Woke up the other day – and my Kindle had gone berserk. The screen image was broken up and looked as if someone were trying to communicate from the other side. Cue creepy music. But, the gods were smiling, because it was still in warranty – just. By noon the next day, a brand new one arrived! And there was me all set to boycott Amazon over the tax thing.
Meanwhile, I’d been reduced to reading a real book – left to my old devices, as it were. I found a delightful Gladys Mitchell murder mystery, with a macabre cover and luscious parchment-thick pages. But, blow me down if it wasn’t set in Glasgow! (I’m being haunted by the place.) But the really odd thing is, I’ve become so accustomed to having a single page on display at a time that I find myself distracted by the right-hand page, and I have to stop myself from trying to sneak a quick look before I’ve finished the left. Most peculiar.