A General Update

Just a catch up with you all, really

Writing this as a bit of a general update, really. A round robin to my motley crew flock of wise owls, tweety pies and creepy dark raven types.

Much as I like putting stuff out on substack, I do miss the banter of Twitter. The quick fire of it.

I know I’m supposed to do the token “My life is so much better without Twitter” bollocks. Post pictures of myself digging on my off grid allotment with ‘real people’ or stuffing anti agenda leaflets through beige doors whilst saving kittens.

But truth is, I miss it. I miss you guys.

I miss the way there’d always be someone around at crazy o clock when I couldn’t sleep to bore stupid about a dream I’d had.

I miss popping up on a Rishi tweet and giving him much deserved grief.

I miss trying to think of things to say that might make someone smile or spit out their coffee.

I miss “I like your hat!” just as much as “Thank you for your succinct, well observed take on global events.”

Because, let’s face it, most of us want our voices to be heard. Connection. Interaction. Every person skimming a stone seeks a ripple or else, they’d simply smile at the river.

But Twitter, remains the bastard who binned me. The charismatic JR I try so hard to hate.  But there’s just something about that dirty ole blue bird that still makes me wanna pole dance for him.  Can’t shake it.

“Boundaries Julie!” My inner life coach screams as she watches all those who’d said “never again” eat their words and get back in bed with the devil when Musk took over. But far as I can see, it’s still pretty much the same shop. Just that Elon has managed to brand and manipulate it with his …ahem….‘personality’.

So yeah, still won’t go back unless I’m properly reinstated. It’s my line in the sand. My self respect. I can’t slink about like an earwig in the undergrowth. I’m either somewhere as me, my true self, accepted….or I’m not.

For a long time I tried at TruthSocial and GETTR to make it work. They were the break up flings. My rebound. But they’re not me.  A few reasons. Because those platforms attract people who were thrown out of Twitter, they are brimming with racists. You know when you see someone and think “yeah they get it, I like this person”. You scroll their memes, grinning like a muppet ‘til all of a sudden it’s hand over eyes time and it’s like a filthy builder just took a crap in your newly cleaned bathroom.

Yeah that.

Plenty of those types on GETTR and Truth. Everything is the fault of those nasty refugees, especially those with dark skin, who apparently spend all their time in five star hotels training for their roles in a new secret army whilst waddling around full on tax funded croissants and Tropicana.

I’m not saying there aren’t plans for people to be used in these ways, by the way. Government are devious and despite what they outwardly say, they love the division created by ‘refugee crisis’. But the ‘right’ want to use this to distract you from the real WEF villains and to create their own heroes in the form of Farage, Robinson, Tice  etc

Not forgetting swamp-draining, wall-building daddy of em all, Trump of course. Truth and GETTR are awash with American politics and the Q-anory bullshit story that accompanies. I have never gotten that one. Surely even the Q pushers must know by now that we are at XYZ game and it’s down to U and I.

I must add that there are some lovely, wonderful people on those platforms too, many who were Twitter friends - just not enough of them and not always when I’m around.  It’s not about ego or follower count. It’s the difference between skimming that stone on a river in the hope of it somehow , *just maybe* being carried out to sea. Or lobbing it in a puddle and it going absolutely fucking nowhere.

So this new year, I ditched them.

On to personal updates.

Many of you will recall the ongoing saga of my son and school. Our struggles. Well, the last year, I’ve been trying my hardest to find a suitable high school for him. You may recount that he has additional needs and behavioural issues. So whilst all my mum mates are agonising over oat milk lattes as to whether private tuition and postcode hopping have bagged little Tristram a place in the local Grammar, only one school out of 26 have come back and said they will even take my son, can “meet his needs”.

This is Tory “Choice”, folks.

We have the choice of ONE school. And I’m not sold. They have a shit Ofsted - bullying concerns noted, pupils have been leaving and the whole thing has a ring of “webuyanychild.com” about it. Well I’ll be fucked if my son’s being cash injection to top up some thirsty Miss Hannigan. But what do I do?

It’s easy for all these bread baking barefoot Beths to tell me to home educate but if you’d lived with some of the stuff I do, maybe you’d realise why I would find it difficult to facilitate that. The last thing I need is on top of everything else to have the council pecking my head to ‘demonstrate his learning’.

There is a school that we really liked that have a place free in 2024, so I’m considering approaching them to fund tutors, maybe forest school etc for a year until then. Not sure if they’d do it, but it would work out a damn sight cheaper than their proposed offering and with local authorities, money talks.

And then there’s me.

Still here, whistling like a budgie through the bars. Sometimes to the tune of “Heaven knows I’m miserable now” but hey ho, I’m trying.

I have many things that others don’t.

Enough to eat. Warmth. Shelter. Health.  People who love me.  Too much make up, way too many dresses and few events to wear them to. But we must go forth and make our own occasions. Wear our beautiful things to go into town, to take the bins out, anything.

Shake our tail feathers in the toxic traffic.

People need to see our colours, our faith in life, our smile. And you need to feel your own. Face yoga for the lazy. So do it.

Smile with me.

Whatever is going down globally, personally, if you can still smile about something, any tiny thing, your spark has not died.

And remember, one spark can ignite the world.