I’ve tried so hard to love Instagram. It’s fun to see what my nieces and nephews are up to even if I don’t understand the terminology sometimes; Nancy’s photos of street scenes from Shanghai amaze me; the work of Elle as she photographs the process of taxidermy enthralls me. I like impromptu photos. Just a brief glimpse of someone’s life. No need for a long narrative. A picture of a slice of cake doesn’t need a recipe. No need to give detailed pattern instructions for a piece of knitting.
And yet … I’m sorry but I just don’t love you Instagram. Maybe it’s because I have such a lousy camera on my phone that it’s not worth using. Maybe it’s because I don’t commute on the train or bus every day or sit in the car waiting for school pick-up so I don’t have snatches of time that would be perfect to whip out my phone and flick through. Maybe I just don’t want to make the time because of course I could check my phone at meal times, when I’m out with friends or during the interval at the theatre – but hey, that’s a topic to rant about on its own.
It seems the attraction of Instagram will remain lukewarm for the time being. Something to dip into every now and then rather than a “must check” every day. Meanwhile, this week my photos are here and not on Instagram. This may or may not become an irregular feature *.