Craic On

As if it’s not enough to be shouted at by people, who in the face of some obvious revelation feel the need to defend themselves by yelling, I now find myself being challenged by machines that speak. A few years ago I invested in a speaking alarm clock. It’s a small plastic box that takes an age to set. Once done, it remains silent just long enough for sleep to begin to wrap its folds around me before bursting into life and shouting the date, day of the week, time, but not the time for which I have set my alarm. I cannot help but let doubt get the better of me, roll over and reset it just in case I have made a mistake and left the gas on. Then I go through the entire routine of beating the pillow into submission before the clock starts shouting at me again. Two years ago the Sister bought me Alexa for Christmas. It, (I cannot bring myself to gender it and describe it as ‘she”) has been squatting on top of my kitchen radio gathering dust ever since. A friend of mine, put her mind to making Alexa work for