Blonde's Eye View: Internet is ruining lives
COMMENTby Angela Clarke
Like thousands of others I've been to a festival this summer. I was at Port Eliot for three days and it felt like three weeks. In a good way. Normally I feel like time is running away from me faster than Usain Bolt from Glasgow.
How could three days and four nights packed full of writers, poets, comics, bands, DJs, and all the delightful artistic side servings of madness you get at a festival feel so luxuriously long?
The answer hit me like a lightning bolt: it's because I wasn't always on my phone.
Just a few weeks ago I declared I couldn't function without my mobile. (And that was still as true at a Cornwall festival, as it is in Westferry Circus.)
I used my phone to call and text several vital communications: "I'm by the river next to the man riding the cycling piano, where are you?" "They're doing pints of Pimm's for £4 do you want two?" "Corporate guy, Church's brogues, no socks, dancing stiffly with Amy Winehouse drag artist behind you: LOL." "Just heard a woman call for her kids: Marmaduke, Juniper, Cliché!" And I had enough 3G to post a few Instagrams, because of the sunsets.
When I was back in my office, multiple applications open on my computer, reading the news, updating social media sites, emailing, working, watching the time fly by I realised I'm clicking my life away.
At a festival, without constant access to wi-fi, whether I was dancing to Super Freak or swimming in the River Tamar, I was in the moment. I was alive. I didn't have one eye and one thumb on something elsewhere.
It pains me to write this because I love it so, but the internet is ruining our lives.
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