Today, my third generation Keyboard Kindle (yes, one of the original ones that you hardly ever see any more) finally gave up the ghost. The unit itself is absolutely fine, but the battery has finally crystallised and will never take – much less hold – a charge again. Dom has taken it apart, but the possibility of a new battery doesn’t look terribly hopeful from where I’m sitting.
This Kindle has seen me through some tough times and so it has sentimental value. Yes, I get attached to inanimate objects, why do you ask? It’s made disabled travelling possible for me (try wrangling a suitcase that won’t close properly because of the books, a book and your handbag under your arm and a walking stick all at once: it cannot be done); it’s lightened up many a car journey; it’s helped me to dream the time away in hospital or GP waiting rooms, been to numerous book club meetings with me and even kept me sane on ICU in 2014:
As bulky as this old thing was, I’m really quite upset. I wanted a Paperwhite anyway, but I wanted a second Kindle rather than have to upgrade because my faithful friend for more than half a decade turned up its digital toes.
Farewell old buddy. Thank you for everything: you will be remembered fondly.