26 Letters

  O is for: Ossify, Ostentatious, and Offler. The letter O, one of our precious vowels, could – with some justification - be held up as being a well-rounded letter. But that would be feeble joke, most undeserving of both you and the letter itself. But without the letter O, nobody would be born in October. Instead, it would Ctber, which is a miserable collection of letters, totally unpronounceable unless you’re Polish or Bosnian. It certainly wouldn’t be Ostentatious. There is, I think, both bloody awful and quite good Ostentatiousness. Eiffel’s tower, for instance, was described as ostentatious, and worthy of being torn down immediately after the 1889 World’s Fair for which it was built. Fortunately, some wise Parisian heads prevailed, and the Tower continues to surprise and please a gazillion people every year. Well, in these days of Covid, that number might have come down to the mid-tens. Perhaps 16. Klimt may be described as Ostentatious: The Kiss, an achingly beautiful creati

  N. The midway point. We’re halfway there, folks, and when we get there we’re all in for a surprise. I went to my Chambers Dictionary to make sure I knew what Nimbus meant before I wobbled on with it. The first word that struck my when I opened the book was this: NEPHELOMETER . I wish I’d known of that word before I randomly plucked Nimbus from my cerebellum. I want a Nephelometer almost more than I want a copy of “Becoming Duchess Goldblatt”. But more of that later. I thought I knew about Nimbus, and I was right. It was generous of Chambers to confirm it. I often feel as though I have a nimbus of my own: Jenny certainly does. A cloud of glowing light, surrounding its source. Jenny’s nimbus glows like a Chopin etude; delicate, flowering, as tough as old boots, and gentle as a lamb’s fleece. My own isn’t so nuanced. I feel often that there are dark reds in my nimbus, and fluorescent blues. Shut your eyes for a moment and concentrate on your phosphenes: the various shapes and patt

M for Sis. Just in case you were wondering. And I have two excellent sisters. They are both blessings to the world. Manopause. In no way am I intending to dismiss or denigrate Menopause, which is something entirely different, yet similar.  Well, in a way. On a scale of 1 to 10, Menopause scores an 11 for unpleasantness, while Manopause barely registers.  So, Manopause. I am currently reading a Bill Bryson book, He should write quotes, the way Shakespeare did: he is as quotable. One that leapt out at me yesterday said "I woke up to the realisation that I am now too old to be diagnosed with Early Onset Dementia" and after I had stopped laughing I realised that I fit into that bucket as well. Any future diagnosis of that bloody awful condition will now be either "Just In Time Dementia" or "Late Onset Dementia". It is, of course, to be fervently wished that neither condition will sneak up on me. I am not comforted by the thought that I will not be aware it has

  A is for 'orses; B, for Mutton; C for yourself, F for Blind; E for You or Me; F for Vescence; G for Police; H for Weight; I for an Eye; J for Oranges; K for Teria; L for Leather... I love our alphabet. But for today, we're looking at L. I was watching the Grues the other day (my new name for the News, because, you know: if it bleeds, it leads.) and the reporter referred to someone I didn't know as a "Legend".  I saw the picture of the person, who was around 18, and had become a Legend because of her ability to solve a Rubik's Cube in 10 seconds. I still haven't solved one, but that's because I too, am a Legend: it has taken me 40 years to make the progress I have made, which is to have two sides more or less a full block of colour. That is to say: 8 white pieces, one green. Sort of thing. The device will undoubtedly be dropped onto my corpse in the coffin, still not solved, to melt and burn a hole through my soul when I am crisped. I am anticipating

  K. One of our oddest letters, often used where it's no longer pronounced: K-nife, K-nowledge, K-now, and so on. Or so off. The sound used to be pronounced, but that was only the King's English which was as plastic as jelly. Always changing. Not like the Queen's English, which is immutable.  Also, much of K's use has been overtaken by C - Cut, Curt, Courage, and Cunning. Then there's Q: Quarter, Quiff, and Quarrelsome. Does K have a future? I think K is a Keeper. There's a lot to be said for Keep. A castle's Keep was the refuge of last resort should the castle's defenses be slighted.  To Keep your word is to be trustworthy. And to Keep striving for betterment is not a bad ambition for any human being. I was thinking about that last night, when we were watching the doco about Centrepoint, in Auckland's Albany. We've seen a few documentaries about Cults - the USA seems to be prone to them, but they certainly don't have a monopoly on them. They