A short blog as it may make me ill thinking about it.

I haven’t done it yet but am considering having a page on Facebook. No, not just to claim to have friends and followers and people who ‘like’ me. (Interesting how like has to be in inverted commas. Because obviously no one will actually like me.)

I must say first off it’s for business purposes. Not the commonly held belief that if I’m on it, I’m famous/important/popular. Look at my mates, my children, me in a restaurant, with my fish, on my wedding day. Look at me drunk, sober, with and without make-up, look at me on my bicycle and asleep… Just look at me!

Frankly I don’t want old school friends to find me. Or ex-boyfriends. Or ex-friends. Anyone in fact. I rank my privacy very highly. But I keep reading that a business must be on Facebook. Though I know many who aren’t.

And my worry is that it’s difficult to completely separate business and private life on these places. Or maybe that’s me misreading the way it works. Being a novice.

My first impression is it’s a messy place, resembling the way we think. Chaotic, disjointed, irrational. But… we wouldn’t dream of ‘publishing’ our thoughts raw like that. An example:

“Hey, I had the best pie and chips the other day my friend’s in Hawaii have to have my hair cut tomorrow I’m irritated by Professor Cox I was in the local press I’ve been to Mexico, Athens, Barcelona, Ipswich and the local school ‘likes’ me”

We try to edit and make our madness comprehensible. Maybe Facebook allows incoherent spillages like this. To me, it’s always been an awful thought.

Almost worse than this, with my head hung in shame and not able to meet anyone’s eye is cars.

Recently I’ve been driven about in a rather luxurious Range Rover. There are things in it whose purpose I don’t understand, it bleeps and whistles gently and the height just getting in requires superb flexibility of the hips (which of course I have).

This is my confession. I might actually get one.

I know, I know… the oversized bullies of the road, the ones who will ram you from in front, from behind, from anywhere to get to the riding stables/botox clinic/recycling centre with their one little girl called Olivia and her friend Olivia.

But of course I’d get an old Land Rover, a rust bucket which was noisy and offensive. Who cares if I knock into that darkly shiny Volvo 4X4 coming towards me on my side of the road?

Or that man who’s so close to my boot he can probably see my tape collection (he might think it’s Lionel Richie, he’d never guess Frank Sinatra was hiding in there.) I’ll put the brakes on quickly and wait for the impact.

Seriously though (well, more seriously), it’s something I want to resist but perhaps can’t. Survival of the fattest on the roads.

And payback for all those sub-human drivers who’ve bullied and threatened my husband on his motorbike every day. (Beaconsfield is hell he says.)

So there’ll be me on Facebook with an image of me and my army green Land Rover.

My ‘friends’ will abandon me and people good, decent people may decide not to ‘like’ me.

No, I don’t think I can do both. The logical thing to do is go with FB; when I get enough business I’ll buy a tank. Now let's discuss who has right of way.