How I learned to stop worrying and love Facebook

I have, in the past, been guilty of disparaging comments about social media.  I have poured buckets of vitriol on what I saw as the enemies of Tim Berners-Lee's dream of the Internet - the voyeuristic and inflammatory nonsense, the sheer inaccuracy of so much of the content, the disproportionate amount of spare time people seem to have for dross-creation, and pointless online activities.  I can hardy bring myself to type the phrase "cat videos".  If I am honest, and I always am, those narrow views are still firmly held, with one exception.

Sit down and have a swig of that stiff drink - I'm going to praise social media, well one bit of it anyway.

I took the plunge and set up a Facebook profile after losing my last job.  It was, at the time, said to be a powerful marketing tool, and I was about to try and go into business for myself.  I failed to grasp, however that it was an excellent marketing tool for people who knew how to use it.  When I found out I would have to initiate and maintain all manner of online relationships and cultivate a client-base, I was scared rigid and immediately deleted my account.  My venture was doomed before it started.

It was years later, on a particularly cold and blustery day in May in the seaside town of Brixham, that the whole Facebook debacle came to mind once more.  We were in Brixham to dive, but the weather had scuppered us again (you get used to this as UK scuba divers) so we decided to head into town and check out the new "Pirate festival" (whatever that was!)  My husband and young son thought it was great... me, less so.  It appeared to be an opportunity for lots of people to dress up as pirates and hang around together.  There was to be a record attempt, that we could, apparently join in:  The largest number of pirates in one location.  You had to be sporting an eye patch and hook/sword to qualify, which we promptly bought from a local shop. Good fun and frostbite were had by all (I was a bit bemused by it all) and we all agreed to come back next year with better costumes.

Six years later and we have a crowded diary of historical maritime reenactment events to attend over the summer.  We have serious, period-correct handmade accoutrements and a broad knowledge of the politics, maritime history and society of the late 18th Century.  We know more than we probably should about gunpowder (black powder, in these circles) and the weighting of swords.  And we have tremendous fun pretending to fight some pesky fellows in red coats, amongst canon and musket fire.

I have also revived my Facebook account in order to 'keep in contact' with the fellow reenactors I meet.  I began using it merely to share photos of events, but it has become much more over time.  I have developed the beginnings of what could be called friendships.  I find I share a similarly eclectic sense of humour with many of them, an appreciation of history, costume or engineering with some, physical acting with others.  My interaction with them is made much easier by the prompts of facebook, and typing my responses gives me time to analyse what people might mean, and develop decent conversations.  I'm pretty sure I'm forming relationships, and I look forward to seeing how they continue.  Facebook also allows me to weed out those contacts that I do not have anything in common with, and I don't even have to risk a face to face.

I don't think it's uncommon for people on the fringes of society to find common ground, but I had underestimated the usefulness of social media in helping me and those like me, socialise.  I had considered it a waste of bandwidth, fit only for those with verbal diarrhoea or a bizarre need to publicise every aspect of their lives (however dull or offensive) to everyone else.

Of course there are those who would use this data for evil commercial purposes, but I guess most of us are just trying to keep in touch.  So thank you Mr Zuckerberg, and sorry for all the bad press!