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It’s always an exciting moment when a frog takes up residence in your pond, especially when it’s the first and only frog that’s appeared there in over eight years. It raises questions, though, such as ‘Where have you come from?’ and ‘How did you get here?’
Do you ever look at pictures of 14th century knights in their chainmail and think, “Blimey! That looks uncomfortable”? No? Well, pretend you do.
Do you talk to yourself? Apparently it’s perfectly normal and can serve a number of purposes. It helps us to organise our thoughts, motivate ourselves, process negative emotions and overcome loneliness.
But do you ever talk to yourself in funny voices and make up strange sounds and languages? And do you say things you’d rather nobody else ever heard? Hmm, not so easy to admit, is it? Apparently that’s a sign of mental illness, though not always. Anyway, here’s a warning for you.
I’ve been trying to be efficient this week. You know, tackle things straight away, before they start to become a burden. This morning, for example, I woke up all excited and keen to write Word of the Week because I had my word all ready to go: Vertigo.
It’s that time of year when things rush up on you. “What, unlike the rest of the year?” I hear you ask somewhat sarcastically. OK, things are always rushing up on you, but at this time of year it’s particularly acute.
Did you do Wordle today? What about Quordle? Heardle? Worldle? Waffle? My current favourite is Turdle, where they show you a silhouette of an animal dropping and you have five goes to guess what creature it belongs to. It’s both educational and emotionally rewarding. (more…)
Following last week’s tribute to the late Andy Rourke of The Smiths, there’s an argument that this week’s word should be Turner, or maybe Tina. But I have to admit I’ve been preoccupied by my efforts to become energy self-sufficient. Dynamo though Tina was, and probably well capable of powering the average family home just with that voice, I’ve been looking at more mainstream options.
This week’s word is dedicated to Andy Rourke, craftsman of the bass guitar, who died today at the terribly premature age of 59. Rourke was a member of The Smiths, probably the most Marmite of all bands ever. I don’t like Marmite but I loved The Smiths. (more…)
I want you to begin the next five minutes by saying to yourself, “I am a loyal and enthusiastic follower of Word of the Week and I will read this article with great interest and delight.” See if it works. (more…)
Despite an overwhelming one per cent of you responding to say I should buy the Suzuki Bandit, I didn’t. Something told me it was a bad idea. I think it might have been the half per cent who asked what I’d like them to say at my funeral. Therein lies an object lesson in statistics: the majority is not always right. (more…)
