Kids' stuff

What a beautiful day - for all of 30 minutes - before I opened the letters' page of yesterday's Daily Telegraph. The newspaper had sneaked itself in to the car so I hadn't read it on the day of issue. That must have been why I felt on top form yesterday. There was none of the miserable, small-minded niggling of Telegraph readers to sap the spirit.

Enjoying the freedom of their letters' page, they were chewing over language usage, a favourite topic in the Home Counties whose residents think they own the English language when we all know that it belongs to the Queen.

While I agreed with some of the points I found myself taking issue with the views of Harold Carter of Pocklington, North Yorkshire (part of the rich farming belt from Harrogate across to the Yorkshire Wolds that I think of as the "Surrey of the North").

Mr Carter revealed that "the word that always grates on my ear is kids. It was used by Tony Blair and is commonly used on the radio.

Billy goat

"I am of the opinion that a kid is the product of a nanny and a billy goat. Its usage in my youth for "child" conjured up a picture a complete urchin.

"When was the term first used to describe a child?" A letter in today's paper says that Rudyard Kipling was using the term a hundred years ago. That's far too recent for Telegraph readers who think would feel more comfortable with Chaucer.

I had used the word in my FT column on creativity only this week, when referring to my own kids. I looked at it once or twice, thought of using "children" instead, but settled on kids because I think this best describes them.

The thing is they are no longer little children. Of the two discussed in the piece, George is 16 next month and Robert, for goodness sake, is 21, a young adult. Yet they are both kids really and some of what I was discussing - see the previous blog - was kids' stuff, except that, as I explained in the column, much of it wasn't.

Viral marketing

Note the way that the letter had to drag in Tony Blair for good measure. I wonder what Mr Carter would make of mash-ups, play lists and viral marketing? My kids understand this stuff, even though they are kids.

I use language that I consider most appropriate, that readers will easily understand and, yes, I do weigh the possibility that something might grate with a reader against the attraction of colloquial usage.

Use of language is a sensitive subject. All writers must respect that. But you can never please everyone. The most important point is this: did readers get the message? Possibly not in Pocklington.

Meanwhile the boys (kids? Young men?) are enjoying the success they're having with their video. It has been interesting to watch the increase in viewing numbers - (Sunday - 80, Monday - 280, Tuesday - 1,000+, Wednesday 2,000 to 4,000 in the day, and this morning(Thursday) the figure was over 6,000. There was a big viewing boost when Rugbydump.com, one of Rob's favourite sites, chose to feature it (at Rob's urging) in its "midweek madness" section on the front page. It's been a great lesson for them - for me too.

Tension builds to fan the kipper

Christmas Eve in Waitrose: people were crawling over the shelves like locusts in one last manic rush. We called at the butcher's for the turkey and a joint of pork and I drove over to Guildford to get some flowers. I like doing the flower arranging at Christmas.

By 10.30am everything was done. The sales had already started in Guildford. It's as if people can't wait to get things over with before they move on to the next thing. Christmas is a time to savour things, to take time out and have some long conversations that shouldn't need to end in a hurry.

Yet, according to some reports, some 3.7m people will be shopping online on Christmas Day. I can understand how some get itchy feet on Boxing Day after 24-hours with the relatives, but there really ought to be a law against shopping on Christmas Day.

Tension is building for our annual "fan the kipper" contest. Will the silver rabbit go to Yorkshire this year, or will it stay in Surrey?

Otherwise, after getting rid of the mother of bad moods that has made life miserable for the rest of the family these past few days, I am beginning to mellow. The dog is clean and white and all is well with the world. That just leaves me time to wish all those in blogging land, wherever you are, whatever your persuasion, my best wishes for Christmas and the New Year. If there is anything you have missed in that last trip to the shops, forget it, it doesn't matter. The best things in life are improvised.

Postscript: The Silver Rabbit resides again in Surrey after various protests of foul play against the eventual winner (me) were rejected by the organising body (also me). There were fears that uncertainty over the outcome could drag on in to the next year, undermining the sport of kipper fanning, but the organiser chose to draw a line under this year's controversies reminiscent of the damaging kipper knobbling scandal that marred contests in the late 1990s. In a brief statement, I said: "The future of the sport is more important than any petty squabbling."