My Old Mate
Want to know something weird? Well, you are here, so I am going to assume that you do. Even if you don’t then you may as well stick around, right? Seeing as I am about to begin a story and let’s be honest: you’re not going to find anything even half as remotely interesting over at the BBC News and Loose Women, seeing as that’s for girls and you might be a bloke, mightn’t you? No need to put your hand up by the way. This small but half decently formed (I like to think, anyway) story is about my old cheap secondhand laptop.
Yes: I have a new laptop which does all the fancy business that these modern machines do – most of which I in no way understand and can’t be bothered with: long as it writes characters on a screen then that’s good enough for me – but it’s nowhere near as much fun as using my secondhand one that switches off for no reason (the fan: broken) and turns on randomly (don’t ask me…because it’s been turned off and on a million times between 1998 and the present day?).
Why do I love it so? Easy: it’s become sort of custom made to me and my personality and all my quirks. Like a river running through a canyon and gouging out a path, over the years my fingers have worn down the keys so they are smooth like the smoothest shiny pebbles you might find anywhere in the sea. And that just feels a lot better than my new laptop, where all the keys have this annoying grip to them that doesn’t lend itself to writing, you know?
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