Funny how English borrows from other languages to express thoughts and ideas. Vive la difference sounds much better than ‘long live the difference’. There are lots of differences to amuse us within the English speaking world, especially the words we use, or just local customs. I’m sure we have all had confusing moments visiting or being visited, or even reading a novel set in another country.
‘How long have I got till the shops shut?’
‘About five hours.’
‘I’ve just got to put the salt in the dishwasher’
‘WHAT!’
Which would you put on your dinner?
When I was young I was worried that I was going to get arrested for jaywalking, even though I wasn’t sure what that was. I have since realised that idea must have come from watching American cartoons, perhaps Top Cat? There is no such offence in Britain…
I was reading a novel and very involved in the plot, then the leading character, who seemed to be quite sensible, decided to have biscuits and gravy for breakfast! Had I misread that…
What oddities have you come across in your travels or reading?
At the Cosy Toastie café Elizabeth’s friends had gathered for their regular coffee morning and eagerly listened as she shared her latest mishaps with the reclining chair her son had bought her. Nobody, including Elizabeth, was sure of the circumstances that had led to John moving in with his mother and there were mixed feelings about the benefits.
‘At least he managed to rescue my old armchairs from the tip and he’s having them professionally reupholstered; unfortunately that will take a while.’
‘But I’m envious you have someone to reach high shelves.’
‘And reach the smoke alarm to pull it off the wall when it’s beeping…’
‘Yes true, though it’s usually John that sets it off. Anyway, I’ve got my handy steps, I’ve had them for years, though I haven’t used them since John moved in. He got those boxes down from the top of the wardrobe that I’ve been meaning to sort out for years; though I had rather they stayed up there; his ideas of what to keep and what to throw!
When the taxi dropped Elizabeth home she was relieved to find a note from John saying he had been called in to work. She was grateful that whatever his job was exactly, it could not all be done from home on the computer. A nice simple cheese omelette for lunch she decided, but where had the cheese grater gone? A search of the cupboards under the countertop was to no avail so she decided to look in the top cupboards; there on the highest shelf was her cheese grater, why on earth had John put it up there? When she went to fetch her trusty steps from their usual corner they had disappeared. As she turned she stepped back into somebody and gasped in fright.
‘Oh it’s you John, I didn’t hear you come in, why do you have to creep around?’
‘I thought you didn’t like me being noisy?’
‘Never mind, now you’re back you can tell me what you’ve done with my steps.’
‘Those dreadful old things, I’ve got rid of them, health and safety.’
‘I couldn’t reach the cheese grater, I need those steps when you’re out.’
‘Remember what happened to Aunt Dorris.’
‘She was ninety nine and had dementia and those legs of hers.’
‘Well it’s best to be prepared, you’re lucky I work for such an innovative company. I’ve got you something very handy, or rather someone who can reach everything and do all those jobs you find difficult.’
‘I can manage fine.’
‘Just come and look in the dining room for the surprise.’
In the corner of the dining room stood a skeletal metal figure.
‘What on earth is that?’
‘Our new prototype, Rufus, you are very privileged to be the first to try it out.’
Elizabeth had never been quite sure what John’s work involved.
‘I thought your company made production lines for factories?’
‘That was when I was an apprentice, we’re in the Twenty First Century now. In Japan they have robots as carers in old people’s homes.’
Elizabeth shuddered. ‘Like those waiters on wheels I suppose. Couldn’t you have given this one a smiley face?’
‘It’s built for action and should transform the lives of the eld… all sorts of people. Do you want a demo?’
Elizabeth’s revulsion at the stranger in her home changed to nervous delight at the news she would have for her friends.
‘Where are his buttons?’
‘He doesn’t have any, you just talk to him like Alexa.’
‘Who on earth is Alexa?’
‘He won’t move unless you say his, um.. its name, otherwise it would be havoc. Rufus, go into the kitchen.’
The figure stretched its arms and legs and wobbled past the table, knocking the paint off the door frame as he went into the hall. Mitsy barked at it then retreated rapidly into the garden. Elizabeth was impressed when Rufus did indeed go into the kitchen.
‘How could he know where to go?’
‘In layman’s terms I downloaded a 3D map of the house.’
