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Word Of The Day

Thanks for the info, Ronson.

I've passed it on to Michael Quinion, the WWW newsletter editor, for comment. He has good contacts with the OED and other wordsmiths and databases, so I'll let him dig deeper if he wishes!
 
Ronson8 said:
http://uk.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20081219100614AABCea1
I can assure you that skiving is still used in the leather trade today.
etc...
I responded: "Thanks for the info, Ronson.

I've passed it on to Michael Quinion, the WWW newsletter editor, for comment. He has good contacts with the OED and other wordsmiths and databases, so I'll let him dig deeper if he wishes!"


His reply follows the line I rather expected:
This is correct, of course - "skiver" is widely recorded in that sense.
But there's no known connection between the two words, nor can I find a
serious suggestion that skiving in this context was especially easy. I am
sure that it's a classic case of folk etymology, in which two words of
separate origin have been assumed to be the same and a story created to
connect them.
I suppose that parallel evolution in biology is similar. Creatures from completely different lineages can come to resemble each other, especially when they share the same environment. Thus whales and dolphins were at one time frequently referred to as 'fishes' because they all lived in the sea. It was a story that seemed to make sense.

Likewise, similar words are commonly thought to be connected, even though they may actually have been derived from words in different languages. But just as the human eye tends to see faces in random groups of objects like clouds or leaves, so the human brain will concoct a story to connect similar words. (And there are many examples of this happening.)
 
To celebrate the BritishTour de France victory, a French word:

"L’Equipe, the French sports newspaper, had already christened him as “Wiggo le Froggy”, naturally taking a bit of credit for his victory by noting how he had cut his teeth in professional road cycling over here. They were also particularly admiring of his marvellous rouflaquettes — “The most famous sideburns since Elvis Presley”.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/others ... mpics.html

:D

Magnifique! Try to use Rouflaquettes as many times as possible today! ;)
 
A query to World Wide Words newsletter brought an unexpected and interesting reply:

Q From Isabel Henniger: What is the history behind the expression up the spout? For example in my mother’s autobiography she wrote that when her thesis advisor lost her thesis in 1930, her hopes for a university position went up the spout.

A Up the spout, gone wrong, ruined, failed or lost, is a slang expression from the British Isles of considerable age, being first recorded early in the nineteenth century. It’s still common:

When your economic sovereignty is up the spout, the smallest negative comment from a foreign leader can create panic among investors and send consumer confidence through the floor.
The Evening Herald (Dublin), 22 Oct. 2012
.

To find its origin we must in imagination travel to the low-life world of pre-Dickensian England. Pawnbrokers commonly stored goods that were in hock on an upper floor of their premises, but this required a method by which such items could be moved from their shop counters to storage and back again. This is the way such a device was described in a famous work of in the nineteenth century:

[The chute] reaches from the top of the house of the Pawnbroker (where the goods are deposited for safety till redeemed or sold) to the shop, where they are first received; through which a small bag is dropped upon the ringing of a bell, which conveys the tickets or duplicates to a person above stairs, who, upon finding them, (unless too bulky) saves himself the trouble and loss of time of coming down stairs, by more readily conveying them down.
Real Life in London, by Pierce Egan, 1821
.

It was the shape and function of this device, in later years nearer in form to the kitchen lift or dumbwaiter, that caused it to become known to customers and pawnbrokers as the spout. The action of pawning goods was spouting them.

Behold him walking into a pawnbroker’s shop with half-a-dozen pieces of figured waistcoatings on his arm, and a tailor’s thimble on his finger. “Here,” says he, “I’ve got six waistcoats to make, and I must spout one to buy the trimmings; let’s have three shillings.”
Curiosities of London Life, or Phases, Physiological and Social, of the Great Metropolis, by Charles Manby Smith, 1853
.

Something that had been pawned was said to have gone up the spout. It was so common for the item not to be redeemed because the owner hadn’t the money to do so that to put something up the spout implied a likely permanent loss.

http://www.worldwidewords.org/nl/qqub.htm
 
Enough words here to keep you going for several days!

