Wing-Ding

WOTD is strangely reticent about the origin of wing-ding, saying only that it is a rhyming compound from 1920s America.  I know wingdings as a sort of pictorial font, so I was surprised to find that it means a party, or celebration.

We have had a super wing-ding today, as Jacob, Philippa, Evie & Max, Sarah & Blue came here for our family Christmas gathering. Some years it is on 25th December, but other times it has to wait a few days until we are all available. It was a real joy, everyone was happy and well fed, there were presents lovingly and thoughtfully given and received and I had the best time. Neil has worked hard in the kitchen and all the clearing up is done. Now it is time to finish the prosecco,pack my suitcase for tomorrow and chill out to Genesis, Nad Sylvan and the Prog sampler CD (Shining Pyramid, The Enid, Kiten Pyramid and Edison's Children)

 

 

 

 

Abdominous

Oh, unkind WOTD! Yes, I am abdominous, i.e. having a large belly; potbellied. This is the end of the feasting season, which starts in late November with Sarah's birthday and continues through the birthday celebrations for various family members, merging seamlessly with company feasts and suchlike until we arrive at the mega-feast of the Christmas meal and then tapers off down to new year

This year we decided to enjoy the luxury of a 3 night Christmas break at a local hotel. Food was lovely and available in large quantities all the time, so we ate, drank and were very merry, meeting and enjoying the company of like-minded couples. Happy New Year to Gloria & Brian, Richard & Sheila and Lyn & Mike, if any of you should read this.
Still, I am glad to be back home. I have to prepare for a family feast tomorrow, then go to Somerset for more feasting at Spencer House. No wonder I am abdominous!!
Lots of washing has been done. Neil did the shopping for tomorrow and cooked sausages, JPs and veg for dinner. Music from Procul Harum, and Steve Rothery (new CDs for Xmas)

Festoon

I'm sorry. Extreme tiredness caused by lack of sleep caused by coughing meant that I missed gastronome and irenic. But, as suddenly as it came, my cough has gone (or was it the Broncho Stop pastilles that Neil got me?). I am pleased to come in with WOTD "Festoon", as I am sure that all our houses are suitably festooned.

 

Some go for the gaudy bright look, with flashing lights in the window, inflatable Santa on the roof and 2 wicker reindeers grazing on the patio. Some altogether more refined, like Rebecca's festive flowers. I tend to be more minimalist these days with just a decorated tree. Neil loves Christmas so he tends to get more and more decorations each year. It looks really festive with our festoons.

Which is strange, because tomorrow we go to The George hotel in Rye to enjoy their 3-night Christmas package. I have never done this before, and it looks like a great itinerary, but I am still anxious, hoping it is enjoyable. Our festoons will be all alone

I won't be blogging while I am away, as I haven't figured out how to get my blog page on my tablet, so I'll see you again on 28th December. Have a great Christmas, everyone! I wish you health, happiness and peace for the coming year. I love you all.

Oenophile

At this intensly celebratory time of year,  everybody thinks they are an oenophile, for this WOTD means 'a lover of wines' (from the Greek 'oinos' = wine). For example, nearly 200 people (including 12 from Informed Financial Advice) gathered at  Powdermills hotel near Battle for their Xmas Party night. I would say that we were not atypical in consuming 12 bottles of wine between us, as well as all the before-and-after-party drinks. So there were clearly plenty of oenophiles dancing the night away last night at Powdermills.

 

However, another meaning for the WOTD is 'a connoisseur of wine' and if there were any of those there last night, I would be very surprised. I imagine the connoisseur drinking 1, maybe 2 glasses of excellent wine, chilled (or warmed) to exactly the correct temperature, from superb glasses in a sophisticated and peaceful environment. Not imbibing as much as you can in the shortest possible time and getting uncontrollably, schreechingly drunk by the end of the night. 

Fortunately, my colleagues all seemed to drink plenty without getting out of control, and I think a good time was had by all. I had to leave the party early, due to my uncontrollable cough and my sensitivity to the flashing disco lights, but was able to join them in the bar later.

We met again this morning for a tasty and filling breakfast, with some a little subdued, but most in good spirits. 

