I hardly ever buy a daily paper these days, but I still have something of a weekend paper habit. And, even with my brand-new iPhone 3gs to play with, I grabbed a paper and have been devouring it on my journey from Halesworth to London.
I’m finding it hard to articulate quite why, possibly because it’s an emotional and tactile decision as much as a rational one. The weekend papers evoke the lazy, quiet Sundays of my youth, and the big pages and big pictures are somehow more engrossing than the iPhone screen.
But is this just nostalgia, a transitory state only inhabited by those of us old enough to have grown up in the pre-Internet age?
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