Elizabeth was nervous of Rufus and avoided speaking or going near him when John was out, telling herself the dog needed time to quietly get used to its presence. She gave evasive answers when her son returned and asked her how she and Rufus were getting on. John had him pushing the vacuum cleaner and loading the new dishwasher. Elizabeth was slightly miffed that the robot was better than her at learning new gadgets.
When John went away overnight to an important conference, Elizabeth was reluctantly forced to try out Rufus so she could make dinner. John and the robot between them had put away the new weekly Sainsbury delivery and she had no idea what John had ordered or where Rufus had put it. Feeling slightly ridiculous she said to herself, now let’s see how clever you are Rufus Robot and out loud
‘Rufus, get out a tin of tomatoes.’
As he headed for the kitchen Mitsy crouched and growled, then went and hid in her bed.
The robot reached up, opened the cupboard door and clasped a tin, lowering it carefully onto the counter top.
‘Oh clever boy’ Elizabeth found herself saying until she looked at the can and saw it was raspberries.
Well he was probably just a toddler in robot terms, cleverer than John at that age.
‘Rufus, find a tin of Italian whole tomatoes.’
This time the long fingers were rifling through the tins on another shelf and he brought down a tin in each hand, placing them next to Mitsy’s water bowl. Peaches and soup. She would have one more try, with all the shuffling around she had spotted the tomatoes. If he didn’t get it right this time she might call Fran down the road and ask if she wanted to try out that new pizza place.
She pointed up to the highest shelf.
‘Rufus get the tinned tomatoes.’
The robot headed to another cupboard and put his hinged fingers round the old flower vase, but as he lifted it down he lost his grip and it shattered on the tiled floor. Elizabeth sighed and imagined herself trying to get down and sweep up. Then she had an idea and handed Rufus the brush and dustpan.
Before she could utter an instruction he cranked into action and started sweeping. Elizabeth smiled as she imagined this story for her friends. Seeing Mitsy’s nose appear round the door she ushered her away from dangerous splinters. She turned back into the kitchen in time to see Rufus emptying the dustpan into the dishwasher.
‘No, a box of paperbacks, destined to be Christmas presents I expect, at least we have avoided yet another new novel.’
‘So, what’s in that drawer?’
‘More folders full of writing.’
‘Oh goodness, she told me she was going to leave her intellectual property to me… and all her manuscripts!’
‘Ha ha Sis, have you seen what’s in the loft?’
‘Lucky you Sis, most authors are only successful after they have died, so maybe you’ll make some money.’
‘At least she went the way she would have liked, freak accident trying to take pictures for her blog.’
‘How do you know it was an accident, she could have been pushed.’
‘Ha ha, by another jealous blogger?’
‘However it happened at least it was dramatic, she did say to me one day ‘If I’m found dead I do not want headlines in the local news saying ‘Pensioner found dead’ make sure it’s ‘Mystery Death of Author.’
‘She was certainly intending to be home soon, her computer’s still logged in to WordPress, looks like she was in the middle of writing a blog… hmmm Halloween story. We could publish it and no one would be any the wiser that she was dead, that’s if anyone actually reads her blog.’
‘It would be a sort of tribute if her Halloween story still went out.’
‘Yup, the word document is open as well so it would be her genuine writing.’
‘And in the unlikely event that any reader had heard she had died, they would think her ghost had written it!’
‘Okay, you do the blog then and I’ll go on searching for her will.’
DO YOU EVER HEAR A WORD ON TELEVISION OR RADIO, EVEN ON THE NEWS AND THINK IS THAT ACTUALLY A REAL WORD?
Coronated? What happened to Crowned? But then how did the crowning event turn into a coronation?
CIRCUMAMBULATION? CAN’T YOU JUST SAY CIRCLING? It does especially mean walking round a sacred object in a ceremony.
Do you ever write down words then forget the context or what they mean?
Encirculate? Who on earth said this. Probably not a real word, a search comes up with encircle.
Fabulate – to tell a tall tale.
Reheterosexualised – I can only find heterosexualised – which I think can be taken to mean that it is assumed that when you get old or need to stay in a care home it is assumed you revert to being heterosexual. When I came across reheterosexualised it referred to family reinventing the life of the deceased loved one to reclaim them as heterosexual.