The trench talk that is now entrenched in the English language
From cushy to crummy and blind spot to binge drink, a new study reveals the impact the First World War had on the English language and the words it introduced.
By Jasper Copping
8:20AM GMT 25 Nov 2012

If you’re feeling washed out, fed up or downright lousy, World War One is to blame.
New research has shown how the conflict meant that hundreds of words and phrases came into common parlance thanks to the trenches.
Among the list of everyday terms found to have originated or spread from the conflict are cushy, snapshot, bloke, wash out, conk out, blind spot, binge drink and pushing up daisies.

The research has been conducted by Peter Doyle, a military historian, and Julian Walker, an etymologist, who have analysed thousands of documents from the period — including letters from the front, trench newspapers, diaries, books and official military records - to trace how language changed during the four years of the war.

They found that the war brought military slang into the mainstream, imported French and even German words to English and saw words from local dialects become part of national conversation.
Mr Walker, who works at the British Library, said: “The war was a melting plot of classes and nationalities, with people thrown together under conditions of stress.
It was a very creative time for language. Soldiers have always had a genius for slang and coming up with terms.
“This was a citizen army - and also the first really literate army - and at the end of the war, those that survived took their new terms back to the general population
.”

The results of the research are included in a new book, Trench Talk: Words of the First World War, which documents how new words and phrases originated, while others were spread from an earlier, narrow context, to gain new, wider meanings.
Many of the words were created by soldiers to describe their unfamiliar surroundings and circumstances. While they had to come up with names for new items like “trench coats” and “duckboards”, other, more descriptive phrases were also developed.

“Lousy” and “crummy” both referred to being infested with lice, while “fed up” emerged as a widespread expression of weariness among the men.
Communiqués from headquarters were derisively known as “bumf” — from “b--fodder”, a term for toilet paper. ;)

Such reports could often give rise to “guff” (rumours), although this was not to be confused with “gaffs”, the term for makeshift theatres built behind the lines to entertain the troops.

Other phrases to develop were “snapshot” (from a quickly aimed and taken rifle shot), and “wash out”, which described a process by which aspiring officers who failed their commissions and were sent back to their regiments, or “washed out”. By 1915 the term was being used to signify any kind of failure.
“Dud” also came to take on a wider meaning for something which failed, from the large number of faulty shells which did not explode.

Parcels from home would be “whacked out” or “whacked round” by the recipients, so they were shared among friends - each getting “a fair whack”.

The brutality of life at the front also gave rise to many euphemisms, to describe death and fear.
Comrades who were killed were said to be “pushing up daisies”, or to have “gone west” “snuffed it”, “been skittled” or “become a landowner”. Those who were afraid were said to have “got the wind up”.

Many terms which were particular to one region or social class before the war, entered common usage afterwards.
Examples include “scrounging” - to describe foraging for food, such as wild rabbits - which is thought to have derived from a northern dialect, and “binge” - to describe overindulgence in alcohol - previously just used in Lancashire. “Blotto” was another term for drunk popularised during the war.

Lower class words like “gasper” or “fag” and “bloke” - which previously referred just to a gentleman - moved from their narrow social roots.
Several phrases from the criminal underworld also entered wider use, among them “chum” - formerly slang for an accomplice - “rumbled” (to be found out) and “knocked off” (stolen).

Many more new terms came from the mix of nationalities thrown together by the war.
The French term souvenir replaced keepsake as the primary word for a memento, following exchanges with the locals, while officers being sacked were said to have “come ungummed” - from the French “dégommér”, to dismiss. This quickly developed into “come unstuck”.

Other words arrived with troops from the US - such as “cooler”, for prison - and Canada - including “swipe”, for acquiring something by means that were not necessarily above board.

Not all the new terms emerged on the Western Front.
Troops serving in the Middle Eastern campaign were introduced to local terms, including “bint”, from the Arabic for daughter. To “go binting” meant to go on leave to Cairo to look for women.

Several Hindi terms, picked up from Indian Army soldiers and already circulating in the regular, professional army, were also disseminated widely.
One of those most used at the front was “cushy” — from khush ('pleasure’).
Soldiers would describe cushy, or comfortable billets, as well as cushy trenches, in quiet sectors.

