It had been a while since I had ambled in to my local shop before catching the bus, but I needed to break a £10 note for bus fare and my main aim was to not spend part of it on a chocolate bar or a bottle of water. In the back of my head I was wondering, “Hmmm, maybe there’s a small chance that they’ll have a copy of The Independent’s i and if they do I’ll buy one.”
I managed to snag the last copy in the shop. Or maybe it had been the only copy to begin with? All I know is that I spent a slightly inordinate amount of time waiting to be served and almost missed my bus, because the woman served before me was asking for just about every form of service the shop provides, all in the course of several transactions.
But hey, once I was on the bus, I sat down and opened up my copy of Wednesday’s i and found it to be, well, kind of what I’ve wanted newspapers to be for a rather long time. Or rather, those of tabloid dimensions.
It’s not truly fantastic, but that’s because I’m instantly biased against any inclusion of a sports section, but it was short enough that I actually got the chance to read all the stuff I’m normally interested in. Reading an entire national paper is a feat that I rarely achieve. I’ll probably end up buying it again if I can.
In other news, that photo at the beginning is me holding that same copy of i and me wearing one of the t-shirts I bought this week (which arrived yesterday while I was out).