I strayed outside a long-term relationship last weekend. Maybe it was the hypocrisy, the constant, insincere harangues, or the show-boating, but I'm just fed up with the Independent.
To tell the truth, the Indy had been grating on me for months, but it's hard to change once you've got a nice rut going. I can only see so many full-colour front-page spreads on emissions caps and the evils of long-haul airlines accompanied by entire sections devoted to high-performance cars and exotic destination tourism before I start to question the integrity of my morning paper, though. The Independent prides itself on its anti-establishment credentials, but after a few months of daily reading, it becomes obvious that there's very little in the way of deeply held principles, and a great deal of knee-jerk pandering to columnists' particular audiences.
Like any other relationship that's come to an end, it's taking a while to completely flush from my life. I've only read the new paper for a couple of days now, and I keep thinking that I should look in on the old thing, just to make sure it's OK, you understand. It's not that I still have feelings for it...I just want the answers to last week's crossword that I couldn't finish. I keep finding bits of the Independent in my flat too...weekend magazine issues in my living room, and folded over crossword sections under my bed.
Maybe we could get together and reminisce about the good times once I've settled in with my new paper, but things are just too raw right now. Besides, the Times and I are just getting to know each other. We'll see each other on the train this week, and maybe we'll get together and watch the Metropolis DVD that it gave me on Saturday. Hopefully things will work out.