THE start of a new year can have the most dramatic effect on people.

Many start that diet and fitness plan they’ve been putting off, while others make resolutions to stop smoking or give up chocolate.

For me however, the dawn of a new year has had an even more dramatic effect. It’s spurred me on to finally update my blog!

I can already hear gasps of astonishment reverberating down the corridors of the Advertiser office alongside muffled murmurs of “about time”.

But in my defence, I have had a valid excuse.

For those of you who don’t know, I gave birth to my gorgeous daughter Ruby Grace on July 6th, 2007. The months that followed are all a bit of a blur – babies really should come with an instruction manual.

Although the experience has been lovely it’s only now that I finally feel ready and able to write a half decent blog.

After all, the last thing I wanted to do was bore you all rigid with tales of Ruby’s first giggle, first solids etc etc. That’s what mother and toddler groups were invented for.

However, it’s got to be said that when those special little events are the highlight of the week, finding other inspiration is quite difficult.

That was, however, until a close friend told me about the internet phenomena that is Facebook.

For those of you who have never heard of Facebook, it is an American business which describes itself as “a social utility that connects you with the people around you”. So far it has attracted 59 million users with two million new ones joining each week.

My initial thought about Facebook was what a waste of time? I couldn’t see the point of uploading a photograph of myself on to the internet accompanied by a few personal details so that friends can log on, look at my homepage and send me messages. Call me old fashioned but what’s wrong with the telephone, e-mail or even, God forbid, meeting up in person?

I was further astounded that people actually have the time to upload the reams and reams of photographs that they readily do. One friend had uploaded hundreds, alongside personal information about his all time favourite songs, books etc etc, the list was endless.

These people can’t have kids I thought. But again how wrong was I? Everyone is using it. Friends with children use it, as do friends who have the most demanding jobs imaginable.

So during a moment of weakness I registered and have since become a Facebook addict. I feel so ashamed saying that. I feel like such a sheep that has followed the flock.

These feelings of shame were heightened after reading an extremely interesting article by journalist Tom Hodgkinson on the politics of the people behind Facebook featured in The Guardian on Monday, January 14th.

He writes that Facebook “encourages a disturbing competitiveness around friendship: it seems that with friends today, quality counts for nothing and quantity is king. The more friends you have, the better you are.

You are “popular”, in the sense much loved in American high schools. Witness the cover line on Dennis Publishing’s new Facebook magazine: “How to Double Your Friends List.”

Despite being disturbed by much of what Mr Hodgkinson writes including valid points about identity fraud, the lure of Facebook is that it appeals to people’s nosey nature, mine included.

Personally however, I’m hoping this Facebook thing will be a fad and, like a new year’s resolution, something I’ll break or at least tire of very soon.

Let us all prayer this rain stops and that we can once again enjoy meeting up with friends outdoors rather than staring into a computer screen.

WITH July 1st fast approaching, the “due date” for reporter Julie Magee’s first baby, here she owns up to more dalliances with the world of DIY and provides an update on how she’s found pregnancy so far.

IT wasn’t so long since I wrote that I would never venture into a DIY store ever again after a disastrous exercise in fitting a new bathroom suite into the Magee family home. Well, I’m ashamed to say that vow lasted only about a week and then I was itching once again to make some kind of home improvement.

In fact, since my last blog, we’ve decorated the hall, stairs and landing, erected three pieces of flat pack furniture as well as decorated and furnished the nursery. This Bank Holiday weekend will be spent laying a new floor in the kitchen, while next month I’ve employed a team of builders to landscape the garden. Ridiculous isn’t it!

Thankfully though that outbreak of hormonal insanity that hindered my attempts at DIY last time seems to have passed and for some reason these “minor” jobs have not proved too stressful at all.

This turn around I think is partly due to the fact I’ve just become so used to being pregnant. After all 35 weeks is a long time and I think pregnant women just reach a stage when they’ve no choice but to sit back, try to relax and just go along with the ride.

In fairness, pregnancy, for myself at least, has proved to be a wonderful experience. I can obviously only speak from personal experience as I know that many people have a really rough time.

For some reason seeing a pregnant woman does bring out the best in most people. Walking through the streets of Clitheroe I have often been met with smiling faces, especially from the older generation. Most people too have been a lot more considerate and have gone out of their way to accommodate my growing bump.

Acquaintances who would normally just say “hello” from the other side of the road have crossed over and demanded a full update about my developing pregnancy.

Of course on the flip side, you do get the occasional person who makes the odd comment which I’m sure would test the patience of anyone, pregnant or not!

I’ve heard the line “you’re only pregnant, it’s not an illness you know” from a burly young man when I was struggling disposing of some rubbish down at the tip. Thank goodness my hormones weren’t working overtime that day and that I managed to bite my tongue.

People who smoke have also tested my patience, but as I used to have the odd puff on a cigarette myself, pre-pregnancy, I have tried to restrain the urge to rip those annoying little sticks out of smokers’ mouths. At least the days for people smoking in public are numbered.

I’ve also noticed that some mums feel it’s their duty to relay every horror story they’ve ever heard about pregnancy and birth. Why would they think I want to know these things with five weeks to go until I’m supposed to give birth?

The conclusion I’ve drawn from the whole experience is that the only weapon against such annoyances when pregnant is to rely on your sense of humour to help you through it all.

I’ll let you know if my sense of humour has been enough when I come back from my maternity leave in nine months’ time.