Category: Grammar & Linguistics

Chinese hospitality

I am assured this hotel brochure is not a spoof:

“Getting There:
Our representative will make you wait at the airport. The bus to the hotel
runs along the lake shore. Soon you will feel pleasure in passing water. You
will know that you are getting near the hotel, because you will go round the
bend. The manager will await you in the entrance hall. He always tries to
have intercourse with all new guests.

The hotel:
This is a family hotel, so children are very welcome. We of course are
always pleased to accept adultery. Highly skilled nurses are available in
the evenings to put down your children. Guests are invited to conjugate in
the bar and expose themselves to others. But please note that ladies are not
allowed to have babies in the bar. We organize social games, so no guest is
ever left alone to play with them self.

Continue reading “Chinese hospitality”

March Fantasticks

“Where’s the Fantasticks for March?”   I’ve been away but here it is, it’s all right.

Fantasticks is the weird collection of gnomic observation by Nicholas Breton (1554-1626). They are not in print.

Anyway, in March, Breton seems more dream-laden and careless than ever.

MARCH

It is now March, and the Northerne wind dryeth up the Southerne durt: The tender Lippes are now maskt for feare of chapping, and the faire hands must not be ungloved: now riseth the Sunne a pretty step to his faire height, and Saint Valentine calls the birds together, where Nature is pleased in the varietie of love: the Fishes and the Frogs fall to their manner of generation, and the Adder dyes to bring forth her young: the Ayre is is sharpe, but the Sunne is comfortable, and the hay beginnes to lengthen: The forward Gardens give the fine Sallets, and a Nosegay of Violets is a present for a Lady: Now beginneth Nature (as it were) to wake out of her sleepe, and sends the Traveller to survey the walkes of the World: the sucking Rabbit is good for weake stomackes, and the dyet for the Rhume doth many a great Cure: The Farrier now is the horses Physitian, and the fat Dog feeds the Faulcon in the Mew: the Tree begins to bud, and the grasse to peepe abroad, while the Thrush with the Black-bird make a charme in the young Springs: the Milke-mayd with her best beloved, walke away wearinesse to the Market, and in an honest meaning, kind words doe no hurt: the Foot-ball now tryeth the legges of strength, and merry matches continue good fellowship: It is time of much worke, and tedious to discourse of: but in all I find of it, I thus conclude in it: I hold it the Servant of Nature, and the Schole-master of Art: the hope of labour, and the Subject of Reason.

Farewell.

Fantasticks- February

I have been transcribing the strange calendar from the book Fantasticks, by Nicholas Breton (1554-1626). It is out of print, and a modest readership has been following each episode. So here is February.

 FEBRUARY

It is now February, & the Sun is gotten up a Cocke-stride of his climbing, the Valleyes now are painted white, and the brookes are full of water: the Frog goes to seeke out the Paddocke, and the Crow and the Rooke begin to mislike their old Makes: forward Connies begin now to kindle, & the fat grounds are not without Lambes; the Gardiner fals to sorting of his seeds, and the Husbandman falls afresh to scowring of his Ploughshare: the Terme travellers make the Shooe-makers Harvest, and the Chaundlers cheese makes the chalke walke apace: The Fishmonger sorts his ware against Lent: and a Lamb-skinne is good for a lame arme: the waters now alter the nature of their softnes and the soft earth is made stony hard: The Ayre is sharp and piercing, and the winds blow cold: the Tavernes and the Innes seldome lack Guests, & the Ostler knows how to gaine by his Hay: the hunting Horse is at the heeles of the Hound, while the ambling Nagge carrieth the Physitian and his footcloth: the blood of Youth begins to spring, and the honour of Art is gotten by Exercise: The trees a little begin to bud, and the sap begins to rise up out of the root: Physic now hath work among weak bodies, and the Apothecaries drugges are very gainfull: There is hope of a better time not farre off, but this in it selfe is little comforte: and for the small pleasure that I find in it, I will this briefly conclude of it: It is the poor mans pick-purse, and the misers cut-throat, the enemy of pleasure, and the time of patience.

Farewell.

Notes

The “makes”, which the crow and rook grow tired of, are mates; but the word here is not a mistake for “mate”. It comes from an Old English word related to “match”.

I am told that the bit about the Chaundlers (Chandlers?) cheese making the chalke walke apace refers to the account of money owing being chalked up on the “Slate”.  The Slate was in common use in my youth at my grandfather’s bakery – some entries never got fully erased.

Fantasticks – January

As befits the New Year, here is January from Fantasticks, the strange calendar by Nicholas Breton (1554-1626).  I have been altruistically copying out months, as you may see from past postings.

