Last Christmas, Mrs. Doc gave me a smartwatch . As soon as I put it on, I started to notice all the other people with identical smartwatches and realised what we had in common: that our nearest and dearest had, at some point recently, been really stumped for what to buy us as a present.
I like it, though. I like getting notifications that save me feeling I ought to check my phone, I like being able to check the weather forecast constantly. And I both like and despise the activity tracking that is really the watch’s main selling point.
When I set the watch up, there were various optional targets for physical activity. I set all of these to the maximum suggested, while simultaneously muttering to myself that this watch was never going to know what had hit it.
The first activity goal is to do an hour of exercise a day. I’m continually confused by my watch claiming I’ve done five minutes exercise by 8 am, when I think my sum total for the day has been to drink tea and bitch about the government. (On one occasion while I was bitching about the government, the watch chimed in with, “Would you like me to play some relaxing music?” and came very close to an encounter with the reset-mallet.)
On the other hand, it’s very prone to asking, in an infuriatingly passive-aggressive tone, if I’m by any chance out for a bike ride, when what I’ve been doing for the previous […]