Now for words easier on the tongue…
FURTLE – When I heard someone on Gardeners’ Question Time ( BBC RADIO 4 ) talk about furtling around in the compost heap, I knew exactly what she meant and was keen to use it in my writing. ‘To gently delve; to probe or rummage tentatively.’
Metafiction – I confess I had to look this up when another cleverer blogger used the word in a comment on one of my stories. ‘Metafiction is a form of fiction that emphasizes its own narrative structure in a way that inherently reminds the audience that they are reading or viewing a fictional work.’
Today on the radio they were talking about a trend in France to become part time farmers to get away from stressful jobs in the city. The commentator used a phrase I wished I had thought of, though I might well use it for one of my characters….’Those of us who are purveyors of words and tabulations will see the attraction of escaping to a farm.
Have you seen or heard any unusual words lately, or even better, invented some yourself?
‘Another one’s appeared, on the oak tree, pathetic and disrespectful, cultural appropriation or is it misappropriation?’
‘Just ignore them Oberon.’
‘I’m going to take my axe to it this time.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous, they aren’t causing any harm to us, not compared with all the other stuff they do.’
‘What if one of our folk thought it was a real door!’
‘Daddy, why have you got an axe?’
‘Your father’s getting overwrought over the giants again. If you’re not careful Oberon they’re going to see you and then where will we be, doesn’t bear thinking.’
‘Mummy, you said the giants wouldn’t hurt us.’
‘They won’t as long as they don’t believe we exist. Anyway, it’s time you were getting ready for school, have you brushed your wings?’
Since early September I have often been AWOL from WeirdPress with assorted family staying and going on trips. Fortunately my sister is also a writer and always comes to my writers’ group when she stays, so we both did some writing. I took plenty of photos in strange places and we met plenty of weird people, so plenty of blogger fodder. In the meantime here are a few highlights. Can you guess where we might have been?
The home of Cousin Ruth stood out in the row of large Victorian terraced houses. The front garden was packed with raised beds of vegetables and wigwams of runner beans. Lottie had never had much success with vegetables so she was impressed. Before she could peer closer as Tilly and Wesley ushered her up the garden path, the front door flew open and dogs and children hurtled out.
‘Just stand still’ said Tilly, doing the same.
Wesley obviously knew the routine and swept up an escaping toddler, kicked the front gate shut and herded dogs and children through the front door.
‘Wait for the dust to settle’ added Tilly.
As the sound of barking receded Cousin Ruth emerged. She enveloped Lottie in layers of crocheted poncho and guided her inside, warning her to mind the toys. Lottie stepped over a huge dinosaur and dodged a strange lurid pink wheeled contraption. More dogs appeared and she would have been happy to pet them if she had been wearing casual clothes instead of one of her smart book launch outfits.
‘Come through, come through, Kizzy made you some cakes at Brownies.’
Lottie hoped the baking facilities at Brownies were cleaner than the kitchen she glimpsed through a half open door. She was led into a large sitting room where adults were gathered. Tilly appeared at her side.
‘Lottie is a famous author, I’ve read all her best selling novels.’
Nobody looked very impressed.
‘I don’t have time to read’ said Ruth.
‘Hey Lottie, did you hear the joke about the dumb blonde who was asked if she would like a book for her birthday… No thanks, I’ve already got one.’
‘Dad, you can’t say that, politically incorrect.’
‘But I like dumb blondes, I married one didn’t I?’
‘Down Flossie, sorry Lottie, she gets over excited, Bernie put the kettle on. Bernie is Geoff’s son, Geoff is husband number three, he has a large family too, but when he moved in here we weren’t expecting to both have adult children moving back in or to have grandchildren dumped on us. This is Oliver, husband number one, still good friends and Elspeth his wife, they both wanted to meet you and of course some of these grand brats are his as well. Sally did you order the pizzas, is that Dominoes you’re talking to?’
‘No, just booking my flight, I’ll do the pizzas next.’
In the midst of the confusion a child thrust a puppy into Lottie’s arms. It was undeniably cute and fluffy. Her handbag dropped to the floor, but at least she hadn’t dropped the puppy. She felt quite protective, how could this tiny being survive the tumult around it.
