Soma with a spinning disk.

I remember my first iPod, one of the second generation models, I think. I still have it on the bookshelf just behind me. And the later model which replaced it. Jane gifted me the first one for my birthday shortly after we'd arrived in Canberra. I remember it being a technological godsend because I was doing a ton of childminding at that point and the ability to have a bit of music going as we put yet another hour into the swing set at the local park probably stopped me from going mad.

It undoubtedly stopped me from being completely in the moment too.

This thought has been bubbling along at the back of my mind over the last week as I kept coming across valedictory pieces about Apple finally shutting down the iPod Touch production line.

The pod wasn't the product that saved 1990s near-death Apple; that was those jellybean looking iMacs. But the iPod, which gave birth to the iPhone, was the reason Apple eventually became the world's largest company instead of just an also-ran computer shop.

I loved my little Pod, but looking back now I can see the reason I loved it was that it let me check out of the world when I didn't want to be there anymore. I wonder if it was a harbinger in that way, a small omen on the way to where we are now, all of us living in our bubbles and silos, more often than not trying to shut out reality rather than deal with it.