Wishbone Soup Cures Everything

The most ordinary word that my random dictionary searches have given up do far: the most frequently used word in the whole of the English language. Used to add specifics to a noun, though some explanations say it is used to restrict a noun's meaning: both views are valid. The result is the same: it points to a particular, a definite, hence the title. It is something I like to look out for whilst editing (and I self-edit so if you find numerous examples of a misplaced 'the' please be kind) because whilst attempting to type at the speed of thought one does chuck out rough words and clogged up phrases and whether a thing is any thing or that specific thing and why care about it is easily overlooked. It makes a difference though. 'The birds in the hedge' specific yet bland 'Birds in a hedge' could be any place with birds and at least one hedge, allows space for reader to relate to own experience 'Birds in this hedge' specific and more ly

A poem composed of 14 lines. [Reads dictionary explanation, yawns: not fully attentive] The English convention is 10 syllables for each of these, and a choice of styles: Petrarchan, Shakespearian or Miltonic being our main three. They differ in rhyme scheme and pacings of octaves (first eight lines) and sestets (last six lines, aka sextets.) And it should be Iambic (the rhythm that runs soft LOUD soft LOUD.) [Nods head absentmindedly: facts are read with some recall, except:] 'Why these particular numbers?' [Scratches head to denote thought] They are pleasantly even They fit musical forms (sonnet from the Italian, 'little song') They are long enough to set up and answer a question or two, not so long the reader loses track/interest Long enough to play with form and make different styles from one format: a sort of literary franchise? It proved popular, so writers kept at it The Shakespearian form breaks mostly into 3 quatrains (4 line sta

Posting late today- blaming those Little Grandchildren for their persistently welcome distractions. Today we went chocolate making at the Eden Project. Back home to build a bonfire, eat homemade burgers, watch Frozen (love the summer smitten snowman) eat some more chocolate and finally ease sleep in to the seriously overtired with several Dr Seuss stories. This week's dictionary of choice is the R.W Burchfield's 1998 revised third edition of New Fowler's Modern English Usage. It gives me a phrase, but I think it counts, and it makes my late post an easy post so I accept it. Last night: The Little Grandchildren played tug of war. Grandad joined in. Little Grandson (Age 4) suggested to Little Granddaughter (Age 2) that, together, they could beat Grandad. She, being in agreement, promptly dropped the rope and punched Grandad in the chest. Quite a nice punch too, Granma noted, but mostly she was laughing.

Mr, Boy and me have been building a shed. This project started October 1st 2012, when we turned up in the car park of a supermarket that was refitting its trolley bays. Mr had a vision, permission to remove the decommissioned bays and a hired van. It was excellent and perilous fun (like giant Meccano that can fall on you and squish your bones.) We took three of the old bays, I think, with some minor flesh wounds. Last summer Project Polytunnel commenced (going well, although more space is used storing the future shed flooring than for growing.) This year, Project Shed is under way. The satisfaction layers up: that we saw potential, that we worked hard, that we took a risk, that people who thought we were bizarre may still think that but they also have visible shed envy, that here is a space we made coming to fruition. Not until the light is fading and the last of the outer paneling fixed is the daily writing routine approached. I almost can't be bothered to find a rando

Polonaise , the dictionary selector dumps on me this morning. A what? I can read the definition but what to make of it in terms of producing a post that contains any kind of illumination? Some further research is pursued. Strong coffee is brewed. Notes, gleaned from the Encyclopedia Brittanica: 'polonaise,  Polish polonez ,  dignified ceremonial dance, 17th-19th century, opened court balls. Origin- warrior’s triumphal dance? Music used 1573, coronation Henry of Anjou, King of Poland. Dancers, in couples according to social position, promenaded, gliding steps accented by bending the knees slightly on every third step. 3/4 time. Used as musical form by Beethoven, Handel, Mussorgsky, Chopin.' I am then distracted (or am I being inspired? That's a perpetual conundrum of any writer) by something not revealed in the dictionary definition: ' robe à la polonaise , woman's garment of the later 1770s and 1780s similar revival style 1870s inspired by

So far the random word selecting process has given a random list, this was not a surprise. But yesterday's nonagenarian and today's old seem at first too similar. The first definition of old in this week's dictionary is '1. Having existed or lived for a relatively long time.'  Ah, but old is a word related to a wider concept of time, I like the last one best:  '2. Having a specified age…  3. Dear or cherished through long association.' The next column in the O section is taken up with associated words: old boy, olden, Old English, old-fashioned, old hat, old man's beard, Old Master, old school tie, oldster, Old Testament, old-timer, old wives' tale, Old World. It's a lovely jumble, though it occurs to me that many of these words can be used with affection or in a derogatory way. That long association can also breed contempt, I suppose. The difficult thing about hanging around for some time is to keep (and to express)

(Iris Apfel: portrait from Pinterest) Nonagenarian is the word of today's random selection (from the Latin nonageni - ninety each.) Spoken aloud ( say nonna-j'n- air ian) it has a lively, almost flirtatious feel. Which is how one would wish to be, in one's tenth decade of living. My How To Be Old Wish List includes: I will wear mostly sequined dresses and Wellington boots I will sunbathe nude in a fragrant garden I will swim in wild water I will walk and meditate and, after some kindly thought to the matter, tell the blunt truth always. More people are living longer and staying lively, it seems; this study is fairly typical: Lively Nineties Trend : reassuring for those of us who relish the idea of being old and delightfully sparky, of concentrating eccentricities and allowing Buddha-nature full bloom. But: uh oh: there's a but! 'While the study suggests people are living better after 90, they have to make it to their 10th decade first,