Or so says my son. IT arrived today. The universe was looking out for me today and delivered my iPad after I'd showered and dressed and before I had to leave to pick up the kids from school.
It was solidly boxed and perfectly presented. I took it out, worked out how to use it and off I went. And then the kids got hold of it and I didn't see it for a while.
It's smooth, it's shiny and it's the latest thing and despite who gave it to me, I love it. The screen is gorgeous, the cameras are mediocre but loads of fun, youtube works, it collects mail, you can write stuff on it and there are ebooks to read - classics and other things that I've never read, which will now fill my days.
It's got games too, loads of time wasting games, translators, cookbooks, yoga apps and other apps I never thought I'd need. The cover that arrived two weeks back fits like a glove and switches it on and off whenever you open/close it.
And I can't give it back, when I leave, for one reason and only one reason - on the back, in a small neat font, is my name. The name I was born with, not my stupid married name. The name I'm going to keep forever and never change again.
So it's mine forever.
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