Let's talk rubbish!

As I have previously mentioned, these days, no-one seems to talk 'rubbish'. No, these days it's BS ('bulls***').

What a repulsive image. And how boring, seeing as how so many people seem to use that word. (Well, they do in the audiobooks I listen to on YouTube.)

We need to revive other words for 'rubbish'. 

Here's a list. Pick some, scatter them throughout your speech and make disapproval of other people's opinions more colourful.

- balderdash
- twaddle
- poppycock
- hogwash
- piffle
- claptrap
- nonsense
- baloney (it's not just a sausage)
- moonshine
- hooey
- eyewash
- dribble
- rot
- cobblers
- drivel
- bilge
- guff
- tommyrot
- tosh
- codswallop
- bunk
- horsefeathers
- humbug
- bosh...

Come on, now. You have to admit that they're a lot better than the sadly ubiquitous BS.

Put a BOLO out on the past perfect, now!

Having listened to a lot of audiobooks in January and being an inveterate listener of BBC Radio 4, I've noticed something...the past perfect seems to be disappearing. 'Be on the lookout' for the past perfect, folks. It seems it is becoming a rare and elusive thing. Rather like that 'butterfly of love' that Bob Lind was warbling about back in 1966.

Just this morning, I was listening to a programme about the life of Bessie Smith, the famous belter of blues songs. When she got her first recording contract, the man she was seeing pawned his watch to buy her a red dress. As the author wrote, this was the first present of her life. "When she sang, she wore the dress he bought for her." NO! That should be "When she sang, she wore the dress HE HAD BOUGHT FOR HER."

Just as the past perfect is also called the now rarely used term 'the pluperfect',  German also has various names for the tense, including the 'dritte Vergangenheit'(third past tense - after simple past and present perfect), Plusquamperfekt (about as current as 'pluperfect') and, best of all, the 'Vorvergangenheit'. 

As I have previously mentioned, German words are often much easier to understand because the say what they mean in German without recourse to Latin or Greek. 'Vorvergangenheit' means 'before past'. And that tells you how to use it.

In the sample sentence above, 'when she sang' and 'she wore' happened concurrently (i.e. at the same time). She wore the dress while she was singing. Same time. And we are talking about a past event. One day, she wore that dress while singing. The past perfect or 'before past' is used to refer to an event that happened before the event in the past that you've already mentioned. Hence "she wore the dress he had bought her (some time before she put it on and sang)".

Is that really so hard to comprehend? And yet, time and again, I hear the simple past (he bought) used where the past perfect is required.

And there seems to be a rare variant: the mangled past perfect. A very good psychological thriller by an Irish writer talked of something that 'had arose'. Say what? 'Had arose'? You take the simple past of 'have' (had) and stick the past participle of the verb behind it (or 'the third form of the verb' if you prefer). Arise, arose, arisen. So she should have said that something 'had arisen'. Sadly, this writer is not the only one that can produce a mangled past perfect. Five out of ten for effort, though. At least she was aware that the poor tense existed.

Covid-19's first birthday

It's been about one year since news of the pandemic started circulating.

A writer on The Guardian asked people what they were missing and this was my response:

I'm not a huggy person, so I don't miss personal contact. In fact, it's a relief not to have people lunge at you to give you a hug.

However, I miss being able to mingle with people, to sit with like-minded people in a dark cinema, eating popcorn and enjoying a film together.

I miss going for a walk with my walking group and having conversations on all sorts of things with different people throughout the walk.

I miss being able to sit back in a cafe with a friend and chat over a coffee while enjoying the sunshine.

I miss being in a library and trawling through the newspapers and journals to see what interesting information catches my eye.

I miss going to the monthly 'oldies disco' and to the fun quiz evening and 'Anjas Singabend', what I call 'mass karaoke', and enjoying being with lots of like-minded people all having a great time with no worries about what other people are thinking of them.

I miss being able to teach English in evening classes with all the people sitting so they can all see and interact with each other.

I miss going to my evening classes and singing together or relaxing while we all draw and sketch together. That's my 'mediation'.

I miss seeing the early morning crowd in the gym and feeling my muscles get to work on the various weight machines.

I miss browsing in bookshops. I miss browsing in shops, full stop. I need a new address book. Too many people I know move a lot. Yes, I could order it online, but I want to feel it in my hands first, though.

