I was cosy and comfy in the caravan. There were bursts of sunshine and wandering on beaches. We were still in the honeymoon phase of Girl1’s return from foreign parts.
We’d had the world cup chocolate boot presentation.
We’d been in a favourite shop and seen a real loom. No tiny elastic bands required.
I had plenty of reading material, and was engrossed in a novel. All was well with the world.
The next morning I refilled the breakfast coffee mug and lifted my trusty Kindle, another day of lazy contentment planned. I flicked the switch, keen to get on with the story.
The screen was filled with half images and shadows of words (not a good sign), and didn’t change (a worse sign). I’d been here before, many moons ago, when my Kindle was still an infant. Amazon replaced it immediately. But now, the Kindle is elderly, obsolete. Dead. They don’t make that model any more.
We have no internet access in Donegal which meant that I couldn’t set about finding a replacement until we came home. Also, I couldn’t simply continue reading the novel on my phone, because it wasn’t already downloaded to that device.
I started to read Spurs Fan’s football book, but it wasn’t the same. Less violence, for a start.
Once home, I began to investigate. I was briefly tempted by ‘Fire’, ‘HD’, ‘HDX’ and other random collections of letters before deciding I wasn’t going to pay good money for a flash tablet when I had a voucher that would practically cover the cost of a basic e reader. Doesn’t my phone do all the fancy stuff? (I have no idea what my phone can do.) After that I pottered choosing a cover and spent a huge amount of time trying to organise super speedy delivery.
The colourful cover is here. The Kindle is not. I feel like I’m waiting for a baby to be born. “Is it here yet?” “Oh, it’s on it’s way!” “Still not here.” I’m pining for a bit of electronic equipment I’ve never met.
I got the story finished. Jo Nesbo’s The Son. A bit long, a bit daft, but I enjoyed it. The reviewers didn’t. Lazy, they said. Turgid, they said. Perhaps my judgement was addled by the Kindle added suspense.
Or maybe I just enjoy some fun rubbish fiction*?
*other examples of this genre include anything by Lee Child or Janet Evanovich.