Have yourself a multicoloured Christmas

(if that’s not a racist thing to say)

Why do only small children and middle aged men wear Christmas jumpers?

Grandma’s favourite Alan Hansen got into trouble for talking about “coloured” football players this week. Rohan Ricketts (a Shamrock Rovers player ) jumped onto twitter to correct him – “we’re BLACK!” and yet again, race is an issue. 

Is this reaction extreme? I think I too would be a little oversensitive if I had to put up with the amount of hassle the average black person gets on a day to day basis. Many white people don’t realise how much racism is still horribly prevalent in society today because we happily and obliviously allow it to float over our heads. Anyone remember that documentary about traffic wardens only a few years ago? People who appeared at first glance to be quite normal (ie, not knuckle-dragging chavs) would react to getting a ticket by telling black wardens to “get back to the jungle”. Yes, really. 

But what is the difference between the apparently offensive term “coloured” and the Ultra-PC-Halle-Berry-Oscar-speech-approved “people of colour”? Apparently “coloured” is offensive because “it makes all non-white people sound the same”. But doesn’t “Black” do the same? It doesn’t exactly hint at the myriad shades from cafe au lait to toffee to chocolate and ebony. 

If someone referred to me as “beigey-pink with yellowish tones” would I retort “I’m WHITE!”? When actually, “beigey-pink with yellowish tones” is a more accurate description of many “white” people’s skin colour? But what if “beigey-pink with yellowish tones” was an old fashioned term, and therefore associated with a time when abuse for “white” people was common? What then? Oh, I’m in a muddle. But I’m still not entirely convinced that it’s helpful for any of us when using an old-fashioned term without malice gets a headline “Racist!” response. 

Sorry I haven’t been very festive today. To cheer us all up, here is a picture of a black Santa. (I think it’s kind of bizarre and disturbing that only white kids get to see Santa with a skin tone that matches theirs.) Seeing Santa (not to mention God) as an old white man with a long white beard... it’s a bit unimaginative, isn’t it? 

❄❄❄Merry Christmas! ❄❄❄

✰☃✰☃✰☃✰☃✰☃✰☃✰☃✰☃✰☃✰☃✰☃✰

And a convertible too... light blue....

Kindles also stop dogs from reading over your shoulder

I have a small substance abuse problem, and the substance is books. I can’t go past a book shop of any kind without popping in for a look around. It is rare that I'll emerge without yet another slightly musty paperback to add to the growing pile next to the bookcase (I’ve run out of actual shelf space).

I’m always excited to talk about books – I’ve never been part of a book club per se, but have an informal one with family and friends where we force-feed each other with books we’ve enjoyed. I’ll never forget the disappointment I felt when an acquaintance told me she was "really into books" and then ruined it all by saying "especially Jane Green"  (For the uninitiated, this is a bit like someone saying they’re really into film, and as you settle in for a chat about Truffaut and Bergman, or at the very least Spielberg and Cameron, they say "Yeah, I thought Transformers was brilliant. Megan Fox is my favourite actress of all time."

Of course, the obvious solution to the storage problem is to get a kindle – but, I reasoned, how dull to just buy my e-books from Amazon. Anyone can BUY a book. But hunting them down, out in the wild? That’s so much more fun. Checking out charity shops puts the thrill in the chase. 

What’s more, I slightly fetishise the books themselves. When I’ve finished a much-loved book, I find myself caressing the cover, or flicking through the pages to glimpse again the words which have brought me so much pleasure. I marvel at the fact that what is essentially a block of wood contains the treasures of time travel, poetry and characters as real as you and me. 

But then I made the mistake of borrowing someone else’s Kindle. I now NEED to have one. The sense of marvel increases at the thought that a small electronic device can contain 1,400 books. It’s so small and light that you can pretty much carry it around with you, ready to whip out at a moment’s notice (commercial breaks, lulls in conversation). You could quite possibly read it discreetly under your desk at work. It is ideal for cosy bedtime stories, as you can hold the kindle and “turn the page” with one hand.  (Am I the only person whose arms get cold if I don’t snuggle them under the covers? Turning pages has always been the only downside of reading in bed. Although it is also sometimes the only thing that will make me stop...) 

Kindles seems to be shaping up at this year’s must have, and I have already been drooling at the free books available... ooh, classics! (Although many other kindle editions will be more expensive than buying second-hand, so my shelves will not be made redundant anytime soon.)  Once you have your kindle, I’m not sure how anyone could “give” you books – I suppose the only way to do it and keep it a surprise would be to kidnap it and secretly get downloading? 

Santa, if you're listening: my Amazon wish list will tell you everything you need to know. And I’ve been a very good girl this year (mostly).

P.S. And if you could get the elves working on a waterproof version for those all-important bathtime reads, that would be great too. Thanks xx