The most well known term derived from Hindi though was “Blighty”, from bilati, meaning “foreign”, which, when applied by Indians to Britons, came to be perceived by Indian Army servicemen as the term “British”.

Words even entered the lexicon from the trenches opposite. “Strafe” became an English word, from the German “to punish”, via a prominent slogan used by the enemy: “Gott Strafe England”, while prisoners of war returned with term “erzatz”, literally “replacement”, but used in English to mean “cheap substitute” and spelled ersatz.

Advances in technology also brought with them new phrases. Aircraft were known to “conk out”, while pilots also complained of “blind spots” where they were unable to see.

Many of the technical devices encountered by soldiers could be quite baffling and hard to describe, which helps to explain the widespread emergence of the word “thingumyjig” from the period.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstop ... guage.html
 
And even more words here!

Book of the Week - The Horologicon - Episode 1

The Etymologicon was last year's surprise runaway bestseller. The author has now assembled The Horologicon, or book of hours, to delight his audience with a feast of words appropriate to a precise moment of the day.

Did you wake up feeling rough? Then you're philogrobolized probably at day peep when you were roused by your expergefactor. 8)

Written by Mark Forsyth Read by Hugh Dennis
Abridged and produced by Jane Marshall

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b0 ... Episode_1/

Available until
10:02AM Mon, 10 Dec 2012
 
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/footba ... senal.html

Wenger is sure his approach will again deliver, predicting that “we will turn it around before the end of the season” and arguing that he should be judged in May. On his own position, he even appeared to invent a new adjective. “I’ve answered that – let’s not get parrotic.” :D
 
ACROTERION!

Newlyn master craftsmen ensure Cornish engineering looks down on Eton education
By CMScott | Posted: December 02, 2014

One of the largest pieces of ornate hand-beaten copper ever made in Britain will – as you read this – be taking its place as centrepiece of a new lecture theatre in a major £19million development at the exclusive Eton College.

The development at the elite school that taught David Cameron and many other of society’s biggest names will be crowned by the elaborate feature – known as an acroterion.
The quarter ton roof ornament, which has taken eight months to make, will sit atop a gable outside the 300-seat hall at the prestigious £34,000-per-year school.
For those of us who have no chance of ever reaching such dizzy heights, it will be pleasing to know that the crowning glory of the new Eton will be stamped Made In Cornwall.

The elaborate feature, known as an acroterion, has been made by Michael Johnson and Shelley Anderson at Newlyn Copper Works and is said to be the most complex example of copperwork made 'in a generation'.
The pair now have the challenging task of installing the six feet wide sculpture outside the school's new lecture hall.

Mr Johnson said: “It is no exaggeration to say that this is one of the most complex and intricate pieces of hand-crafted architectural copper-work made in this country in a generation.”
Michael and Shelley were commissioned to make the roof decoration by architects Bekynton Field who are working on Eton's new quadrangle, or “quad”, development.

The £19m project - overseen by architect John Simpson, designer of the Queen's Gallery at Buckingham Palace - includes 40 new classrooms for modern languages, economics and politics, as well as the lecture theatre and exhibition space.
It is the latest addition to the sprawling site in Windsor, Berkshire, known for the Gothic-style college chapel that was part of the original design when it was founded in 1441.

So it is nice there will be a (not so) little piece of Cornish engineering there, too, after Newlyn Copper Works were commissioned by Simpsons.
Michael Johnson said: “They had searched the whole of the UK to find someone capable of producing something like this – and they initially drew a blank and went to France.
“The sort of thing we have made for Eton stopped happening in Britain after the Second World War. Intricate hand-crafted copper-work doesn’t really get done in this country any more... well it didn’t until we started on the acroterion.”

The duo have had to think about how the huge piece wouldexpand and contract in the heat and also drain properly, and how to fix it to the roof.
Michael said: 'With something as complex as this you have to design it with close consideration to how it will function. And all the planning has to be done before a single hammer is swung.”

Acroterions are a hallmark of Britain's grandest buildings and can include discs, tripods and ornate Gothic statues. The names comes from the Greek words for extremity and endmost.

