QUESTION TIME

Molly Gunn, Editor - 22 Mar 22

When I was a child, my family used to play Trivial Pursuit. It was a new game in the 80s, and – along with Ferrero Rocher and Sara Lee Gateau – it felt sophisticated to my 9 or 10 year old self. I didn’t mind that I couldn’t answer the questions like my parents or my elder sister, I’d happily just be in charge of wedges.

As I’ve grown up, I’ve realised my brain just doesn’t hold general knowledge. I’m a great doer, and creative,  but absolutely rubbish at facts. Ironic then, that my life these days, feels like a game of Trivial Pursuit. Or, an episode of Mastermind, or Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Except there’s no wedges to distract, or prize-money to win. It’s just questions, endless questions…all day long.

I guess it’s great my 3 kids are inquisitive. But I wonder why they expect me to know the answers? Generally, I don’t! And the questions come quickfire, at random moments like when you’re on the phone to HMRC, or someone knocks on the door, or running through a rainstorm, or picking up a dog poo.

The other day, I was asked all these questions within a few hours of each other. (I wrote them all down so I could remember the bonkerness of it)….

“Are hydronic powered robots quieter than robots with motors?”
“I wonder why we cry when we’re sad?”
“What sea in the world is the warmest?”
“Who do you think was the best Batman?”
“Can I watch Youtube before school?”
“Are Mexicans allowed in New Mexico?”
“What year did the first Harry Potter come out?”
And – the classic! “Is 8 to the power of 4: 40104?”

And these aren’t singular questions that there’s time to digest and ruminate on like a fine wine. They are instead quick fire, asked one after the other by different children, in a round robin, often repeated until an answer is given. And always, always, while I’m focused on something else that is already stretching my mind; such as yesterday, being quizzed on all the different Spidermen while reversing a hire car into an impossibly tight parking space in a foreign country.

In the manner of good quiz shows, the kids each all have a different speciality: Rafferty is Science, Engineering and Maths (special interest Robots or Sums), Fox is Films and Popular Culture (special interest Marvel), while Liberty’s questions are more on a wanting theme, (sweets, magazines etc), and hers would be the easiest to answer if the question wasn’t repeated 50 times and resulted in wailing if the answer was deemed wrong. I’m endlessly thinking on my feet. “The Indian Ocean? Micheal Keaton. Yes! No! If they have a Visa? 2001 I think! Er, Ask Grandpa.”

This natural curiosity is to be commended, but I do find it…. exhausting. As not only is it an endless stream on top of other life demands, but it highlights how little I actually know. Before kids I was living in ignorant bliss of my General Knowledge shortcomings, but now the truth is out there for me and my kids to witness on a daily basis. And this feels mildly… dare I say… depressing?

“I’m good at other things!” I often tell my inquisitive eldest, followed by… “why don’t you write it down, and ask… someone else?” I rarely say Ask Google, as I still have a retro belief in the human brain, and I don’t want another reason for them to jump on a screen… (God bless IMDB though, in fact my ‘what year did X film come out’ are probably the questions I’m best at).

The offshoot being that when I meet up with friends I often want to gaze into the distance while I listen to them talk, but shrink inside when they quick-fire questions at me, even ‘So, how are you?’ Can feel too intrusive when I’ve already lived out an episode of Mastermind that day.  No more questions please, I think, write it down and ask someone else!

Molly Gunn, Editor

Molly Gunn is the founder and editor of Selfish Mother, a site she created for like-minded women in 2013. Molly has been a journalist for over 15 years, starting out working on fashion desks at The Guardian, The Telegraph & ES Magazine before going freelance in 2006 to write for quality publications. She now edits Selfish Mother, sells #GoodTees to raise funds for charity, & writes freelance for Red Magazine and The Sunday Telegraph's Stella. Molly is mother to Rafferty, 6, Fox, 4, and baby Liberty. She is married to Tom aka music producer Tee Mango and founder of Millionhands. They live in Bruton, Somerset.

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