I miss going to the outdoor swimming pool in the summer months. A nice swim and then sit in the shade of a tree with a good book, occasionally watching the other bathers enjoy themselves.

I miss a lot. And I'm really angry that people are just not getting the message about keeping their distance.

The death of the indirect question

Why is it that so few native speakers of English know how to form an indirect question these days? I have to teach this point to foreigners and they can do it. I mentioned this on The Guardian website recently and a non-native speaker thanked me, because they had learnt English at school and the person was wondering whether he or she had learnt it incorrectly.

What am I on about? 

Earlier this month, I was looking at a cartoon strip by an Australian artist (First Dog on the Moon) https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2021/feb/05/how-did-we-find-things-out-before-google-remember-going-to-the-library#comments).

In the second frame, there is the following question: "Can you tell me when is bin night?"

Totally wrong. 

A direct question relies on inversion to show it is a question and not a statement: "When is bin night?" See? The 'is' comes before 'bin night'. "Bin night is Thursday." "When is bin night?" Easy.

An indirect question starts off with a phrase that makes it clear that what is being said is a question:

"Do you (happen to) know....when bin night is?"
"Could/Can you tell me.....when bin night is?"
"Would you be so kind as to tell me....when bin night is?"

The introductory phrase is the question bit and what comes after it keeps the same word order as in a statement.

Statement: He reads thrillers.
Direct question: What kind of books does he read?
Indirect question: Do you know what kind of books he reads?

Statement: The train leaves at 12.
Direct question: When does the train leave?
Indirect question: Do you happen to know when the train leaves?

English is a Germanic language and this point of grammar is the same in German, too.

Statement:            He is here.                                       Er ist hier.
Direct question:     Where is he?                                   Wo ist er?
Indirect question:   Please tell me where he is.             Bitte sag mir, wo er ist.

And yet so many people in the UK can't seem to make an indirect question, whether they're on BBC radio, on TV or writing for newspapers. It's almost a miracle when you hear someone actually make a correct indirect question. I've heard it twice in the last two weeks, and I listen to the radio constantly.

I always think that if they can't get the grammar of their own native language right, what else can't they get right? Facts?

Voluntary deafness

I often have to marvel at how much I've changed over time.

When I did my homework, I was often able to do it with the TV on, or with a record playing in the background. I'd sit in front of the TV with a book in my hand, dipping into it, while listening to what was happening on the small screen.

These days, however, I sit and read without the aid of music or a radio or TV programme. In fact, not only do I sit so that I can hear what the neighbours might be doing, I often go to the bedroom to get my wax ear plugs and sit in complete and utter silence in my yellow room. Totally in my own head and focused on my book. For hours and hours.

When I was 14, that would have been the last thing I'd have predicted about my future life. How times change. 

I'm due my first vaccine dose in April

A couple of days ago, I found a 'vaccine calculator' for the state of NRW online.

I entered my details and found that - given my age and circumstances - I shall be due my first dose of the Covid-19 vaccine in April. April 2022, that is.

It seems I'll be housebound for over another year. 

Trollope, Dickens and...Terry Pratchett

Even while the genius writer that was Terry Pratchett was still alive, he was compared to Charles Dickens.

Well, after going through "a Trollope a month", i.e. a book by Anthony Trollope, a 19th century writer, I am now challenging myself with "a Dickens a month". After kicking off with Nicholas Nickleby in January, published in serial from from 1838 to 1839, I'm now on Barnaby Rudge from 1841, a much better book than I was led to believe, given that there hasn't been a dramatization of it since 1960*

And I can see what they mean with the comparison. As with Pratchett, the plots of Dickens' novels just zip along, while some of the characters from the books by Dickens would fit very comfortably into the Discworld. Characters such as Newman Noggs from Nicholas Nickleby, for example, a minor character but an important one as he forms a kind of benevolent link between various characters. Even the name is redolent of those in the Discworld, such as Rufus Drumknott, Agnes Nitt, Sacharissa Cripslock and Lupine Wonse. To mention but a few.

If you want a longer list of the wonderful names that Terry Pratchett came up with, look no further:
https://wiki.lspace.org/mediawiki/List_of_Pratchett_characters

Yesterday evening, while consulting The Oxford Companion to English Literature, as edited by Margaret Drabble, I came up with a way to produce new and wonderful names, names that sound so good, it would be worth writing a story just to use them: open the book at a random page, find a name that can be used as a first name, then open the book at another random page and use the first surname you see.

