There was Man Friday who, because he was black, and only because of that – not because he didn’t have excellent survival skills – became Crusoe’s servant. He carried sausages in his pocket, which were soon trailing along the ground to be got at by the dogs of the neighbourhood. I remembered Epaminondas who “didn’t have the sense he was born with”, who carried butter on his head and it melted all over him. No one was brown or black unless there was something wrong with them or they held a lowly position in society. Or you died in the snow while selling matches. If you were poor you usually did some brave deed that made you rich by the end of the story, when you would marry a princess or a prince. There were malevolent aunts and terrible stepmothers. They did not belong in extended families, did not speak as I spoke.
Sometimes they lived in large houses and had nurses and maids to look after them. The children I read about lived in other countries, lands of snow and robins.
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