Gloom and disaster are more rewarding to write about than happiness and triumph. Good things sound like boasting, typical events in a gilded life. Whereas most daily happenings are emotionally neutral: getting up, squeezing the toothpaste tube, smearing Lurpak on the lunchtime toast.But what about funny things? Often they involve embarrassment so you can't be said to be boasting. I thought I'd give it a go.
Do you know what? My life's been devoid of funny things. I've trawled for minutes and caught nothing. But what about...? Ah yes.
Aged about eight I was dining with my grandparents. Grannie asked Grandpa if he wanted more... I've forgotten. Let's say, potatoes. Grandpa said (I hear him clearly): "Not at this juncture." I'd never heard that word before. I collapsed with laughter and giggled my way through the rest of the meal. Grandpa, normally stern and impatient, looked on benignly.
Even now, a tiny giggle lurks at the back of my throat. The word itself is distorted: "Joont-shuh." If I'd had two or three reds and was feeling relaxed (Alas, it's 7.50 in the morning.) I reckon I'd be vulnerable to a swift snigger. Can funniness endure for more than seventy years? Seems so.
A year or two later Mother, speaking to Father, mentions the elderly Rev. X. Father, in no sense a religious man, says "I thought he'd been translated into glory." Overhearing, I laugh out loud, trying to imagine what this process would look like.
No prat-falls, no spaghetti sauce spilt down the wedding gown. Both these echoes are word fun. My destiny was already concrete. And is that boasting?
I envy you having more memories of the time when I was too young (or poorly) to remember, I presume that was Grandpa S?
ReplyDeleteI remember him making a toy steam-roller out of old tobacco tins or something similar - it looked quite impressive to me as a youngster, but suspect now it was a bit crude. We were aloud to touch but not play with. It occurred to me that I must have inherited some genes from him, fortunately, I hope, not the more undesirable ones, having my own enthusiasm for building models and boats etc. over the years.
Ha! Your normally stern and impatient grandfather must have felt a certain satisfaction in entertaining you with language, however inadvertently.
ReplyDeleteWhat ghastly thing is LURPAK? Second cousin to Marmite? Sounds absolutely dreadful, going by the name.
ReplyDeleteSo you were already laughing at elevation (of several sorts.) Interesting.
Sir Hugh: Sorry for the delay, I was in Dusseldorf and then in Montreuil. Grandpa S had a shed with a work bench, a vice and a selection of tools. If anyone inherited his wood creativity it would have been you not me.
ReplyDeleteMikeM: Last week I was in Dusseldorf (Ger.) then in Montreuil (Fr.). I was rarely a satisfaction to my grim grandparent. He made me (aged 6 or 7) a bow and arrow and then cuffed my ear when I failed to handle the bow properly. Kept a malacca cane (hard yet flexible) on the picture-rail for more formal punishments.
Marly: Last week I was in Dusseldorf (Ger.) then in Montreuil (Fr.). Your response to the name Lurpak was exactly the same as mine when I first encountered it. It's not often you meet such a remarkable example of "tin ear" in marketing. But then the manufacturer is Danish, has been going for over a century and sells its products 75 countries. In fact it is spreadable butter which can be kept in the fridge and then applied to bread without tearing the slice into shreds.
I realise the anecdote about word forms was somewhat self-serving. The inevitable result of education via auto-didacticism. Others may wave a scroll and toss a mortar-board hat in the air to the same end.