Today I have tried to rest to control my cough, I have helped Santa with his gift wrapping and generally tried to catch up on paperwork. By this time next week, all the Christmas furore will be over and we will be back from our first Christmas in a hotel. Now, we may see a couple of oenophiles there, who knows.

Matutinal

This WOTD means of, or relating to the early morning, so I suppose you would talk about your matutinal cup of tea (or coffee). It comes from the word Matuta, the Roman goddess of the dawn, but it seems primarily to relate to those organisms that are active in the early hours. Here is the aptly-named 'Morning Glory'

I would regard myself as matutinal; always at my best on waking, which is usually about 6am and full of energy until about 2pm, after which I visibly sag. At the weekends, I often have a sleep at this time, sometimes for a couple of hours, which enables me to be more lively in the evening, should it be called for. I am no slug-a-bed, regarding the 'lie-in' as a waste of the best part of the day. Surprisingly, on the odd occasions when I have slept late, I feel no benefit from it, often feeling more sluggish than if I had risen early. 
I was certainly awake early this morning, as I had to be sure of being ready to leave for work at 8.30. I had an enjoyable session, working as part of a great team. This afternoon, Evie & Max came over and decorated our Christmas tree for us, the signal that the preparations for the festive season can begin. Christmas cards that have been arriving for the past 2 weeks were opened and replaced Neil's birthday cards which have had their moment of glory. The Christmas rope light has decided to stop working, Neil will have to fix that tomorrow, the place wouldn't be the same without their eerie green glow.
Sad to hear from Julia that Abby looks like she has reached the end of her road. I shall miss that little kitty.
Neil is back home, so we had a Sunday roast dinner, except that we had sausages because we had some to use up.  I finished off the wine, music from Steven Wilson & Steve Hackett, early to bed, couldn't sleep, up to write blog and try to calm my cough

Antediluvian

Now, let's see if I am right..I think this WOTD literally means 'before the flood' and has come to mean very old. Now I shall look it up... HURRAH! I was right. Now of course, this means the great biblical flood, that alledgedly covered the whole world, but I guess there are some people in Cumbria at the moment who think that their whole world IS flooded. This is Carnforth railway station, the same Carnforth where Neil spent 2 glorious weeks of summer while I was living it up in Canada

 

I don't know whether flooding is a modern phenomenon, allied to global warming, but I certainly have never experienced this kind of attack by water. It seems to get in everywhere and ruin everything. I do have an extremely strong childhood memory (which is why it is one of the few remaining) relating to water. Our big old Victorian house at 4 Beulah Hill had no central heating (which is relevant), and probably plumbing that was quite elderly (which may not be). Very cold winter nights would cause the water in the pipes to freeze and burst the pipes, especially in the bathroom. The bathroom was situated above our music room.

Now I was usually the first person up in the mornings, and I would have to make my way upstairs and along the passage to the loo, passing said music room. Time and time again, I would hear the sound of water and open the door to see water pouring down the walls. I knew this was bad news. I don't remember what happened next, I suppose I woke a parent and it got sorted. Pipes were lagged in those days which I suppose is not necessary nowadays.

Today has been strange, as Neil has been in Folkestone, on standby for Kent Lifts while they have their work Xmas do. He is also invited to join in, unless he gets called to a breakdown. So I have been quietly getting on with some jobs here, and watching my favourite TV shows. I have eaten fruit and yogurt, chocolate & crisps. Not a very healthy dinner. Early to bed, as I am working in the morning. 

Fugacious

Fugacious. Not a word you hear bandied about, it means fleeting or transitory, like snow in Bexhill. The trouble is, it does not convey anything about its meaning in the word. I'm not talking onomatopoeia here - these are words that sound like the sound they're describing, 'thwack' 'cuckoo' or 'buzz' being common examples. I'm talking about a word that somehow conveys its meaning in the way that word sounds. I found a blog 'Fiction University' by Janice Hardy and she has this to say, giving the word 'frumpy' as an example: - 
'Frumpy sounds like what it is. You don't have to know its definition to get a good idea of its meaning. A quick trip to the thesaurus got me these other words that could have been used instead:  

badly dressed, baggy, blowsy, dingy, drab, dull, homely, old-fashioned, outdated, plain, poorly dressed, shabby, sloppy, stodgy, unfashionable, unkempt, unstylish 

None of them convey what frumpy does, because the sound of the word is so perfectly aligned with what it means.' 

