Who’s the talk of the town?

I'm increasingly famous... and it's no fun. While Chris Martin asks for privacy as he 'consciously uncouples', while George Michael does his best to dodge the paparazzi, I've discovered my own challenges. But this fame hasn't come from my music. No, it's come from deep within the virtual world of the internet. Let me explain.

There are two so-called social internet services I'm fairly keen on. One is Twitter, where I'll occasionally share a 140-character slice of my action-packed life with whosoever is reading. (Recent example: "I've been photographing eco-friendly cat litter scoops".) The other is Foursquare, which lets users 'check in' on their mobile phones and tell others where they are. From cafés to chemists, you can report where you are and add a photo or a few comments. "Why would you do that?", I hear someone ask. Hang on a moment, mother, I'm about to tell you.

There are, as far as I'm concerned, three reasons for using Foursquare. There's a good old-fashioned sense of self-importance. I'm still working on that one. There's the idea that you may be helping other people make decisions. Joining the cub scouts strengthened that feeling many years ago. And then there's the competitive element. You see, Foursquare has 'gamified' the process of checking in. If you check-in to a particular venue more than everyone else, you'll automatically be appointed 'mayor'. There's no chain of office, no extra responsibility and no recognition in the place itself, just the motivation of climbing to the top of the list. While anyone can add their house to Foursquare and become a legend in their own larder, it's easy to catch the bug and begin checking in wherever you go.

Which brings me to my fame. The Foursquare bug bit me a few years ago. Thanks to frequent visits and regular online check-ins, I'm currently the mayor of the corner shop in the village. At the moment my mobile phone tells me I'm also mayor of Lewes Tesco, mayor of Waitrose and mayor of an assortment of coffee shops across Sussex. In fact, I'm mayor of so many places that the novelty is wearing off. The game isn't fun any more. What can I do?

Well, I reckon I need to borrow a solution from real-world renown. It's time to take a break from checking in as much. Let my unelected rule lapse. Hide my phone and become an internet recluse for a while. And then, if I'm still interested, I can try to win back my crown. Yes, I’m going to stage a come-back tour.

First published on Viva Lewes 28th March 2014: www.vivalewes.com

The man with the golden croissant

I like living in Ringmer. As I've mentioned before, I reckon it's close enough to Lewes for me to enjoy the benefits of the town without subjecting me to any of its disadvantages.

However, there's one notable flaw in this plan. It's the croissant situation. Don't worry, we're not completely bereft of pastries here. Croissants are available in Ringmer... but only when the weekend arrives. It's as though a local bylaw prohibits their sale at the bakery except on a Saturday. Asking for one during the week prompts the kind of response usually reserved for someone ordering roasted ortolan in a vegetarian brasserie.

Therefore, if I ever want a mid-week cappuccino and a croissant, I need to travel beyond the parish boundary. Although I'll occasionally walk into Lewes when the weather is good, I'm most likely to rely on the 28 bus - or its lesser-known relative, the 143 - for a trip into town. To catch the bus, I simply leave home five minutes before it's due to turn up. At least, that's what I did when I originally moved to the village. These days I allow just two minutes. Some would say I'm getting lazy. I blame James Bond.

You see, I saw the latest Bond film when it was released in cinemas about 18 months ago. 'Skyfall' looked back at the fifty-year history of the 007 franchise while also preparing the audience for an equally lengthy future. And it did all this after making us sit through the longest set of on-screen advertisements since Pearl first met Dean. But commercial considerations aside, I was suitably entertained. Daniel Craig makes a compelling secret agent. He runs, fights and generally behaves exactly as an action-hero should... all while wearing a suit.

Which brings me back to the issue of catching the bus. Once, running for the bus would have made me look like a bit of a loser. I’d be a middle-aged bloke whose life was in disarray. Now, thanks to the work of Mr Craig, I'm the coolest man around. Even with a laptop under my arm and the power cable trailing behind me, I could be mistaken for an employee of MI6 rather than a chap whose watch is slow. Unfortunately I've not done the fitness training required by Her Majesty's Secret Service. Despite doing my best to maintain a stoic appearance, I'm a little shaken by the time I arrive at the bus stop. Similar to 007's vodka martini, you might say.

First published on Viva Lewes 13th March 2014: www.vivalewes.com