I Demand to Have a Fluffy Thing

It’s interesting to compare the vocabularies of different languages. Spanish, for example, has two words for ‘to be’, one permanent and one temporary, though Inuit does not, contrary to popular opinion, have ten words for snow. But what is true is that the English have lots of words for rain: drizzle, mizzle, downpour, stair rods, cats and dogs, shower, light shower, scattered shower, torrent. pelting, tempestuous… I could go on and on like the rain itself has done this past month, and the reason is obvious; we get a lot of rain. Not only that, the rain is unpredictable and very variable, hence we have a large rain-soaked vocabulary. One of my favourite quotes about rain was heard at a bus stop somewhere in Yorkshire after someone remarked that the rain had come earlier than forecast: ‘Course, this in’t the proper rain. This is just condensation.’

George Orwell’s theory of language posits that without a word for something we are unable to have a concept of it. As Blackadder says, the Germans are evil and heartless because they have no word for ‘fluffy’. But I would dispute that – not the fluffy thing, the other thing* – because there are plenty of things we go around noticing but cannot yet name.

*although possibly also the fluffy thing

Douglas Adams’ Meaning of Liff gives words to things that have no name as yet. It’s an interesting linguistic exercise but it’s mainly comic; the comedy arising from the fact that we recognise the things but just haven’t named them yet. Such as the ‘garden sprinkler’ thing your mouth does when you open it at a certain angle (‘Skoonsprout’) or the way cars all slow down and drive in formation when a police car is among them ‘Grimbister.’

But once we start to properly think about these things we immediately invent words for them. As a child I felt that the broaching of a new jar of jam or Marmite required some sort of ceremony; the surface was so smooth and perfect, I wanted to say something as I dipped my knife in for the first time. So I invented the word ‘pervise’ and solemnly intoned ‘I pervise this jar of Marmite.’ Later I discovered something in my eye which only half seemed to be there, something I couldn’t explain and so christened it ‘boodies and frooths’ which summed up the uncanny feeling they gave me. I told my mother they were monsters but it wasn’t until I grew up that I discovered they were floaters in the eye.

In his book Mezzanine, Nicholson Baker shows us all the minutiae of life that we are only subliminally aware of. I thought I was the only person obsessed by the handrail on the Tube escalator but Baker is too; he describes in great detail how the handrail moves slightly faster than the stairs so that you have to keep adjusting where your hand is. It’s such a relief to read a book by someone as obsessed with minutiae as I am; who notices the tiny gap between lift and floor or the bit of the handrail where it seems to be stitched together like a rough wound, which if you watch for long enough comes round again and again. Here is a book detailing all the things I ever wanted to think about but was told weren’t important and in the end didn’t have time for. It is a joy.

I’m sort of groping towards a point here but I can’t yet pinpoint exactly what it is. In other news we’ve been watching the Netflix series Unorthodox, based on a true story of a woman’s escape from an ultra-orthodox Jewish community in Brooklyn. It’s very gripping. And before that we were enthralled by Little Fires Everywhere on Amazon Prime (yes, I know I hate Amazon but it wasn’t my account) the story of the unravelling of a supposedly inclusive community in small-town America.

Kirk out

5 thoughts on “I Demand to Have a Fluffy Thing

  1. I’ve often wondered if the English-speaking world, and we in particular, are the only culture which advertently [it must be a word, surely?] create new words for fun; not neologisms, specifically, which have a specific purpose; I’ve always loved puns & wordplay [thanks, Dad], and I always enjoy those lists of words which circulate on Facebook, like the ones Douglas Adams created, although the ones I’m referring to are often existing words applied to a different context.

    I’m slightly surprised by the Blackadder quote [I can’t profess to be an expert, but I have watched all of his iterations at least once], because he normally wouldn’t have a use for a word like ‘fluffy’; his Christmas persona was beneficent at first, though…….

    I too am ambivalent about Amazon: I don’t buy from it, or promote it, but a film I had a good part in a couple of years back, The Droving [which beetleypete was kind enough to review on his blog], is available on Amazon Prime [plus mubi, but I know nothing about that platform], so I have naturally promoted it, although it rankles that I also have to promote Amazon, in so doing. Too many people find Amazon convenient to let it trouble their conscience, I’m afraid. Cheers, Jon.

    1. And I’m sure English isn’t the only language to play about with words. Perhaps OH will enlighten us

  2. I am glad someone else noticed that the handrail moves faster on tube escalators. I never liked to hold it, for that very reason.
    Best wishes, Pete.

    1. I know! These things seem so trivial that you tell yourself not to waste time thinking about them but it used to bug me every day!

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