 

Not Fugacious. Transitory has a nice fleeting sound to it, but fugacious has a dig-your-heels-in, I'm-here-for-keeps feel to it. This comes from the Latin fugere meaning 'to flee' so it's been the wrong word for ages. Maybe that's why no-one talks about the fugacious blossom in spring or my fugacious attempts to lose weight. 

 

Mind you, I didn't like the thesaurus string of words aligned to frumpy, as I feel all of those at the moment. Something must be done.

 

Busy day, achieved lots, took Evie to her gymnastics class, home to sausages, salad & JP, glass of wine. Music from Yes, Nad Sylvan & Genesis. Nice

Lexicographer

Now would I have wanted to be a lexicographer? A compiler of dictionaries? I am sure my regular readers will know I am a great wordsmith, loving words, meanings of words, spellings, anagrams and all such associated pleasures. But compiling a dictionary is a difficult job, and these days each new word is discussed by a committee before it is, at last, added.

It was Julia who told me about a village in Dorset called Ryme Intrinseca. Now  the name means the inner, or home, part of the Ryme manor as opposed to the outer parts, once called Ryme Extrinseca.

 

But if I lived there, and was part of the 115 strong members of this village, surely everyone would make sure that they had everything intrinsically rhyming, but Julia says it was a quite unremarkable village, with not a rhyme in sight. Maybe they just got fed-up with it, with everyone making the same jokes about the name of the village. 

Maybe it would be like that if I were a lexicographer. Maybe I would lose sight of the fun in words, and just get bogged down with the job of researching and getting it right. I think I will just stick to crosswords.

Mind you, I had a busy day today, and managed to get 3 letters written, as well as a whole load of other stuff. Fish & chips for dinner. Jacob came and fitted Neil's Podium turntable plinth to the wall, which makes a huge difference - wooden floors and heavy people are not a good combination for a turntable. Fitting it to the wall has isolated all that unnecessary vibration.

I can even dance now, and you know how much I like that!

Bombinate

I think I have heard this WOTD before, as it's what bees do - to buzz, or hum. Of course, it's not just bees that buzz and hum. Machinery does it all the time, even humans bombinate. I can always tell if Neil is contented, because he goes around the house humming tunes quietly. 

I rather like bees, and am quite pleased with my little bee tattoo, which is similar to the one below and I have had for about 20 years. It is just above my left breast, and although hidden for most of the time, I can (and do) show it to people if asked about it, without compromising my modesty.

 

Evie and Max were most surprised today to learn that I had a tattoo, and of course they wanted to see it. I have it because I am a Bea, and I like bees. I suppose my next one should be an elephant, but I couldn't do it in the correct ratio to the bee; it would have to be a miniature elephant.

I have had another lovely Monday, mostly doing Lift Man work and sorting out pile of papers. I fear they will never end. Max & Evie were rather over excited this evening; maybe it's the approaching Christmas holiday that is getting them rather wound up, but it was all good natured. 

Luxury fish cakes and salad, followed by fruit and yogurt. Very tasty dinner. Tomorrow is Neil's birthday and we are out for dinner, so may not be blogging at all. 

Gambol

This WOTD doesn't really suit me. Gambol means to skip about in play; to frolic. I always think that lambs 'gambol'; it is certainly not something that I would do, or indeed have ever done. My victorian-era father didn't really approve of physical activity for girls and we were never encouraged to have fun in this way. Fun was altogether more cerebral, which has affected me to this day. 
As a child,however,  I invented many dance routines, my favourite being the one to Tchaikovsky's Capriccio Italien, which you can find here. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIfHGjdF7qI )

This was 15 minutes of sublime music to dance to, and I thought I was in my own little world, no-one knew of my dancing efforts. But just recently, Julia commented that, if our parents had been more concerned with us as individuals, rather than the family as a whole, they would have enrolled me in dance classes, as I was 'dancing all the time' ! it has only taken me 60 years to discover that Julia was aware of my little dances. Here I am dancing with my cousin Jochen at my 60th birthday party.

But this doesn't really count as 'gambolling' and I have grown up without wishing to gambol at all. But I still love to dance, and even to modern music I will work out a step routine, not just jiggle on the spot. 

