For those of us who find some delight and diversion in the curious world of social media, the impulse to share has become pretty strong. Our thoughts, our observations, the sights and sounds we experience – they're all subconsciously assessed for their worth, and if they make the grade we blast them out there. But, perhaps inevitably, our critical faculties begin to lose their edge and we start posting any old rubbish on a whim. This week, I absent-mindedly shared a photograph on Twitter that contained my address just in shot; I quickly deleted it.

Ever since childhood I've been terrified of the consequences of disobedience and prone to sickeningly obsequious behaviour around figures of authority, eg anyone with a uniform, a double-barrelled name or a horsewhip. As a boy I'd say things like, "I don't think we should be doing this" or "what if someone sees us?" while my friends gleefully urinated up the side of Dunstable Leisure Centre and then wrote ULTRAVOX on it in chalk.

People actually attending sports events are usually privy to the least in-play information – that's all about to change, says Rhodri Marsden.

We've all been caught unawares in the digital crosshair. It's one of the unfortunate side effects of leaving the house these days; as more people become faintly obsessed with documenting what's going on around them, we stand a good chance of achieving social media immortality against our will. Every week I receive notifications that I appear in some photo on Facebook – and every week I'll untag myself, unless I'm looking particularly handsome, which is rare and getting rarer.

I've always had a tough time explaining why I love watching shopping channels. Few people I've met share my affection for QVC et al, and my passion is inevitably pooh-poohed – particularly when I mention that I never buy anything. "So, why watch it?" they ask. I never know what to say. It just makes me feel "nice".

It's something we should all learn, says Rhodri Marsden.