I’ve had my new iMac for several months now—and for several months now, my old iMac has been sitting right behind it on the desk, waiting for me to do something with it.

I haven’t done anything with it to this point partially because I haven’t quite known what to do with it and partially because I am notoriously reluctant to part with things—any things, all things. But now I am parting with it, and while it will be a relief to get it off of my desk, I feel a twinge of sadness as well.

I think it’s only natural that I should feel a particular attachment my old iMac. First of all, just look at it: it’s an icon, an utterly brilliant piece of design. It’s practical, it’s beautiful and it’s got bucketloads of character. I love the spaceship dome of the base and the smooth swivel of the monitor. It’s a cheeky little thing. There was never anything quite like it before, and there hasn’t been anything like it since.

More significantly, I sat in front of the thing nearly every day for over 5 years. I became a fully fledged translator on it. I wrote my master’s dissertation on it. I cursed it when it went slowly, and I really really cursed it when it up and died (temporarily) last year. But mostly I loved it, and it was a pleasure to sit down and work (and play) on it every day.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore my new iMac. It, too, is a fabulous piece of design work. It’s sleek and slender, stylish and modern. It’s wonderful having such a big, bright screen to work on and having so much speed and space in such a compact package. There’s no doubt about it: it’s one helluva sexy machine.

But there will always be a special place in my heart for the old fella, my friendly little Anglepoise companion. Well, at least he’s going to a good home—that makes me happy, and it makes the parting somewhat easier to bear.

Farewell, brave little iMac. You served me well.