Pale and Interesting

As someone born with naturally fair and easily burnt skin, I have always tried to be careful not to burn (except for a brief and foolish teenage flirtation with sunbathing). When my dad, who is originally from Ireland, and has the same skin type as me, was diagnosed with the most aggressive form of skin cancer (thankfully at an early stage), three and a half years ago, I became even more careful, and tried to stay out of the sun and protect myself properly.

I had an interesting conversation with a friend last week. Her father-in-law has recently been diagnosed with the same type of cancer, melanoma, but unfortunately his had already spread. Her mother in law told her to, "promise me you'll celebrate your fair skin, and give up on trying to have a tan." These words struck me, and made me think of the strange change in Western attitudes towards skin shade that happened some time during the last century. I have achieved a state of being comfortable in my own skin, at least the colour of it, in recent years, but I remember being bitterly humiliated as a teenager, when people would call me "milk-bottle legs".

According to Wikipedia, the trend for tanning in the 20th century was originally started by Coco Chanel in the South of France in the 1920s, when she accidentally tanned. Prior to this, having fair, pale skin was a sign of beauty and status, because it meant you were rich enough that you didn't have to do manual labour. After this, having a tan became a sign of beauty and status, because it meant you were rich enough to afford expensive holidays abroad. Interestingly, melanoma is the only cancer where rates are higher in social class I than social class V. In many cultures today, particularly in India, fair is still considered beautiful and skin lightening creams sell like fake tan does in England.

Anyway, I thought for the sake of my friend, and anyone else still struggling to come to terms with pale skin, I would create a small celebration of beautiful pale complexions. And these women are not just beautiful, they are interesting. They have something to say for themselves.

"I prefer a man who leaves and gives expensive jewels." Satine, Moulin Rouge














"Perhaps I didn't always love him as well as I do now. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable." Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice






"I will cleave to you Dunadan, and turn from the twilight. But there lies the land of my people and the long home of my kin." Arwen, Lord of the Rings






Don't tan! Wear sunscreen!

my day out

I am currently enjoying (or when not ranting about the Inland Revenue, I'm enjoying) two weeks off, which are built into my rota after nights. Last week I went straight down to London following my night shift, to see a friend who needed some moral support the night before a professional exam, for various reasons. Also stayed with some other friends, and then spend a couple of days with my Grandpa in Hertfordshire. In the midst of all this visiting, I ended up with a daytime on my own in the capital, with no-one to see and nothing to do except enjoy myself. I enjoyed wandering around anonymously - I have a special weakness for that feeling of freedom that comes when nobody in the world knows exactly where you are and what you are doing. I had that feeling quite a lot during my year in halls, but not really much before or since. Of course I wouldn't like it if it happened all the time...

I was staying near the British Museum, so went to take a look at all the art and statues we have pinched from around the world. I was one day too early for the Terracota Army, but I've never seen the rest of the museum, so I spent a happy morning looking at mummies, sarcophagi, Greek gods and venetian clocks. I ate lunch at an outside table in a cafe in Russell Square Gardens, enjoying the sunlight scattered through the trees, and trying to look glamourous and sophisticated. Then I spent the afternoon at Camden Market being tempted by hand-painted masquerade type masks, Pashminas from Kashmir and Japanese T-shirts. In the end I resisted and just bought a vintage T shirt for mr me, and a lovely cup of chai rooibos tea for me. It was a good day. Sometimes it's good to be a tourist; sometimes it's good to be alone.

What I hate most about being a grown-up

Forms. Admin. The general hassle and stress that can be generated by pieces of paper.

Grrrr. Have just spent most of the afternoon searching through bank statements, cheque book stubs and P60s to ensure I had all the right figures to fill out my tax return online. Turns out I was missing just one - my UTR, which is a reference number they give you when they ask you to do the tax return. In fact they didn't ask me to do one, but I wanted to for various reasons, including having 3 different employers during the last tax year, who paid and taxed me at different rates, and because I'd recieved some untaxed income from report fees etc. You would have thought the Inland Revenue would be happy to hear from honest people like me who self-refer. But no, very suspicious behaviour. "why do you want to fill in a tax return?" Perhaps they suspect what I suspect - that they owe me more than I owe them. Now it turns out I may not get the essential bit of information until after the deadline where you have to work everything out yourself. This would be very Bad News given my poor head for finance. And what my dad would say to me when I asked him to help me. I suspect he might feel that i had left things a little too late. But I maintain it's all Their Fault. These are the moments when I wish I was a kid again, and my financial calculations involved mostly wondering how long it would be before I could afford another Sylvanian family.