Although the pair would not say how much they are being paid, they told The Western Morning News a project like this would cost between £50,000 and £70,000 to commission.

Read more: http://www.cornishman.co.uk/Newlyn-mast ... z3KupF6026



Proper Job!
 
rynner2 said:
Michael Johnson said: “They had searched the whole of the UK to find someone capable of producing something like this – and they initially drew a blank and went to France.
“The sort of thing we have made for Eton stopped happening in Britain after the Second World War. Intricate hand-crafted copper-work doesn’t really get done in this country any more... well it didn’t until we started on the acroterion.”

Yes, not many people do repousse work in this country any more.
Funnily enough, I am gradually acquiring the tools and skills to do this kind of work.
 
Mythopoeika said:
rynner2 said:
Michael Johnson said: “They had searched the whole of the UK to find someone capable of producing something like this – and they initially drew a blank and went to France.
“The sort of thing we have made for Eton stopped happening in Britain after the Second World War. Intricate hand-crafted copper-work doesn’t really get done in this country any more... well it didn’t until we started on the acroterion.”
Yes, not many people do repousse work in this country any more.
Funnily enough, I am gradually acquiring the tools and skills to do this kind of work.
Well, I'm sure Fortean Towers could do with an acroterion - it might compensate for the dodgy website!
 
From WorldWide Words:

Vellichor

Amogh Simha alerted me to this word, which has been widely mentioned on social media in the past year but which is unknown to the non-digital world. All the references to it quote the same definition, which suggests that they all derive from a common source.
This appears to be John Koenig’s wonderfully named site The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. It was picked up by Twitter subscribers in August 2013 and has been making the rounds ever since. It has caught people’s attention online in a way that coined words rarely do.

John Koenig wrote of his creation that it meant:
the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time — filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.

Few words in English end in -chor, easily the most common being anchor. It and two others come from unconnected roots: the obsolete vouchor, which the Oxford English Dictionary tells us is a person “who calls another into court to warrant a title” and the chemical term parachor. Two more are the linked ichor and petrichor . The former is the stuff that was said to flow in the veins of the Greek gods in place of blood; the latter is the distinctive and pleasant smell that can accompany rain falling on ground baked dry.
This last evocative word (created only in 1964 from ichor with a prefix from Greek petros, stone) must surely be the inspiration for vellichor, with the first part replaced with vellum. For lovers of books, there is nothing more distinctive and melancholy than the sight and smell of old books, redolent of dust and decayed hopes.
Vellichor deserves to be more widely known. :cool:
 
Euhemerism - interpreting myths as originally recounting real tales.

By this account the Jesus story is euhemerization
 
I've used at least 2 of the words on there in ordinary conversation.
I could easily top that, but, it would depend always upon context and recipients.

It's all a dying British polyglot, though. Teens and Twens have (to a close approximation) absolutely no interest or currency in this style of speech.

Ebonics an' street trumps Yarkshir 'n Scots evrry time. Bangin', innit? Bro' get witcha code!

It's bad (and I do mean in an original/traditional way).
 
How about this, Floccinaucinihilipilification.

Yep, thats right - you try and pronounce that one. When you do manage it you`ll realise it is indeed worthless and of no value, just like the words meaning.
 
Frey-Bentos a word(s) that makes no sense when you see what it refers to - crap pies. :D
 
Fray Bentos is a town in Uruguay where the pies were I believe originally made.
 
I take your word for it - don't think I've ever had one. I'm sure I've had some of their corned beef though.
 
I take your word for it - don't think I've ever had one. I'm sure I've had some of their corned beef though.

They do look enticing and smell nice when cooked. But the flavours are all wrong which make your meal a very confused and un-enjoyable one.
 
I once heard on a sitcom one of the charries saying (They were in Spain, talking about bullfights) that the matadors were hit men for Fray Bentos
 
Good line. Sounds like 'Only Fools...' to me...

edit: Oh. It wasn't.
 
I quite like a corned beef hash. You need plenty of hash to mask the taste of the corned beef though.
 
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