Well, it finally happened — I dipped a toe into the confusing world of TikTok. For those who don’t know, it’s an app where teenagers watch each other lip-synching and doing dances and generally cavorting. It’s baffling.
I’m aware that it’s for people half the age I’ll publicly admit to, but my god-daughters insisted. Apparently some me-themed TikToks (the “Licky Licky” episode of Judge Rinder and my more heartfelt moments on GMB) were going viral.
Well, I took a perplexed peek, felt very flattered then scarpered. TikTok is not meant for people who can remember Opal Fruits and fax machines.
Of course, even my five minutes on their app will have created tonnes of new data to float about the digital universe. Because of course every time you nip online, the internet learns a little more about how to sell you stuff.
That said, it’s not without its upsides. Often the all-powerful algorithm understands me better than I do myself. There have been a few slip-ups (I don’t need quite as many ads about vaginal dryness) but on the whole it gets me terrifyingly right.
It’s particularly excellent at curating my YouTube. A line of code somewhere knows I adore ice-skating, women’s gymnastics and philosophy, so every time I log on it’s built a delicious little smorgasbord of old Open University lectures and bits from the 1984 Winter Olympics (sadly, it’s not found Bertrand Russell doing a triple axel then landing on the parallel bars, but one lives in hope).
Recently, though, it’s also been throwing out loads of videos on how to be happier. Maybe it’s because I was researching self-help books (for a friend) or maybe the algorithm has just decided I need some cheering up.
Either way, squeezed somewhere between Ludwig Wittgenstein and Simone Biles, I’m now being offered multiple clips promising the secret of a more joyful existence.
In the interests of research, I watched a few and everyone agreed: surround yourself with great mates. Interestingly, that doesn’t mean the ones who are just there for the hard times (there’s a toxic type who are only there when times are tough ... they love to crowbar themselves into the drama). No, the best and finest ones are those you can call when things are actually going well.
I recently got a bit of very excellent news I can’t share with you yet (hold tight for a few weeks) — and a friend who knows exactly how good it is got on the blower to congratulate me. He had no reservations about telling me how thrilled he was and it filled me with the purest kind of gladness.
It said everything that was relevant and necessary about this wonderful person ... because the best friends are there for you through thick and thin, for better just as much as for worse (and — what’s more — they’ll know you better than any algorithm).
If you find some, never let them go.
In other news...
Impressive, considerate and kind — Bill Turnbull was a true journalist
I was getting up very, very early to present for Good Morning Britain over the last few weeks and it scrambled my brains.
I wasn’t just missing my beauty sleep, I was missing my “not murdering people” sleep — and for the first time in my life felt real understanding of my former clients at the Old Bailey.
It all gave me a renewed sense of how magnificent those journalists are. I’m amazed at how they can do it all year long without going feral.
None was more impressive, more considerate and kinder than the great Bill Turnbull, who died last week. He was just as lovely as he seemed to be on telly — and there was never a moment when you left him feeling anything other than good about yourself.
He was also a true journalist, for whom it was never about the fame or perks but the opportunity to bring real news to the whole world. He’ll be missed … he was one of the good ones.
