IT'S perfectly obvious that the world is going to hell in a handcart and it's time we took measures to protect ourselves. It is no longer good enough to keep a supply of candles and dry matches to hand, an operable torch in the drawer, and enough canned goods in the pantry to see one through a Cold War siege. Anyway, I burned the candles the last time I felt romantic, the torch batteries went while I was on the ladder's highest rung reading meters, and I'm in the habit of buying
Luckily this month's Wired magazine has a nifty feature on "Survival Gear That's Just Crazy Enough To Work". Could be quite useful, I reckoned, and proceeded to click my way through a dozen ingenious solutions to life's vicissitudes.
My eye wander
ed to the Adamant Saviour Bed for Earthquakes. I love beds and, as coincidence would have it, the one time I felt an earthquake I was in one. The quake was just a baby bump, epi-centred in Westchester County, New York, some miles from my Hoboken home, but it was a talking point just the same. Yet even though England suffered a recent shoogle, I don't think this item tops my shopping list. Nor will I be investing in Cocoon, a short-term shelter that suspends you from any stable structure, or the Hydra Collapsible Micro Wind Turbine System, designed for use in the "harsh mountains of New Zealand" to melt snow for drinking water.
I was tempted by the ACR Electronics Microfix 406 Personal Beacon, which beams satellites my whereabouts and medical information, and alerts a local rescue crew. But recalling the thickness of my hospital file, I feared I'd blast Hubble into a new galaxy. And last time I was seriously lost a quick text sufficed to reunite me with my pal, several galleries away in London's Royal Academy.
No, hazard-wise, my daily whirl here in Scotland's capital is less Bear Grylls, more "chair spills" – and, frankly, if I'd lay off the chardonnay that would sort itself out in jig time. Survival gear to suit a soft resident of the first world such as myself must be tailored to the urban, workaholic lifestyle. If any inventors are reading, here are some items I'd really be able to use:
• Dinner Party Reanimator: The artichokes are heartless, the rocket's fuse won't light, the risotto has turned to epoxy and the guests are due in 15 minutes. But have no fear! Inside this trusty pouch lurks a Master Chef-worthy three-course meal.
• Blog Speed Loader: Internet addicts know that no matter how swift your connection, waiting for those pictures of celebrity cellulite to arrive wastes valuable seconds of mockery.
• Fifties Sit-Com Mom in a Can: You're single. You've had a bad day. Very bad. You're aching for some old-fashioned TLC. Just pop the ring on FSCMiaC and, within minutes, there's a hot, nourishing meal on the table, a perfect martini at your elbow, an affectionate ruffle of your hair, and a loop of voice-activated "There, there, dear", and "You're so much prettier than she is" guaranteed to last the length of your rant.
• Idiot Filter: Into each life, some idiocy must fall on not-so-deaf ears. The career-wise know it's bad form to wear a music-delivery device to meetings, while sticking fingers in both ears and humming is just too obvious. This undetectable implant delivers a stream of soothing white noise that's inaudible to others while drowning out their drivel. For an additional fee it can be rigged to deliver an entirely harmless electrical charge at the sound of your name, ensuring that you seem as though you give a hoot.
The full article contains 636 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
