Deleting friends

How satisfying is a clear out? You buy stuff, you collect, hoard, can't let it go. "Maybe I'll wear it again...?" You think, "I can't get rid of it, I used to love it. The holes mean nothing to me."

And then one day you start to tidy up, sort out, make a pile for charity, and suddenly you can't stop and your wardrobe is 50% smaller and you start to complain you have nothing to wear.

Cathartic, isn't it? 

Well, this weekend I did just this. Instead of clothes though, I had a Facebook sort out, and once I'd started deleting friends I couldn't stop. I'm still going back to the list to de-friend just one more. It's an addiction.

The first to go were people I didn't know/recognise. I thought I didn't have any of those so they were a bit bewildering to find. Next was anyone particularly annoying, whiny, a little bit too racist.. Then people I wasn't really friends with at school, people who I'm sure are equally unlikely to wonder what I'm doing with my life as I am for them. 

And of course people I just didn't like. 

Oh, and a couple who I actually do like, are interesting but invite me to some event or other every 2 days. 

I felt mean. I felt powerful. I felt godlike. "Like flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport." Except somewhat less violent. 

I wondered briefly if anyone would notice, or care if they did. I suspect not. 

It's possible my reader numbers will take a hit. I can only wait and see.

All was going swimmingly and most satisfyingly until I realised that I had been defriended! What? Someone I used to work with and was actually quite close to. Someone who once tried to spoon me. That crossed line I forgave him for. This is unforgivable. I would defriend him immediately if he hadn't already got me first.

So I'm curious to know what his reasons were for a clear out, and why I didn't make the cut. Did I complain too much? Did I post too many self-indulgent and badly spelled blogs? Or did he just decide he didn't like me after all?

I can't ask him. If he's not on Facebook he doesn't exist anymore. You know how it works...you aren't real if you aren't there. I can't even remember his name now. 

But does that mean I don't exist now for all those people I deleted? 

I don't think I mind that actually. So farewell Facebook friends. I probably won't see you around, which is exactly the point really. 

Swimming

In the tradition of all women, one glimpse of the sun and I feel like it's time to do some exercise. Not that there's much prospect of me going anywhere bikini-worthy anytime soon but still. Just in case. 

Actually it's not about shaping up for me really. I just kind of like that buzzy feeling you get in your limbs after a ballet class; or the flying feeling of cycling; or the joy of climbing trees. It's happiness. 

However, since returning from my travels I've had a notable break from movement. Dance classes are out of reach for my draining bank account (damn it India!), running hurts and I'm kind of a fair weather cyclist if I'm honest. 

But you'll all be pleased to hear Isadora is back in my life, complete with wicker basket and yellow helmet. I'm incredibly glamorous. And even though I have not plucked up the courage to get back in a leotard and into class, I have played "badminton" with my flat mate and today I went swimming.

Ok. Considering I like exercise, I like baths, the sea, the feeling of my limbs underwater, I am a bad swimmer. Three lengths and I had to have a little rest. Then another little rest every time I reached the wall. I could tell my arms would rather I drowned than have to continue moving. 

I may have held up the other woman in the slow lane. Sorry about that. 

Yes, I feel like my whole body has had a workout. No, I was not in actual harmful pain like when I try to run. But when I got out of the pool I thought I was going to fall over and I struggled to lift my arms high enough to take my towel off the peg. 

In fact I felt so awful I had to buy myself a pulled pork sandwich on the way home to make it all better. It was the best sandwich I've ever eaten. 

Needless to say, I will go again soon. For the post-swim treat. Just like when mum made me go to swimming lessons and bribed me with a Bertie Burger and chips. Clearly that's the way to encourage me: food. 

In defence of the actual act of swimming, I must say that it's a very nice pool and if you do backstroke you can see the sky. I really enjoyed it for the first two and a half minutes. 

Now, to further reward myself I'm sat in a beer garden drinking Pimms. For the fruit obviously. My arms are too weak to lift the glass so I had to pick something that came with a straw.