Things aren't going well with my digital self. I can't answer e-mails on time. If I do manage somehow, I get complaints that the replies are too business-like: 'I expect at least a little photo of that rugged Scottish landscape.' My profile on Facebook, the only community where I can be found anyway, is perhaps in an even sadder state.
In the meantime, other people are chalking up complete daily reports, with all sorts of interesting news. One goes to his own book launch. Another seems to have a very exciting sex life. And I think I'm the only one who hasn't got the Mexican flu yet.
We must not forget that Facebook is just one of those sites. Simply thinking of Twitter puts a weight on my shoulders. What do I have to tell the whole wide world? I don't actually have anything to do with this. I have enough on my hands, what with driving on the left here in Scotland, trying not to be honked, and standing in the wrong queue at the cash counter. That's me. How impossible would my potential followers be!
I am a boring grey digital mouse. I do know the new media - that's not where the problem lies - but it is impossible for me to keep up. At primary school, I could never get my clothes on in time after gym. While the rest walked out of the sporting hall, I would still be standing in my underwear. This feels just like then. Some time ago, someone said something in the papers: 'People who can't be found on network sites are pretty scary .' That must be me then. Scary, dull and drunk behind a glass of beer. Thanks, digital world.