Growing up in rural Ireland we never had a TV at home; my parents didn’t believe watching TV was conducive to a child’s upbringing. This caused some issues at school when I had no idea what everyone else was talking about, both Corrie and Eastenders remained a mystery to me until I left home to go to University. Even today I occasionally baffle people with my lack of knowledge on 80s and 90s popular culture.
My parents eventually bought a TV when I was 19, I came home from Christmas during my first year at University and my sister took me excitedly into the living room to point out the new flat screen TV which was covered by a nice blue cloth. The novelty of having a TV wore off quickly and it remained largely covered apart from the occasional evening when we decided to watch a DVD.
Without a TV most of my childhood and youth was spent reading, I was forever in a corner curled up devouring a book. My mum used to ration my book consumption to one a day when we were on holidays; maybe she thought I’d become crossed eyed from too much reading. And years later my sister told me that I had never played with her when we were growing up as I was always reading.
Books have always been a big part of my life, I used to read anything I could get my hands on and birthdays and Christmases were always filled with books. As a teenager I was totally enthralled by red headed Anne Shirley, Scarlet O’Hara and Emily Brontë’s Cathy to name but a few adored heroines, while simultaneously devouring The Lord of the Rings trilogy and all the Swallows and Amazons books. Then in my early twenties – along with all the fabulous books I read in my English literature classes at University – I discovered P.G. Wodehouse, Isabel Allende, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Åsne Seierstad and loads of other amazing authors.
I’ve always coveted my books and after living in London for two and a half years I finally got all my things shipped over from Ireland. Over Easter my mum and I spent an entire day going through boxes of my stuff – mostly books – in a freezing storage room in the remote town where I grew up in Ireland. I was so excited when everything finally arrived; five boxes filled to bursting point with books and my old bookshelf. I never felt complete without all my books around me and now I can start re reading all my beloved books all over again.
When it comes to books I’m pretty old fashioned. My boyfriend on the other hand is the exact opposite, always up to speed with technology and the latest trends he’s long been threatening to get me a Kindle. My argument has always been that I love having the physical book, breathing in that gorgeous book smell, and the idea of getting into bed and reading a book on a digital device, well that’s quite frankly wrong!
So it was with trepidation that I unwrapped a Kindle for my birthday. I had handled these alien devices in Selfridges before out of curiosity, where I found them to be less scary than I expected. A few weeks later and I’m really liking my Kindle a lot; it’s easy to use, it reads like a book – maybe a stupid observation but it was a real worry–and it’s so light in my handbag compared to the giant copy of Vikram Seth’s A Suitable Boy which I’ve been putting off reading as it weighs a ton.
However, all that said, I still feel a bit weird using it to read in bed. I’ve got a few books left which I will reserve for bed time reading and use my Kindle for tube journeys and everything else. But I’m sure that sooner or later, with a gripping book I’ll properly descend into the dark side of reading, they’re just too convenient!