8 members of the Steadman family met today for lunch to celebrate Roy's (29th Nov), Liz's (3rd Dec) and Neil's (8th Dec) birthdays. I am still full, and having watched some TV about narrow-guage steam railways (very interesting), I shall head for bed. Happy birthday also to the lovely Hindy Kennedy.

Schmatte

The WOTD is Schmatte, meaning ' an old ragged garmet; a tattered article of clothing'. Now of course, I wouldn't know anything about that, as all my clothes are delightfully new. I only wish that were the case, but it made me think about items of clothing that I have loved so much, I wore them to pieces.
I remember a pair of stretch cord leggings that I wore in Greece. They weren't the most flattering garment but they were sooooo comfortable, I wore them until they disintegrated. Here they are, walking up through the fields back to our lodging. 

I have night clothes that are comfortable old favourites and I wait until they are full of holes and  Neil has to beg me to throw them out and buy new. 

I have had a great day today, getting all my admin work done early, seeing Jacob who finished tiling work, in fact the toilet is finished, just a few extra jobs in the bathroom. I will post before and after pictures for your enjoyment in a few days' time. Neil changed some light fittings round for me so I have the bright light where I need it. The house is tidy and Neil is making pizza for dinner (Neil's pizzas are the best in the world, believe me). 
We watched a new TV crime drama (Blindspot). Not too sure about it, so I will probably watch the next episode. It is most unusual for us to watch something together, I enjoyed that moment. 
Glass of wine, no music - catching up on emails and facebook. 
Now to get into my schmatte and dressing gown, ready for bed
 

Spoonerism

I really don't like missing days out of my 'daily' blog, but I couldn't figure out how to use propinquity, and was too tired yesterday for foudroyant. But the WOTD today is spoonerism one of my favourite language tricks, and one that I use a lot. A spoonerism is the transposition of the initial (or other) sounds in a pair of words, to make a different meaning, or sometimes just nonsense. The example given was to change 'a crushing blow' into 'a blushing crow'. 
Here, for example, is a picture of a skoo bligh over Midland Marina

I like the fact that I work, part-time,  as a rental deceptionist (that's quite apposite) and that today it has been roaring with pain. 

It has been a busy week and I have been bedevilled with a cold. This has left me with such a bad cough that I had to cancel my attendance at a 'scratch' Messiah tonight which is a shame, as I was looking forward to singing this choral classic. Worried for my sister's 18yr old cat Abby, who has been pawly all week. All fingers crossed.

Music from Anathema, and the Prog magazine sampler CD. Or this could all have been a lack of pies!

Winkle

Busy-ness, illness and away-from-home-nesss means that I have missed nocturne and bibliotaph, both of which I could have expounded upon at length. No more excuses, today's WOTD is very pertinent.
I think it was from Trevor at work that I first heard the term 'winkles' to refer to young children. It is only a small step from 'little wilkie' (my mother coined that expression to refer to the unborn Jacob) to little winkle/s and soon I was affectionately referring to Evie & Max as 'The Little Winkles' - maybe not to their faces, but certainly in other conversations. 
Today is a special day in many parts of the world as children excitedly venture to open door #1 on their advent calendar. What they find behind the door varies hugely from a simple, charming Christmas image, via the ubiquitous chocolate nibble, to gifts of varying magnificence depending on the indulgent nature and bank balance of the giver. Last year I exhausted all my artistic skills for the next decade in constructing a pyramid of 25 toilet roll inners, each one containing a pair of tiny gifts for Max & Evie. I covered the front in Xmas paper, wrote the numbers randomly thereon, stuck on some stars and hey-presto! 1 advent calendar! It didn't matter that the toilet-rolls could be see from the back, as it would be against a wall.

I gingerly carried it to the car, and got Neil to place it carefully on my lap while he drove us the 5 minute journey to hand over the calendar. Suddenly (I can't remember why) Neil had to brake rather abruptly, and all the little presents came flying out from the unprotected back of my pyramid!!. I had to try to remember where they had been, and carefully poke them back into their respective hidey-holes. 
My little winkles were none the wiser, and had a lot of fun poking a hole through the paper each day to discover the little gifts waiting for them.
This year it was left to Neil who, quite unprompted, bought chocolate-filled advent calendars for each of them, and delivered them personally this morning!