, and it takes you to a list of all the other tweets on the subject.

When loads of people are using the same hashtag to talk about something it becomes a trending topic, which means Twitter features it on the right hand side of the page. This can wind up being a funny mix of things, because people use the hashtag in a variety of ways.

- One way is to break or gather news stories. Today STV Edinburgh started the #whyedinburghrocks tag so they could put together a list of reasons using Storify.

- It can also be used to ask questions – the BBC are quite good at this, and often tell listeners or viewers a hashtag to use at the start of a programme so you can discuss it online. Similarly, this weekend I am doing an online Q&A with The Edinburgh Reporter about 12 books, where people can submit a question via Twitter using the tag #askaligeorge.

- You can also use hashtags to connect with other people of similar interests. When I tweet about the 12 books project I quite often use the #amwriting tag so other writers know it's a post that might be interesting for them. Similarly anyone attending the West Port Book Festival in Edinburgh over the next four days can use the hashtag #wpbf11 to find out what events are going on and what other punters will be at them.

- Another popular use is to play games (a recent favourite of mine was #hiphopgroceries - Will.I.Ham, for instance. Twitter is full of people who are overly fond of punning.)

- And some people use it to share advice. For example, at lunchtime today, one of the top trends was #arealboyfriend – aimed at facilitating discussion as to the best way a boyfriend can behave towards his partner. Some of these made me laugh a lot, although I fear that was not necessarily the intent.

I made a list of my highlights, anyway.

#arealboyfriend chase after you when you walk away
- That could be a boyfriend, or it could be a total stranger with mugging in mind. Just saying, boyfriends aren't the only people that give chase.

#arealboyfriend doesn't annoy you and make you cry.
- Duh, yes he does. If he never annoys you then you either don’t care/notice what he does, or you’re a robot, or you’re deluding yourself. A good boyfriend likely doesn’t do these things on purpose, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do them at all.

#ARealBoyfriend sees the pain in your eyes, while everyone else believes the smile on your face.
- This was from a man whose profile said he respecks females. I think he may be trying too hard. That or I have no soul.

#arealboyfriend kisses you on the forehead.
- So does your mum.

#arealboyfriend will give up his hoes !
- And other gardening equipment, the bastard.

#ARealBoyfriend will finger u ont bus
- LOL. How inappropriate.

#arealboyfriend plays an important role in the ecosystem as a pollinator, with larva considered problematic to vegetation in agriculture.
- Science wins again.

Stuff To Do

I have agreed to dedicate a couple of hours a week to doing regular blog posts and other admin type stuff for Ten Tracks, which is a music site where you can download lots of shiny local music for low low prices. And having just gone back to work 4 days a week, the slightly ad hoc approach to writing that I adopted over the last couple of months is not going to cut the mustard. So I made a list of the minimum amount of stuff I want to be doing on a monthly basis, at least until I finish the temp job in July. At which point I might take on more...

3 posts a week here on Daddy Long Legs
3 posts a week on 12 Books in 12 Months
1 proper article a week on Jobless Graduate
1 post a week for Ten Tracks
1 post a fortnight for Mslexia
Minimum 1 article a fortnight (the opposite fortnight!) for The Edinburgh Reporter
Minimum 1 article a month for IWeTwoThree
1 article a month for Broughton Spurtle (Oot)
1/2 a month for the Guardian / STV local

All of which is in addition to a daily 2000 words or so of my 12 Books in 12 Months. And hopefully the odd pitch for paid writing work. And I'm the marketing person for Dandy Highwaymen, which is a traveling theatre company being set up by my very talented sister over the next few months.

At what point does the adage 'spreading yourself too thin' apply?!

Blardy Stewdarnts

I was interviewed by STV journalist Cara Sulieman about my 12 Books in 12 Months project yesterday, and her report is here. Whilst looking at that, however, my eye was caught by the arguably far more interesting headline story on the Edinburgh and East page, namely "Pie thrown at Scotland's only Conservative MP."

The headline alone is brilliant. But how Scottish is the sentiment?! We don't fling rotting fruit and veg at our hate figures, oh no. We throw PIES. This one was probably bought at the end of a night out, deep fried in batter... discarded when the owner realised they weren't that drunk, and picked up in the morning as a hangover cure on the way to the protest.

Or perhaps not. To my utter delight, the article went on to say that this incident took place in ye olde university town of St Andrews. Ancient, organic, so-posh-nobody-local-can-afford-to-live-within-a-ten-mile-radius St Andrews! Home to some very Conservative people, certainly within the student population (who account for a third of residents). Presumably they were over at Fife Park* harassing poor people and were unable to come to Mr Mundell's aid on this occasion. Tellingly the piece continues, "It is not known who threw the pastry."

That's the St Andrews I lived in for four years. They don't throw pies, they throw pastries. OooOOooOOoo, hark at them.

Damn, I miss the cut and thrust of student debate. Although to my eternal regret, nobody threw baked goods at any MPs when I was there.

*Fife Park is one of the only two student halls of residence that falls somewhere near the line of affordable housing provided by The University of St Andrews. The walls are made of paper and it always smells of supernoodles. But it's OK, they're knocking it down and replacing it with the most expensive flats in creation, to encourage more princes to live there.

My Actual Day

Earlier on I was reading about the bravery of my fellow countrypersons who have been forced into action by snowmageddon, and it has compelled me to break my 8 day not-quite-silence on the subject.

Reports indicate that Scots have been handing out crisps, pushing cars about, and even complaining about the authorities as the M8, M80 and M74 were blocked with snow and drivers trapped in their cars yesterday and today. Such behaviour would never be countenanced in warmer times.

STV have been collecting people’s stories for their website, and it occurred to me that my own tale of an ordinary joe's snow misery was yet to be told. By me, anyway.

Zip!

The only bus currently serving my road flies by me this morning because it’s already full of commuters. I am comparatively unphased on account of already being hideously late but the reaction of the very young children who have always been on time for school is quite funny. In other news, I don't think dad gave them a once over before leaving the house this morning. The little girl has bare legs and according to my Met Office App it's -8°. Maybe she's in training to be some sort of decathlon competitor and it was an endurance exercise. Do they run decathlons for seven year olds? Probably.

Zap!

I am concerned that one of the office managers might be missing part of her brain, as she spent the morning organizing people to go through to Glasgow for a meeting tomorrow. Someone doesn’t use Twitter. Or read the news. I don’t know whether I should tell her to stop being so stupid, because I’m not really meant to be reading Twitter or the news myself. What a conundrum.

Zop!

On my way back home I nearly die; first in Dalkeith where I have to navigate my way along the top of a two-foot wall of snow that towers above the pavement like something out of The Snow Queen; then coming down Leith and Broughton Streets where the gritting efforts have resulted in loose, slushy snow lying over the top of sheet ice.

Zim!

Shuffle decides to play ‘Let It Snow’. Never let it be said in my presence that an inanimate object can’t have a sense of humour, because I will tell you this story again and again until you admit that you are wrong.

OK, none of this is very impressive. I haven’t dug any small children out of drifts with my bare hands, or tramped up and down the motorway handing out tea and biscuits. I haven’t even gone out to watch other people doing that stuff so I can report it. All I’ve done is slide about, get wet, and swear a bit.

Snow makes me boring.

Although, I did cling film the windows in the bedroom in an effort to keep some heat in.