‘Sit down, sit down.’
Lottie was thankful to sink into a spot at the end of the sofa, a cosy corner of cushions and puppies as another tiny dog was placed in her lap. For a moment she thought longingly of her little cottage waiting for her return on Sunday evening, but as she looked around she realised she was experiencing life with a capital L. Life went on, it had not ceased when Callum died. Although her head was spinning she felt new ideas tumbling into her brain. Her next novel with the renegade vicar would feature love for real people; families tossed up into the air like a broken jigsaw and tumbling down into a different picture of blended families and romance for each generation. This family certainly seemed very happy.
As Lottie imagined her first chapter her thoughts were interrupted by a piercing scream and a child sobbing.
‘Granny, Tommy pushed her down the stairs, not me.’
Lottie clasped the puppies, she felt a maternal need to protect them from Tommy.
Ruth darted out into the hall and yelled up the stairs, hauled back a child from entering the adults only zone, then shortly returned with two mugs in each hand.
‘Is tea okay, Bernie forgot to ask what you like.’
‘Fine, fine’ said Lottie, wondering where she would put a mug or how she would hold it with her hands buried in warm puppies.
‘I’ll put it on the mantlepiece, we keep all hot drinks up there. Now, I hear that the fairies were a complete surprise, Callum never told you, he must have been in complete denial, which is a shame, because we would have believed him now we have seen them at the bottom of our garden.’
Lottie wondered if this was a joke, had the whole thing been an elaborate joke, but Ruth’s expression looked genuine so she couldn’t resist asking if she could see them.
‘It doesn’t really work like that, we have never told the children.’
‘That’s a relief… I mean I guess you need to protect them.’
‘That’s why we grow the veg in the front garden. When we bought this place we loved the long garden, even though it had run wild. I jokingly said I was going to look for fairies down the bottom of the garden and imagine my surprise when I saw them. We didn’t want to harm them, make the same mistake as Callum’s parents, so we built a wall across and never kept cats. Occasionally I see one on top of the wall watching when the children are playing in their part of the garden, I’m sure they wink and wave. In recent times we have put cctv up and observed them properly and secretly. We never told anyone and we tell new neighbours we are rewilding. Can you imagine scientists wanting to examine them or worse, fairieknappers…’
Charlotte paused, she was even beginning to believe in fairies herself. Was this for real? Her novel about Lottie was meant to be light hearted and fun and if people believed in angels and people used to believe in fairies…
Tilly was guarding the door as Ruth tapped her mobile phone then showed Lottie a picture. Little people, very tiny when you saw them under dandelions. Not like children’s Victorian books, actual miniature people, but with wings, genuine wings, they were flying. Lottie gasped and glanced at Tilly and Wesley, the only adults who were probably sensible.
‘Wesley, have you seen them, is this all for real?’
‘Well the Church of England doesn’t do Fairies but…’
‘They do angels’ said Tilly ‘so why not believe in fairies.’
‘Yes, all God’s creatures are entitled to their own lives so we have a sacred duty to protect them Lottie.’
‘Their secret is safe with me and I certainly won’t write them in my novels, I don’t think my readers’ credibility would stretch that far.’
Lottie thought she must have misheard. She was sitting in the strange but cosy flat that was home to Tilly and her new husband, Wesley the young vicar.
Wesley continued ‘Yes, that’s the family story. Callum came home from university for the holidays, or at least it wasn’t his home as his parents had moved, upsized to a cottage with a long garden. Gardening was going to be their retirement project. Various relatives had gathered to see the new home, but it was Callum who was first to venture into the impenetrable overgrowth. It wasn’t called rewilding back then. Aunty Ruth, Callum’s cousin, was there, well she wasn’t an aunty then, a bit of a wild child, called in to say farewell before going off on her travels. She thought Callum a very studious serious chap, that’s why she was so surprised when he returned to the house with lots of scratches and an angry cat in his arms exclaiming ‘There are fairies at the bottom of the garden.’
He claimed he had caught the cat just in time, but the fairies could be in danger and must be protected in the interests of science.
‘Well’ said Lottie ‘he did have a science degree, but he never mentioned fairies. But then he never mentioned his family either.’
