..a robot to replace me:


That can pick up a sick child up from school and care for her.

That can effectively support the Boywonder in his final year at school including researching university options and helping him find guests for Politics Society.

That can combine chauffeuring to and from school; bands; ballet with efficient route planning – taking into account all current temporary traffic light and rush hour traffic delays – and afford sufficient driving practice to the Boywonder.

That can reply efficiently to email missives from school rather than letting them languish in an inbox.

That can write endless cheques and pay endless child-related bills.

That can shop and cook healthy, delicious and nutritious meals, that everyone actually likes, from scratch and have them ready, served up piping hot and appetising for 10 minute yoga or band turnarounds on weekday evenings.

That can attend countless concerts and parents’ evenings.

That can accompany children or mother to appointments at with doctors, hearing aid practitioners, opticians and also take charge of collecting and dispensing any necessary medications.

That can wait on hold to my mother’s GP practice for 20 minutes each time.

That can manage properly and responsibly my mother’s financial affairs.

That can do all of the family’s laundry including more than 6 hours of ironing every week.

That can maintain a spotless, immaculately-decorated, non-tumbledown house.

That can volunteer regularly for the music school tuck shop or reception desk duty.

That can make appointments with and wait in for the heating engineer or the burglar alarm man without letting them lapse for months on end.

That can efficiently maintain and service three cars and several musical instruments.

That can oversee homework and music practice and track down and order all music scores for exams etc.

That can supply patience and compassion for my Alzheimer’s-blighted, difficult mother and listen to her endless circular conversations for hours, and collect her when necessary from sit-ins at pharmacies or GP practices.

That can listen.


In the meantime, I’ll take the dog on glorious walks; go to the gym every day and be fitter, slimmer and sexier; sing like the Diva I am (I could even practise my sightsinging every day); knit jumpers and socks and gloves and hats and flowers; write a quiz;  crochet a granny blanket; Tweet (a lot); bake cakes and have lunch with friends and family. I could work on my blockbuster first novel. I might even have an evening out once in a while. Or perhaps a holiday. Or a nap. Perhaps I could hold down a challenging career. That would help everyone, no?