There’s been an influx of new¹ social networks recently, such as Threads, Mastodon, and Bluesky. And to some extent, I’ve tried to keep up with them. But if anything, I’ve noticed that my use of social media, in general, has been dropping.

I used to use Twitter for talking about everything, and Instagram for posting my photography. But then Glass came along and for a while my serious photography was going there, and then BeReal made me want to save a photo for them every day. As for text content, there’s been Micro.blog, Mastodon, and Threads that I’ve tried as alternatives to Twitter.

However, all I tend to use now is just Instagram, Twitter/X, and Mastodon. Instagram is where my friends and family tend to be, and that’s where I post photos of what I’m up to, and also any real photography. Mastodon is where I’ve found a lot of tech bloggers and developers have flocked to, so I’m there for that crowd. And I still haven’t given up on Twitter/X, because I’ve found it to still be the best place for current events, football content, and a bunch of tech people are still there. And when I say, I use these three platforms, that’s not the same level as before. I used to try and read every tweet in my timeline, both on Twitter and Mastodon, and I’d spend countless hours scrolling through Instagram.

Now, I’ve got notifications turned off for everything, and I’d say I browse Twitter/X slightly regularly. But I only really go on Instagram and Mastodon now when I want to post something. I haven’t found them to be good places to browse. I get too sucked in when using Instagram, and I haven’t yet cultivated a good enough following list for me to spend a lot of time in Mastodon².

I’ve found that right now, I’m more interested in people in the real world than on the internet. That’s not a dig at anyone I’ve talked to online. But it doesn’t replace talking to people in the physical world.

I think the reason why I’m preferring to write for my blog over social media, is that it’s a more biased relationship. It allows me to collect my thoughts, and then express them in whatever form I feel fits the content and context. And then if people want to reply in any way, they can do so via email, Mastodon, X, etc. But, at a slower pace, and also in any which way they feel relevant.

The real-time speed and perceived urgency of social media are reasons why I’ve stepped back from it a bit. So, if you’ve sent me a message online or by email, know that I’m probably not ignoring you. I either haven’t got around to reading it yet, or I haven’t yet found time to think and reply.

Written: On a train from London to Kings Lynn. ↺

People tend to think that I’m a bit weird, because I’m quite fond of a long train journey. Especially when I’m travelling alone. I find it a much more enjoyable experience than any other form of travel.

When I think about why this might be the case, the word that immediately comes to mind is “slow”. But that’s not quite the exact reason. I think it’s because the experience of a long train journey is that it feels slow. Not as in it feels like it’s taking too long, instead, it feels slow because the journey is more relaxed.

This may be just me. But when I get on a train, whether I’m trying to get somewhere urgently like a morning commute or a long journey where there isn’t really any rush, it’s like I’ve given myself an allocated amount of time to do whatever I want.

Let’s say you’re on a 3-hour train ride. You know that you can’t influence the duration, and avoiding any possible delays, you also know the time of your arrival. Which means, for a period of time, you’re free.

You’re free to spend your time reading, watching a movie, listening to music, or even just some time to yourself to sit and think while you look out the window. Better yet, you could do a collection of things.

I tend to use that time to relax, listen to some music, catch up on social media, maybe watch a video or read something, and probably a good chunk of it is spent looking out of the window, while my mind wanders.

I may be alone in this, but a journey in a car or plane is always second best to a train in my opinion. Especially when compared to being on a plane. The whole ordeal of rushing to an airport, going through security, finding your gate, and all of the waiting in between, really bugs me.

A lot of people like to comment on how “chilled out” I am. Like it’s just a part of my personality. But I think it’s more something that I’ve learned to cultivate. Maybe I’m calmer than the average person, but I think it’s decisions like taking the slow option, not rushing myself, or inviting any unneeded stress that makes the difference.

Written: On a train journey from Kings Lynn to London.

John Bull (@garius) posted a great story on Twitter, about one of the announcements at Embankment tube station, and a voice that suddenly went unheard.

It is election season. The world is busy and rubbish.

But it is also Christmas.

So take a breather and let me tell you a story about London, trains, love and loss, and how small acts of kindness matter.

I’m going to tell you about the voice at Embankment Tube station.

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

Just before Christmas 2012, staff at Embankment Tube station were approached by a woman who was very upset.

She kept asking them where the voice had gone. They weren’t sure what she meant.

The Voice?

The voice, she said. The man who says ‘Mind the Gap’

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

Don’t worry, the staff at Embankment said. The announcement still happens, but they’ve all been updated. New digital system. New voices. More variety.

The staff asked her if she was okay.

“That voice,” she explained, “was my husband.”

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

The woman, a GP called Dr Margaret McCollum, explained that her husband was an actor called Oswald Laurence. Oswald had never become famous, but he HAD been the chap who had recorded all the Northern Line announcements back in the seventies.

And Oswald had died in 2007.

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

Oswald’s death had left a hole in Margaret’s heart. But one thing had helped. Every day, on her way to work, she got to hear his voice.

Sometimes, when it hurt too much, she explained, she’d just sit on the platform at Embankment and listen to the announcements for a bit longer.

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

For five years, this had become her routine. She knew he wasn’t really there but his voice – the memory of him – was.

To everyone else, it had just been another announcement. To HER it had been the ghost of the man she still loved.

And now even that had gone.

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

The staff at Embankment were apologetic, but the whole Underground had this new digital system, it just had to be done. They promised, though, that if the old recordings existed, they’d try and find a copy for her.

Margaret knew this was unlikely, but thanked them anyway.

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

In the New Year, Margaret McCollum sat on Embankment Station, on her way to work.

And over the speakers she heard a familiar voice. The voice of a man she had loved so much, and never thought she’d hear again.

“Mind the Gap” Said Oswald Laurence.

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

Because it turned out a LOT of people at Embankment, within London Underground, within @TfL and beyond had lost loved ones and wished they could hear them again.

And they’d all realised that with luck, just this once, for one person, they might be able to make that happen.

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

Archives were searched, old tapes found and restored. More people had worked to digitize them. Others had waded through the code of the announcement system to alter it while still more had sorted out the paperwork and got exemptions.

And together they made Oswald talk again.

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

And that is why today, even in 2019, if you go down to Embankment station in London, and sit on the northbound platform on Northern Line, you will here a COMPLETELY different voice say Mind the Gap to ANYWHERE else on the Underground.

It’s Oswald.

Merry Christmas everyone.

— John Bull (@garius) 11 December 2019

When I started to read this story, I was thinking that maybe the archived recording would be found and then a copy sent to Dr McCollum. I never expected the voice to be digitised, restored, and then put back in use.

The fact that it’s only used in the Embankment tube station on the Northern Line makes it even better. It’s amazing that people went the extra mile and put in the work to make it happen.