Hard news

I can't remember when I stopped buying a newspaper. I do remember that between 2002 and 2004, when I worked on Upper Thames Street, I'd arrive into Waterloo just after seven, walk to the Starbucks in The Globe, grab a coffee and a muffin, cross over a bridge - Millennium or Southwark - and be in the office before eight. Then I'd check what had happened overnight and, if everything was OK, I'd read the Guardian online while I drank my coffee and ate my muffin. So I think I'd stopped buying a paper by then.

Today I was in Booths and, because I am a card holder, I was offered a free coffee or newspaper when I paid for my shopping. It's not uncommon for me to take a coffee but, on a whim, I went for the newspaper, which I haven't done before. I wasn't even sure how it worked - the papers aren't by the tills - but Dan simply went off to grab one. (And then got distracted by Kerrang!)

It's a different experience reading the paper, spread out on the table in front of you. For a start, apart from a few spoilers on the front page, you don't really know what's inside, so you scan each new page and, even if there's nothing you'd normally be interested in, you'll still find the least boring looking story and read that, rather than leave the page entirely unread before moving on. And then there's the joy of turning the page and finding a story you really do want to read. It's like a series of small, unpredictable presents being delivered to you.

It worries me that the way I read the paper online means that I miss out on stories that I would read in the print edition. Reading the paper on the web, I skim down the front page, right clicking on anything that interests me, and opening it in a new tab. Then, when I'm done skimming, I work my way through the tabs. This way, I only read articles that interest me in some way.

And this made me think about bookshops. When I buy books off Amazon - a habit I'm still determined to kick - I search for books I've been told about or read about or seen referenced somewhere. I might see a few other books - other books by this author, people who liked this liked blah - but I don't stray far. In a bookshop however, I'll nearly always walk out with one or two books that I knew nothing about when I walked in. And this saddens me, too.

While the web puts huge amounts of knowledge at our fingertips, it's also managing to narrow my vision, to restrict my reading. But the answer to that conundrum - more newspapers, more bookshops - doesn't sound too painful. At least while they last.