Charlotte paused with her fingers above the keyboard, then scrolled back to see if she had given Callum any family. Hmm not many family was different from not any family. Were his parents dead when Lottie met him? When did she meet him? He was the love of her life so they were probably young…. Perhaps this vicar chap could fill in some gaps for Lottie.
‘Wesley, do fill in a few gaps for me’ said Lottie ‘Callum was an only child?’
‘Yes, unusual for our family, they made sure he had a good education and had high hopes for him.’
‘And he is, was very successful in his career, but not arrogant, happy to support my career.’
‘But his parents did not get to share that success?’ mused Tilly ‘or have gran…’ she blushed and stuttered.
‘It’s okay,’ said Lottie ‘neither of us wanted children, we were happy as we were with each other and as his parents were supposedly dead there was no pressure.’
‘Were they dead?’ said Tilly, obviously enjoying this new family mystery.
‘Well they are now’ laughed Wesley ‘think they had him late in life, but I have no idea when they died.’
‘So when do we get to the part of the story that explains why Callum was estranged from his family. Is estranged too strong a word, lots of cousins don’t keep in touch.’
‘He was upset that nobody believed him, I mean if you really saw fairies it would be amazing. Alas no smart phones then, imagine if he had taken photos, put them on Facebook… anyway the first problem was that the cat was his parents’ new rescue cat, a spiteful creature apparently, but they adored him and Callum took it straight back to the rescue centre.’
‘But surely a cat couldn’t cause a family rift?’
‘Worse was to come. Callum found plenty of wood, wire netting etc in an old shed and erected a fence, creating a fairy sanctuary. He pleaded with his parents not to touch the bottom of the garden while he worked out how to set up observation, David Attenborough style and what experts he could find who would believe him.’
‘I can’t imagine that would be easy’ said Tilly. ‘I never thought about fairies seriously before, but how would they survive with all the dangers from foxes and human boots, it doesn’t bear thinking of.’
‘I agree’ said Lottie. ‘Callum did like butterflies and insects, would never kill a spider and it was bees that became his main work before it was fashionable to worry about bees.’
‘Oh how lovely,’ said Tilly ‘perhaps he was always hoping he would see fairies again.’
‘That is a nice thought, but why didn’t he tell me, I would not have laughed.’
‘I’m not sure I should tell you two ladies the rest of the story, you may find it disturbing as they say on the news.’
‘You have to tell us now’ said Tilly.
‘Callum was due to go off on a uni. expedition to Scotland or wherever, and he left with nobody believing a word he said, thought he was having them on, trying to be clever just because he had made it to university. When he returned a week later his parents had rotovated the whole garden ready for their vegetable beds and fruit trees.’
‘Oh no’ cried Tilly.
‘But then what happened?’ said Lottie.
‘I think he went back to carry on with his studies and no one heard from him again.’
‘He had Cousin Ruth’s address, so surely he had some notion he would get in touch one day.’
‘I’m sure he did’ said Tilly ‘and don’t you worry about what the rest of the family say this afternoon.’
Lottie’s heart sank, she just wanted to stay with Tilly and Wesley in their cosy nook.
‘Oh dear, what’s happening this afternoon?’
‘Round to Aunty Ruth’s to meet the rest of the family.’
‘But I thought I met them at dinner.’
‘Some of them.’
Lottie hoped to delay venturing out.
‘Tell me about this place, why is it called The Transept’.
‘De-consecrated church that was going to be sub divided into flats, but they only got ours in the east transept finished before lockdown and the builders going into liquidation. So we did some reclaiming and hold relaxed services in the nave, unofficially; the bishop is not quite sure what to do with us. You can come to messy church tomorrow, the rest of the family will be there.’
Lottie was feeling a bit overwhelmed, but after having writer’s block when Callum died she began to feel a romantic novel coming on, a novel about a renegade vicar…
‘I should tell you I don’t go to church Wesley.’
‘That’s okay, I don’t read your novels, romance not really my thing. But anyone can come to our services.’
Charlotte paused, that was enough writing for today. How on earth had fairies got into the story, oh yes, she was going to the offbeat writers group down by the river and their topic was fairies at the bottom of the garden.
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 