I never thought I’d say it but it’s true: since I subscribed to the Sunday Times iPad edition six weeks ago, I haven’t bought any other Sunday paper. What’s more, the iPad edition seems to make me feel HAPPY!
Ok. So, what’s so great about the Sunday Times iPad app, I hear you ask?
 Sunday Times iPad edition First, it works. It’s intuitive, it’s readable, it’s easy to navigate (the sections match the sections in the print edition), and the reading experience is immersive in much the same way that print can be immersive but online rarely is.
Second, I download only the sections that I want to read – News, Culture, Style, TV Listings, Business, and the Sunday Times magazine. This is exactly what I used to do with the print edition when the sections I’m not interested in would go in the bin straight away. Reading on the iPad is definitely better for the environment.
Third, the interactive features engage me. If I like an article, I can respond by ‘Recommending’ it. If I want to contact the author, I can do so from within the app itself.
Fourth, the paper looks better on the iPad. Photos are backlit and simply stunning – way, way more effective than in print. Touching fashion and accessories in Style magazine opens up additional information and features making for a more enjoyable and immersive reading experience.
Unlike the print edition, the Sunday Times iPad version fits in my handbag. That means I can download the sections via wifi at home and read them while commuting during the week. So I’m reading more and enjoying what I read more than I used to in the print edition.
If you are a Sunday Times reader with an iPad and haven’t yet downloaded the app, I strongly recommend it. Let’s hope some of the other titles follow suit. I’d like to read all my papers and magazines this way. But not my books ;)
The village newsagent
Twenty years ago this was a sleepy village. Shops closed at 5.30 and took a half day on Wednesdays. There was a hotel, a coffee shop with homemade cakes, a bank, a pub, and the village newsagent – an elderly gentleman who stocked the local and national papers as well as more exotic titles like the Times of London, the Wall Street Journal and El Pais. A few years ago, the newsagent retired. I hope he made a pretty penny from the shop – I still see him sometimes taking the sea air at a leisurely pace. It took some time to get over the loss of the shop. I switched allegiance once or twice, reluctant to buy newspapers from the supermarket because a dedicated newsagent lends colour to the community and I am a strong believer in supporting independent outlets.
Hello iPad, Bye Bye Newsagent
But the iPad presents a dilemma since the wonders of the international press are now just a swipe away. So, today, I succumbed to temptation and an online subscription to timesonline.co.uk. I love the interactive features, the quality of the photos, the ease of reading and, significantly, not having to throw out heaps of newsprint at the end of the day. But the pleasure is tinged with sadness. Digital may or may not spell the end of print but it does make it less likely that independent newsagents will survive. I like to think the man who retired anticipated the trend and has done well from it but I still miss buying a mountain of papers from him on a Sunday morning.
 © Dmytro Hurnytskiy | Dreamstime.com In my twenties I lived in the city and, like most twenty-somethings, was rarely to be found at home on a Saturday night. Coming back from the pub in those days, we would buy the Sunday papers and a bag of chips, and settle down to read them in the wee small hours. Back then, I would not have said it was the highlight of the week – it was just a part of the routine – and yet, all these years later, it’s the thing that has stayed with me most vividly from that part of my life – the Observer for its books section, the Tribune for news, and a selection of others for comparison and entertainment. In those days we joked about how middle-aged it was to sit around passing sections backwards and forwards, occasionally reading aloud, never dreaming but that middleage would come while never quite believing that we would really age.
Scarcely a weekend goes by that I don’t remember those happy Saturday nights. In this part of the world, you have to wait until Sunday morning for your papers and these days I don’t have the luxury of sharing them so companionably. Don’t get me wrong, weekends now bring their own pleasures – breakfasts out, candles on Saturday night, walks, cooking, ‘me’ time, stillness, talk radio, and the Sunday papers on Sunday - but I think, till the day I die, I will miss those Saturday nights.
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