421 words for snow

I read a very interesting article the other day about  the compilation of the first Historical Thesaurus of Scots. Academics putting together the tome have discovered that there are 421 Scottish words for snow, in all its multiplicity of forms. For example, 'blin-drift' means drifting snow, while 'flindrikin' means a slight snow shower. This puts the Inuit total of only 50 worlds for snow well and truly in the shade.

In addition to weather, the thesaurus will cover sport. It turns out that there are 369 different Scottish words associated with the playing of marbles, a game that has been extremely popular with Scottish children for generations.

Despite having lived in Scotland for a number of years, I am not familiar with any of the words connected with snow or marbles that were quoted in the article. I guess this is because I am not a native Scot and because neither snow nor marbles featured high on my agenda during my time living in the country.

But this got me thinking about how easy it would be to invent words that don't exist and, if enough people were prepared to take part in the mass deception, convince others (non-natives) that these words were legitimate and had been around forever. If you did that, I imagine that people might actually start using those made-up words and, voilà, they would enter the language for real.

And that is exactly how vocabulary does--or can--develop. Not the mass deception bit, of course, but someone starting to use a new word or an old word in a new way, others following suit and, before you know it, that word becoming ubiquitous.

An interesting article, as I said...

Big school beckons

I can't quite believe it -- my youngest child started secondary school this week. Yet it seems like only yesterday that she was a tiny tot starting primary school.

And my oldest child is already starting on GCSE work!

Where does the time go?

Pride and Prejudice

We went to see "Pride and Prejudice" by the Pantaloons last weekend. This was an open air theatre production in the grounds of Waddesdon Manor, and it was fabulous!

The Pantaloons is a small touring theatre company which puts on a variety of plays during the course of the year. They aim to "recapture an aspect of Shakespeare's drama which the modern naturalistic theatre has lost: the riotous energy of the clown". What this means in practice is that they bring a huge amount of fun and invention to their productions. The actors clearly love their jobs and enjoy working together.They specialise in really funny and clever ad libbing, and they constantly interact with their audience.

During the performance that we saw, the actors managed to weave into the script comments about a hot air balloon that just happened to be floating past, and about the fact that the after-dark illumination of Waddesdon Manor made it look a bit like Batman's layer! They also wandered through the audience (who were picnicking on the grass), stealing bits of food and glasses of wine -- again, all at pertinent points in the plot.

We enjoyed the show so much, that we are about to book tickets for the Pantaloons' autumn production of Macbeth. I'll be very interested to see how they make that play amusing -- but I'm absolutely sure they'll manage it with great finesse!

The take away coffee culture

On my walk into work the other day I felt thirsty, and so I popped into a cafe to pick up a bottle of water to take into the office with me.

Something struck me as I emerged -- 95 per cent of the people around me, who were making their way to work just like me, were clutching take away cups of coffee. And almost everyone in the cafe had been purchasing take away coffee, with the exception of one guy who was buying a bottle of water, like me.

There is much talk at the moment of Britain's economy being kept afloat by the (relatively new) coffee shop culture, but I've never thought much about this before now. However, it's incredible that so many people seem to purchase expensive coffee to start off their working days. I wonder what's happened to rolling into the office and making a cup of instant while waiting for your computer to start up?

Not that I can talk, of course. I've never been much of a fan of office kitchens and shared milk that is about to go off!

Summer holidays!

Ah, the joy of the summer holidays! I have become a taxi service for my eldest, it seems...

For example, the other day I found myself driving around the countryside picking up a whole gaggle of teenagers before delivering them for an afternoon out in a neighbouring town. One of the other mothers was on pick up duty a few hours later.

My eldest was doing directions for me and, to give her her due, she was pretty good. But I noticed that the quality of the directions decreased as each new friend got into the car...

The conversation amongst the young was riveting. Lots about texting. Lots about fashion. Lots of gossip. All discussed at high volume.

When we reached the other end, excitement levels were so high that everyone forgot to say goodbye to me.

Do you remember being a teenager?!

Le Creuset

We had an interesting mealtime incident the other day. We were celebrating a family birthday with a fondue at home. At the end of the meal, one of the children present at the table looked at the fondue pot and commented, 'That's Le Creuset, isn't it?'

It was.

It struck me as amusing somehow that this young person was familiar with Le Creuset tableware. I mean, how middle class is that?!

The end of term -- and the end of primary school

We finally reached the end of term on Friday. Not only was it the end of term, but it was also the end of primary school for my youngest. So, no more primary school, ever. Hurrah!

However, it's been a hectic run up to the end of primary school. Over the past two weeks, we have had the following: the school disco, sports day, the leavers' performance (two nights), Fun on the Field (a social event that takes place on the school field on a Saturday evening and involves brining a picnic supper and listening to local bands playing), the leavers' picnic, the leavers' service, and the leavers' party (an evening event at the local open air pool, requiring a parent to be present with each child).

I think we're going to need the six weeks' break to recover from the welter of primary school leaving events... Here we come, secondary school -- refreshed, I hope!