The 371-day iPod

My iPod died today.

It started to do odd things yesterday (it was really struggling to find songs) and today I decided to wipe the drive and start again. It wouldn't play ball and the resulting HD probs were playing havoc with my mac - I saw way too many beachballs this morning. So in the end I gave it up for dying, if not dead. Imagine how I felt about that. I was distraught. No: screw distraught - I was bereft.

So - I did some mental 'rith and reasoned that it was probably about two weeks out of guarantee. Never mind, thought I. There's probably something I've missed. And anyway - I could probably fit a new HD with one of those kits I believe you can buy. But it wouldn't do any harm to take it to one of those Apple Geniuses I hear so much about - and as the 2nd Apple Store in Europe is but a train ride away (and a bit), I may as well. If you want a death certificate, you can't write it yourself, can you?

So I did. With iPod in hand (note beginning of sentence avoiding a lower case letter) I made my way to Manchester.

Took it to a guy in the Trafford Centre Apple Store called Julien. Francophone, but I wouldn't insult him by assuming his nationality. He tested it and... he shrugged. Like Francophones do. Then he went to have a word with his manager. It turned out it was 6 days out of warranty - and he replaced it anyway. I couldn't say much. I wanted to do cartwheels all over the shop, but I thought it might look smug. So I just sat at the genius bar, all smitten with my genius. Wow.

What a guy, what a company. I've just fallen in love with Apple all over again.