You end up with names such as Ida Catnach, Kay Pfefferkorn, Tucker Meynell, Hesiod Blackmore, Blake Kentigern and Powys Priestley. Be honest, you could imagine coming across them in some novel, couldn't you? Especially one by Dickens.

* I have to correct this. This information was taken from the wonderful imdb.com website. I have since read that there was a stage adaptation as well as a BBC radio adaptation of this book since then.

The death of mild expletives?

 As I have previously mentioned, I did a lot of cross-stitching in January and, in order to keep myself amused while my eyes were glued to the material, I listened to a lot of audiobooks. And I mean A LOT.

About half of them were by US authors, the rest by authors from the UK. What I noticed is that, these days, whenever anyone swears in a story, they go straight to the 'heavy-duty' swear words, those that are also called 'Anglo-Saxon', often only four letters long.

No-one seems to use the word 'bloody' any more. Yes, I know that is blasphemy rather than swearing, but still. It's never 'bloody hell' but 'f****** hell'. Whatever happened to 'blinking heck', a phrase used to cover up the more blasphemous one?

No-one is told to 'buzz off' or the much uglier 'bog off'. No, they are told to 'p*** off''. 

And no-one is 'cheesed off' when they are annoyed with someone. No, they are 'p***** off' with them.

Women are not called a 'bitch' or a 'cow' but the 'C-word'. Horrible. Simply dreadful.

What happened to phrases such as "Take a very long walk on a very short pier"? (1)

'Damn', 'bother', 'blast', 'dang' and 'drat' seem to have already died a death in stories.

Nothing is 'rubbish' any more. It's the S-word. 

When someone talks nonsense, people don't say "Fiddlesticks!", "Hogwash!", "Poppycock!" or (my favourite) "Piffle!".(2) Nope. straight to 'BS'.

Maybe writers think they are being daring, bold and realistic. Personally, I don't spend time with people who talk like that. 

By using such a small range of expletives, I just feel that people's linguistic expression is becoming very limited - and a whole lot less colourful. What a shame.

(1) Or the phrase that cropped up in westerns by J.T. Edson: "Go to hell and back (by the long route)."

(2) Not to mention the magnificent 'balderdash'.

What D'dorf and Venice have in common

A week ago, when February started, I suddenly realised that there was a word that I hadn't heard or read at all, even though, at this time of the year, it should be a big topic of discussion for many in certain parts of Germany. And the word is 'Carnival'.

In Germany, Carnival culminates in parades on Rosenmontag, "Rose Monday", which takes place one day before Pancake Day (Shrove Tuesday), which in turn takes place one day before Ash Wednesday, which marks the start of Lent.

For many, Carnival is like Marmite in the UK: you love it or loathe it. Some even leave town for the weekend to avoid the crowds of Carnival revellers, all dressed up in fancy costumes - some silly, some inspired - and the effigy-laden floats that wend their way through a pre-determined route through towns. The effigies on the floats often make political statements and the best find their way into the media. People standing on the floats throw sweets (candies) into the crowd, some of whom hold open umbrellas upside down to catch as many as possible before they land on the street. I always think that anyone who lands in Germany for the first time during Carnival must think they've landed in a lunatic asylum when they ride on public transport or walk through the streets and they see clowns, cowboys and human-sized furry animals everywhere. 

Meanwhile in Venice, the revellers look so much classier.

What, however, both Drizzledorf and Venice have in common right now is that Carnival is not taking place. I came across this article in The Guardian two days ago:

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/feb/05/carnival-time-in-empty-venice-nobodys-thinking-about-celebrating

This bloody virus is a right downer. I can only imagine that next year's Carnival in D'dorf will be twice as frantic as usual.

One very active fox

Work-wise, January was a very quiet month. I was often finished by lunchtime. At 4.50 p.m. German time, I then switched on ITV3 via the Internet and then settled down to an evening of crime series, always kicking off with Midsomer Murders. 

Now when I was growing up, I never ever ever heard a fox. However, every time there is a night-time scene on Midsomer Murders, you hear the cries of a fox.

What I wonder is this: do they just play a recording of a fox to make the scene a bit more interesting or is there one very star-struck fox in the area who, whenever he or she sees a camera crew at night, rushes over to take part in the filming?