Salt and corrosion

A momentous day: my mother caught the bus for the first time ever. We sat in front of what she later described as 'a right pair of noodles', two loud, dim and not completely sober young men trying to work out if they were in the east, south or north of the City by the Sea. 'I think it's south,' declared one of them, in defiance of the sign on the bus that said it was east. 'I would not know,' said the other, enunciating each syllable. 'Dee-rec-shi-ons are not my area of ex-pert-ease.' Despite directions not being his area of expertise, he then announced with confidence that Allansford (a separate town to the east of the city) is situated in south Warrnambool.

This was after they had had an argument about which one of them was going to hold their bus tickets, on the grounds that neither of them likes having things in his pockets. 'I never wear shirts,' the first one said, while wearing a shirt. 'I don't like the tags.'

'Aw, MATE!' said the second. 'I always cut them tags off.'

'I only wear shirts at weddings,' continued the first one, still wearing a shirt, and then there was a pause before they said in unison, 'OR AT FUNERALS!' Then they guffawed heartily.

Sadly, we had to get off just after the second one announced that he didn't like going on the bus, because instead of taking him directly to where he wants to go, 'it keeps stopping for people'. Sorry, Noodle No. 2.

( This week's random word, complete with illustration: Oops )

Next week: Peregrine (adj.)

My random word entry is early this week. I know, the excitement of it.

3. Pears

I have meditated and searched the deep wells of my being, but I do not have any anecdotes about pears. I mean, I ate one the other day, but that's hardly going to get the conversation going, is it? Instead, I offer five things about pears:

1. Pear has not one, but two (TWO!) heterographic homophones, so you can pare a pair of pears.

2. 'Pyriform' is another word for 'pear-shaped'. I live in hope someone will say that on a British police drama. 'Did you nick that toerag?' Inspector Whoever will ask, and will be told, 'No, it all went pyriform.'

3. Pears don't float. When I fulfil my destiny and become a supervillain, my henchdaisies will be instructed to make my enemies 'bob for pears' instead of 'sleep with the fishes', in keeping with my rural setting.

4. Before tobacco was introduced, pear leaves were dried and smoked. I don't know for sure, but as a general tip, I'd say don't try that at home. On the other hand, looking on the internet for more information, I found that some people smoke coriander (cilantro). If that's the other option, stick with the pear leaves.

5. Pears are pomes. I have read the Wikipedia page on pomes a number of times and I still could not explain in my own words why they are different from any other sort of fruit other than 'well, they just are'. Clearly, I need a book called Pomes for Dummies. What I can glean from that page is that the part of the pear we eat is called the 'fruit cortex' and other pomes include apples (I knew that), cotoneasters (which is not pronounced cotton-easters, even though it looks like it should be), quinces, loquats, toyons (which I have never heard of) and our old friend the medlar (or mandle). The adjectival form of pome is pomaceous, which rhymes with bodacious, if you are stuck while writing an ode to pears. O pyriform fruit of type pomaceous/Like all the pomes, you are bodacious. Needs a bit of work.


Next week: Fadge.

I'm going to have look that up.

The other day someone on my f-list linked to a book on Amazon, which, when I clicked through, turned out to be a Sophie Kinsella novel. Yesterday, Amazon said customers with my browsing history of Sophie Kinsella novels also looked at a novel by a different chick lit author. This book was called Moonshine. Today, Amazon is telling me that customers with my browsing history of books called Moonshine are also interested in The Home Distiller's Workbook, The Secrets of Building an Alcohol Producing Still and The Alaskan Bootlegger's Bible. I have clicked on all of them to see what Amazon recommends next.

I am still listening to and enjoying Ancient Empires Before Alexander. The Sea Peoples are causing headaches to various empires. I realise the Sea Peoples were nomadic tribes outside the main groups, but every time I hear it, I imagine, like, mermaids attacking soldiers in chariots. Mermaids up the Tigris a thousand years BC. There's a concept for a novel if you're looking for inspiration. I'd read it.

A few weeks ago I decided to do that 100 things meme that's going about. I was going to do 100 random reviews, and I've had notes for the first review sitting here for three weeks, but my heart's not in it*. So I found myself a random word generator and I'll be doing a weekly entry on whatever topic it throws at me. Which brings me to:

1. Froth

When I was doing a photo a day last year, I spent quite a lot of time trying to get a good photo of the froth in the sink before I did the washing up. I don't think I ever did. The foam and glitter of the real thing didn't come out in my photos at all. Froth isn't all sweet and puffy and candy white, though. After heavy rains, the river mouth near my house is covered with a murky, coffee froth, which I think I could scoop up with a spoon and sip, maybe with a marshmallow. I have always resisted the temptation so far.

When I was little, I would confuse words like froth and trough when speaking. On washdays my family gained much hilarity by making me look at the washing machine and talk about the froff in the troth. Froff in the troth, I would say, and they would cackle at me every week. You've got to make your own fun in the country.

Next week: Tea bags



* But, in essence, Melbourne's Colonial Tramcar Restaurant: 3 daisies out of 5, or 4 if you really like trams.