1n 1999, just 4 months before the shiny bright new aluminium, as those of us who liked to play with words were calling it, I sat with my mum, having a coffee outside Costa (very continental) by the bridge at Chelmsford. These were days before computers had properly invaded our lives but we were all worried that the Y2K coding error would crash the world.
‘People worry too much,’ mum said, lighting up a second cigarette. ‘They always do.’
‘But if they’ve not planned for a two-zero at the beginning of the date everything could go off line.’ I said, twiddling my hair around my finger.
She humphed and changed the subject.
‘Sometimes it feels as though the universe is listening to you. Do you know what I mean?’
I didn’t but she went on to explain how you could be indecisive about something and all of a sudden the answer would be everywhere.
‘You think the world is trying to tell you something?’ I laughed.
For a non-religious, feet-on-the-ground, no-nonsense person my mum was remarkably superstitious.
I have been thinking about that conversation a lot recently, especially as whenever I turn on the telly or walk into a room where it is on, a disembodied voice says, ‘Always keep away from children.’ I know it’s a washing powder advert but maybe the universe is sending a message or death isn’t as final as I thought a mum is having a laugh with me.
Our conversation had continued, talking about computers and how they’d never be able to keep up because the world changes all the time.
‘How would it know something had gone out of fashion?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know, maybe if less people are searching for it?’
‘I mean,’ she continued, ‘You never see men with gardening tools strapped to the crossbar of their bike anymore, do you?’
I agreed but wasn’t sure I ever had.
‘They used to be everywhere. Old men, cycling to the allotment or off to do some odd jobs.’
There was nothing more to say.
‘Shall we go?’ I said, turning round to pick up my shopping. My breath caught in my throat, ‘Mum, look!’
She turned.
‘See, the world is listening!’
The breeze ruffled her hair as the man cycled past, hoe attached to the crossbar, watering can dangling from each handlebar.
I wonder what she would have made of tech actually listening to you? Would I have popped round to find her shouting, ‘Oi Alexa, play Etta James.’ or would she have been as reluctant as I am.
I do not trust that Alexa. For one she can never seem to hear me, even when I haven’t lost my voice. She’s always much more keen to do something once it has been repeated by a man.
Over Christmas we went to two different houses where Alexa already had her feet under the table. On Boxing Day the pressure to take it in turns to shout at Alexa to choose the next ‘banging tune’ brought me out in a cold sweat. And on Christmas Eve she ignored the woman of the house, who wanted the lights on until a man said it. The Long Suffering Husband thought he’d have a chat with her and a laugh.
‘Alexa! Play AC/DC Highway to Hell!’
It wasn’t a highway to hell kind of evening until that point but Alexa was up for the challenge.
‘Playing Highway to Hell through Amazon music. You have been signed up for free trial then you will be charged 10.99 a month.’
Shock filled the room. The LSH laughed awkwardly. The woman of the house shouted at Alexa to stop. AC/DC filled the room. The man told her to stop and the music ceased. The man frantically tapped at his phone.’
‘I can’t do it from here. I’ll need to log onto the computer.’
Alexa was threatening to spoil the party. The LSH had broken out into a sweat. It was decided that people could worry about it at another time.
It must be hell going to parties if you are called Alexa.
A few days ago the LSH had a message to say that he could breathe easy. No one knew what Alexa had been playing at and there was no subscription to Amazon music.
It’s enough for me that the other appliances are listening.
I grew up in a house where the radio was on all the time. Background music or chat from the Archers and habits are hard to break. The dog likes Classic FM and we leave it on for him over night. Radio 3 started playing experimental birdsong at 3 am a year ago and so he went back to the tunes everyone knows.
The other morning the LSH was going through the shopping list just as Maggie from Solihull was making a request for her cat. The LSH said that he had already bought marmalade a second before Maggie told us the name of her cat - Marmalade.
‘That’s weird,’ we said together.
However, not as weird as the thing that has just happened. I suppose I should have expected it at some time because my washing machine does finish by playing a short excerpt of a famous piece of classical music. However, Schubert Lieders are definitely out of fashion and no one expects to hear a perfect duet of the trout on radio and washing machine. In fact, the likelihood of that happening is so remote I probably should buy a lottery ticket.
While I’m gone I’ll leave you with this little rumour. Apparently, Samsung chose this tune for their end cycle sound because they test their machines by putting a trout through a normal cycle and if it comes out damaged then it doesn’t pass quality control.