JANUARY

It is now January, and Time beginnes to turne the wheel of his Revolution, the Woods begin to lose the beauty of their spreading boughe, and the proud Oke must stoop to the Axe: the Squirell now surveyeth the Nut and the Maple, and the Hedgehogge rowles up himselfe like a football: an Apple and a Nutmeg make a Gossips cup: and the Ale and the Fagot are the Victuallers merchandise: the Northerne black Dust is the during Fuell, and the fruit of the Grape heats the stomake of the Aged: Downe beds and quilted Cappes are now the pride of their service, and the Cooke and the Pantler are men of no meane office: the Oxe and the fat Weather now furnish the market, and the Coney is so ferreted, that she cannot keepe in her borough: the Currier and the Lime-rod are the death of the fowle, and the Faulcons bels ring the death of the mallard: the trotting gelding makes a way through the mire, and the Hare and the Hound put the Huntsman to his horne: the barren Doe subscribes to the dish, and the smallest seed makes sauce to the greatest flesh: the dryed grasse is the horses ordinary, and the meale of the beanes make him goe through with his travel: Fishermen now have a cold trade, and travellers a foule journey: the Cook room now is not the worst place in the Ship, and the Shepheard hath a bleake seat on the Mountaine: the Blackbird leaveth not the berry on the thorne, and the garden earth is turned up for her roots: the water floods runne over the proud bankes, and the gaping Oister leaves his shell in the streets, while the proud Peacocke leaps into the pye: Muscovia commodities are now much in request, and the water Spaniell is a necessary servant: the Lode horse to the mill hath his full backe burthen; and the Thresher in the barne tyres the strength of his flayle: the Woodcocke and the Pheasant pay their lives for their feed, and the Hare after a course makes his hearse in a pye: the shoulder of a hog is a shooing horn to good drink, and cold almes make a begger shrug. To conclude, I hold it a time of little comfort, the rich mans charge, and the poor mans misery.

Farewell.

The Coney “cannot keepe in her borough”  – wonderful spelling

Christmas Day

Well it is either a few days early or four hundred years too late, anyway here is my old friend Nicholas Breton on Christmas.

Christmas Day
by Nicholas Breton
(c1554-1626)

It is now Christmas and not a Cup of drinke must passe without a carol, the Beastes, Fowle and Fish, come to a general execution, and the Corne is ground to dust for the Bakehouse, and the Pastry:  Cards and Dice purge many a purse, and the youth shew their agility in shooing of the wild Mare: now good cheere and welcome, and God be with you, and I thanke you and against the new yeare, provide for the presents: the Lord of Mis-rule is no meane man for his time, and the ghests of the high Table must lack no wine: the lusty bloods must look about them like men, and piping and dancing puts away much melancholy: stolne Venison is sweet, and a fat Coney is worth money: Pit-falles are now set for small Birdes, and a Woodcocke hangs himself in a gynne: a good fire heats all the house, and a full Almes-basket makes the beggars Prayers:  the Maskers and the Mummers make the merry sport: but if they lose their money, their Drumme goes dead: Swearers and Swaggerers are sent away to the Ale-house, and vnruly wenches goe in danger of judgement: Musicians now make their instruments speake out, and a good song is worth the hearing.  In summe,  it is a holy  time a duty in Christians, for the remembrance of Christ, and custome among friends, for the maintenance of good fellowship:  In briefe, I thus conclude of it.  I hold it a memory of the Heavens love, and the worlds peace, the myrth of the honest, and the meeting of the friendly.

Farewell.

Continue reading “Christmas Day”

Fantasticks – December

That strange book Fantasticks, by Nicholas Breton (1554-1626) is something of a favorite.  Not many people know about it, but those who do seem to like the archaic language and ritual cadence of it.

It is out of print, so since October I’ve been copying bits out, beginning with the section on the months, this is the third.  There are a few chapters on special days, Christmas, Easter etc. so there may be a bonus post a bit later this month.

But for now here is December.

Continue reading “Fantasticks – December”

In defence of tree huggers with attitude!

“I’m a fuzzy-headed warm-hearted liberal, and I think fuzzy-headed warm-hearted liberalism is an ideological stance that needs defending—if necessary, with a hob-nailed boot-kick to the bollocks of budding totalitarianism.” (Charles Stross)

Yeah, right on, and if you disagree with this, I reserve the right to tell you, with all due respect, to go boil your head.

Dogs are for life, and just because we are in a recession, or they don’t match the furniture, they should not be abandoned.

One article here about stupid owners. I’m sure one could find many more.

Part I of a series about Linguistic Register.

Indian love call

‘When I’m calling you, oo-oo-ooo, oo-oo-oo…..,’ with an attractive sub-continental accent. ‘ Good morning. You owe my company 500 bucks. So pay up very quickly before we doorstep you. Thank you very much.’

Now I’m pleased to report that these distant, unsolicited callers haven’t yet discovered the wilds of Vikingland – perhaps owing to their concentration on English-speaking victims – but a word to the wise – you might get a call yourself before long.

Witness the Times of India: http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/us/Indian-call-centres-used-for-5m-debt-collection-scam/articleshow/11999098.cms