Di is after some new definitions this week. I’d be the first to admit that these are nowhere near in the same league as the ‘Uxbridge English Dictionary’ segment of the BBC radio comedy panel show ‘I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue’, but here goes anyway. Verisimilitude A person with a limited diet, who only…
This week, Di has gone all classical on us. As one who, by virtue of having obtained a Latin ‘O’ level in 1968, and therefore being rightfully able to lay claim to a classical education, this is right up my street (or should that be via strata?). Anyway, Di’s given us ten names from classical…
This week, Pensitivity101’s Di has decreed that D is for ‘definition’, so let’s get down to it. Doohickey To chew on a partner or boy/girl friend’s neck, apparently as a sign of affection, but probably with a slightly sinister proprietorial undertone. [is this still a thing?] Donnybrook A stream running at the bottom of the…
I thought I’d play along with Di’s Fibbing Friday this week… 1. Lev Davidovrich Bronstein is better known as? Wasn’t he that guy in the advert for ice picks? 2. Sopranissimo is the highest pitched version of which reed instrument? The warbler? 3. What is the capital of Azerbaijan? Well duh. A, obviously. 4. Do…
Or, put another – literal – way: ‘Best Wishes’. In France, you’re more likely to hear this than ‘Happy New Year’, although in the subsequent ritual verbal exchanges it’s probably going to be escalated to ‘bonne année‘ (good year) and the final dénouement: ‘et surtout, bonne santé‘ – ‘and, above all, good health’. At this…
…to be jolly? If suppose so, if you like that kind of thing. Anyway, in these parts it’s definitely been the season for Christmas markets (marchés de Nõel). Every self-respecting village (as well as some that patently have no shame whatsoever) puts on a Christmas market at some point during the first two weekends of…
Thirty years or so ago, I worked in ‘The City’ (for the uninitiated, that’s the London financial district). As it was a requirement to get to one’s desk at an ungodly hour in the morning, like most of my fellow wage-slaves I would usually purchase my breakfast on the way into the office. On this…
Cards on the table: I am 71 years of age. This is the only possible conclusion to draw from looking at my official documents, from birth certificate onward. But do I feel 71? That’s an interesting question, which can only really be answered with another: what is 71 supposed to feel like? Darned if I…
The romantic image of rural France is that it’s a haven of quiet peace and tranquility. For the most part it is, but it’s not a vacuum and of course it has its own characteristic sounds. Bizarrely, some people – incomers, obviously – have felt moved to complain that it’s actually too noisy in the…
Ever been heckled by sheep? Well, I have. Round here is mainly sheep country. It’s pretty much entirely agricultural and although there are arable crops and other livestock, there are more sheep than anything else. That means that the bleating of ovines is part of the soundtrack of daily life. Usually, I find this rather…
the only deadhead in the hameau 