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I’ve been keeping a low profile where my Mitchell’s Pain, uhmmm I mean Mitchell’s Plain aunty is concerned.  What with the wedding coming up at the end of the month and all.

However, two Sundays ago my sister persuaded me to go with her and my mother to a hen party planning tea. 

Only in my family, I tell you!

“Not a kitchen tea?” I asked, very surprised that my aunty agreed to anything as informal as a hen party.

I pictured us all – on a Sunday afternoon, naturally – in flowery sundresses (and straw hats with big flowers) around my auntie’s famous dining room table with all sorts of cream cakes and fancy sandwiches.  Politely applauding every time my cousin opened a gift.

That of course after secretly partying the night before.

Instead we’re going to a club a week before the wedding and getting down and drunk, or that’s how my aunty described the grand pre-event.

As usual the subjects of conversation varied vastly.

“I want to go on Twitter!” My aunty declared out of the blue.

“What???” we all gasped.  “Why???”

“Julius wants to ban Twitter,” she said.  “We all have to save it.”

“We must stand together and go on Twitter.” 

She vowed to persuade all the ladies at her sewing group to join Twitter.

“Abby, “she asked, “Are you on that Twitter?”  She figures I’m the most pc literate of the bunch.  And I am, but that doesn’t say much.

“Oh, and what is Twitter?” she asked before I could even answer her original question.

“Uhmmmm,” “Twitter is on the internet.”  “And yes, I am on Twitter.”

“You can tell people what you’re doing all day long. Or you can read with famous people are doing all day long.” I tried to give the shortened version.  Actually the only version now that I think about it.

“You have interesting things to share?”  She asked skeptically!  Helloooooo…sometimes.  Okay, almost never, but still.  Did she need to say that.

“Twitter is like Facebook,” I tried to end the conversation that was getting rather personal.

“In that case, let them ban it,” was her reply.