Welcome to My Genetic Heritage

[thessalian]

I love my mother, really. But sometimes she really is a bit of a ditz.

Mum: Let's meet up this weekend! I want to see your new flat! So should we meet up in the centre, or closer to here.
Me: Hrm. My area's kind of sparse, but Brixton's close-ish. Let me think on it and email you back?
Mum: Okey-doke. I'll expect your email.

Next Day:
Me: *emails with date and time*

Today:
Mum: Don't forget to tell me date and time!
Me: I emailed yesterday; guess it never went through. *gives date and time again*
Mum: Oh, I wasn't checking my email. Brixton - is there a station? Where is this?
Me: ...... *facepalms and resists urge to say 'read my email or JFGI'* Yes; southernmost stop on the Victoria Line.
Mum: Okey-doke. See you soon.

She's lived in London at least as long as I have. "Is there a station?" - yeesh. Mum, love ya, but this it what becomes of people who think that a ten-year-old encyclopaedia trumps the mighty Google when it comes to info-gathering.

Well, at least I get to take her to The Rest Is Noise now...