Kel's previous Ozwords of the day...

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Grammarphobia Today I am writing to recommend someone else’s website (something I don’t do often!) The website in question is called ‘Grammarphobia’ and is run by the husband-and-wife team of Patricia T. O’Connor and Stewart Kellerman. I am currently reading one of their books: Origins of the Specious (look again carefully—it’s ‘specious’ not ‘species’!). The book is about the myths and misconceptions of the English language. I am using it as my current ‘train book.’ I travel to and from Sky News by the Metro, and while everyone else in the carriage is glued to the screens on their little smart phones, I am reading a book. Of course. What else would you expect? Much of what they write about I agree with totally (can you split the infinitive? Yes, you can!). But not everything. For instance, take the word ‘niche’ (which means a small recess, or an appropriate place or position). They write: ‘Traditionally the word “niche’ has been pronounced NITCH.’ Oh, no it hasn’t. The real authority on pronunciation is not some American supermarket—it’s the Oxford English Dictionary which says we pronounce the word as NEESH. But this is only a minor blemish. Patricia and Stewart are [a] right about almost everything (or everything except ‘niche’), and [b] are always interesting to read. Hence, I am recommending their website ‘Grammarphobia.’ There you’ll find their latest language blog, and an archive full of previous language blogs, a ‘Q and A’ page filled with the most common questions about language. (In that it differs from my own ‘Q and A’ page which I am regularly updating with the latest questions I have been asked.) On ