Danish or Swedish?Hamemakkt doesn't sound scottish to me, it sounds quite germanic.
Yes, that's nearly spot-on, but, the more-contemporary 'hamemakkt' (cf hamet) does also include an inference of misty-eyed emotional nostalgia. The original version is much closer to 'heimgemacht'Basically it sounds like a combination of heim/hjem/hem for home and gemacht/mager for made. I don't think any of the germanic languages would use that phrasing but the words are definitely there.
...surely this is almost identical in emotional meaning, then, to gemutlichkeit?uair01 said:gezelligheid
Also, nearly all buskers seem to be using amplifiers nowadays, or at least the ones in Norwich are. There's a chap who plays classical pieces on a semi-acoustic guitar who's actually pretty good - probably a music student - but the rest of them aren't much to my taste. There's a really annoying skiffle band who seem to think they're 'wacky' and are about as loud as The Who.Why aren't ambient sounds enough, especially in the spring, when there are birds and breeze and people-watching sounds? Why do all cafes pipe in nasty pop. Why are buskers legal?
It's even better if you hear someone go running past in the rain getting soaked.Yeah, I've also only met a few people who've talked about the comforting feeling of listening to a storm and being inside ... I'm one of them and so is the missus.
It's even better if you hear someone go running past in the rain getting soaked.
pâro
n. the feeling that no matter what you do is always somehow wrong—that any attempt to make your way comfortably through the world will only end up crossing some invisible taboo—as if there’s some obvious way forward that everybody else can see but you, each of them leaning back in their chair and calling out helpfully, colder, colder, colder.
Also, nearly all buskers seem to be using amplifiers nowadays, or at least the ones in Norwich are. There's a chap who plays classical pieces on a semi-acoustic guitar who's actually pretty good - probably a music student - but the rest of them aren't much to my taste. There's a really annoying skiffle band who seem to think they're 'wacky' and are about as loud as The Who.
More like malicious gleeI think what your old boss experienced is more like schadenfreude.
More like malicious glee
That's the bit I like.(In case any of the foregoing makes me sound like a Right Miserable Old Git, then let me add that I also like: the laughter of little children, puppy dogs, boxes of chocolates, and clowns - well, maybe not clowns...).
That was a brave and refreshing post by Xanatic above (#18) , concerning having doubts about the existence of romantic love.
I too have not experienced it. Truckloads of lust, yes, and sometimes, more rarely, a curious kind of tenderness, and, even more rarely an admixture of both. The romantic love as referred to, not just in pop songs, but in the great plays and novels of the world, however,- never. (Perhaps we need words for the `not-feeling` of a supposed common emotions, rather than new words for supposedly new feelings....).
But, I have some of my own to add too. The O.P mentioned `Kenopsia`: the eerie sadness of abandoned places. Well, I believe a sort of reverse version of this feeling also exists. Many years ago I used to work as a `floating` security guard This meant that I was posted to different kinds of workplaces - factories and offices etc - to guard them overnight. I would turn up roughly as the workforce were leaving. This meant that I would experience the mass vacation of areas normally full of people.
Let me tell you that there was something quite pleasant about seeing people go off into the twilight, and then being in an empty building alone. Something rather sweet, but beyond easy explanation.
Perhaps a bit like this is another feeling that lacks a label: the enjoyment of being alone in a crowd. One of my hobbies, if you like, is to go into a bar on my own and slowly sip a beer while basking in the chatter around me. There's something about being with people, but not being a part of them, that is really quite enjoyable.
It only works, though, if I'm not required to interact with anybody. Should some kind-hearted guy come and strike up conversation with me, then the whole effect is ruined - then I have to make my excuses and find another bar....
(In case any of the foregoing makes me sound like a Right Miserable Old Git, then let me add that I also like: the laughter of little children, puppy dogs, boxes of chocolates, and clowns - well, maybe not clowns...).
I've no idea if these are genuine words, but you'll all recognise the feelings...
The source is given as the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig. ...