I’m Secretly Married… To Google

I recently found myself engaged in the kind of conversation that makes you look dubiously around for hidden cameras, or a time machine. The kind of conversation you could only possibly have with a crazy person – or with your mother.

Mum: I worry about you. I don’t think you have any practical skills.
Gem: Well I did just get a high 2:1 for my second year of uni so…
Mum: Yes. But can you bake a cake?
Gem: Erm…
Mum: And you can’t do needlework. Or carpentry.
Gem: Carpentry? Like… what Jesus’ dad did for a living?
Mum: …Maybe not carpentry. How about flower arranging? Nanna could teach you.
Gem: Please don’t make me do flower arranging.
Mum: You’d like it. Nanna has oasis.
Gem: Which album?
Mum: No, not Oasis: oasis.
Gem: Right…

I really love my Mum.

Anyway, I found myself rationalising to my mother about why I do not need to enrol in some sort of finishing school using one word: Google. For example, “Maybe I’ve never put up a shelf before, but you can Google that stuff, right? And ditto for sewing on a button and taking up a dress and escaping elderly relatives with an eye for floral arrangements, right?” And then the following thought crossed my mind – am I in a co-dependent relationship with Google? Am I a 1950s’ housewife, only my husband is a search engine?  Seriously? Seriously?! Oh god.   

In the last week alone I have used Google to decide what to cook for dinner, what clothes to buy, and how I should get my hair cut. I mean I am far from apathetic about my right to vote but Emmeline Pankhurst is probably rolling around in her grave about now, regardless.

So as I don’t want a long-dead suffragette putting out a hip because of my lack of practical skills I have made two (completely edible and actually sort of delicious) cakes, and listened to Be Here Now an embarrassing number of times. And yes, I am admittedly living in fear that my mother will try to make me construct a building which my 89 year old Nanna will then chase me around, armed with some mysterious substance called ‘oasis’ and a pair of secateurs. But I can make fat-free cake. So not only am I one step closer to independence, but I now have a good method of bribing people into helping me put up a shelf.

I was about to file my metaphorical divorce papers against my search engine husband when Google made the mother of all grand gestures. I give you, ‘Cute Pandas Playing On The Slide’. Independence schmindependence.

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2 responses to “I’m Secretly Married… To Google

  1. If each of your blog posts continues to be better than the last, we either need to spend some time making up a few more adjectives, or go for the simple, numerical option and adopt my proposed “Scale of Likedness”.

  2. As your Tata, I’m A) So glad you love your Mum! B) Laughed out loud at the idea of you with Oasis and C) Very proud of your blog. Even if it did make me laugh and hurt all my stitches! x x x

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