Praise be the humble kettle

Water never knew what hit it

I like to practise something I call technological mindfulness. Yes, it’s the sort of phrase to make your arsehole clench so hard you may turn inside out, but it also helps keep the wonder in life.

Effectively, technological mindfulness is a fancy-pants phrase I just made up about appreciating the things around us. Our lives are filled with so much amazing tech that it’s easy to become numb to it.

I’m not even talking about the borderline magic of modern advances — like Wi-Fi or mobile phones or those laser keychain things that shine red dots wherever you want — instead, I’m thankful for the appliances that slip into the background of life. 

So please join me while I get down on my knees in honour of the kettle.

Okay, it doesn’t look like this person is on their knees, but it’s clear they’re still worshipping some sort of Kettle God, so it’ll do.

So why now? Why this? Why?

Well, about a month ago I went freelance. Besides the constant crushing anxiety I now carry on my shoulders like a malnourished Atlas, one side effect of this career change is I’m at home all the time.

And what do you do when at home? Wank! I mean, sorry, drink copious amounts of tea while cursing god for not making me trophy husband material.

In these moments, I’ve had plenty of time to consider the elegance, the artful simplicity of a kettle: water enters cold, exits hot.

Life without one seems unnecessarily complex.

This was probably why I was so shocked when I found out that many Americans don’t have kettles in their houses.

Yes, I know there are reasons for this — like the lower voltage used in the country making them slower to boil water, as well as a more coffee-focused culture — but it’s a striking fact; one that makes me wonder if the absence of the kettle has impacted other aspects of American culture.

If only.

The kettle exemplifies how consumer technology should function: an object is invented and perfected before fierce competition forces the price for a base model low enough that most people can own one.

This approach, to me, is the antithesis of that particularly modern phenomenon of disruption — something heavily associated with Silicon Valley.

While I think we’re past the mid-2000s peak of that trend, Elon Musk’s takeover of Twitter proved that many unqualified tech bros still believe that they, by themselves, in a few weeks, can create something better than teams of experts can manage in millions of hours.

It’s even more surprising considering how hollow this disruption ethos has proven.

Social media was supposed to replace traditional news and bring us closer together. Instead, it empowered misinformation and hate groups. Streaming was supposed to improve cable, but now we need multiple subscriptions to stay up-to-date on the best shows.

And let us never forget the tech industry’s constant desire to reinvent public transport.

I’m not saying objects and services can’t be improved or huge advances can’t be made, but, sometimes, the thing that already exists is the best solution.

Take the kettle. While some modern features like being able to select a specific water temperature are amazing, they’re hardly disruptive. The basic product is so excellent that any improvement is merely iterative. 

I’m imagining this is scene from a movie where the Kettle Moon appears, and the appliances in people’s homes come to life and go a-slaughtering. It’s a mix between An American Werewolf in London and Gremlins. Studio execs, hit me up.

During those freelance moments of panic while I’m waiting for my tea to brew, I ponder a question: would the Americans filling Silicon Valley’s leadership roles be more appreciative of objects that just work if they all had a kettle at home? Would the world be a different place? Kinder? Less disruptive? More understanding?

Of course fucking not, what are you on?

There are plenty of other similar devices in people’s houses (toasters! ovens! dishwashers!) that have seen only iterative improvements in recent years — it’s not just the kettle.

Fundamentally, Silicon Valley loves disruption because it’s filled with twats who think they know better than anyone else. That’s all there is to it.

Yet, a tea-loving fella can dream.

So, today, all I ask is for you to make a hot drink, to lean close to your kettle, whisper to it, tell you how you feel, snog it a bit, waggle your tongue down the spout and flap it around like a hooked carp — and be thankful you have such a transcendent appliance in your life.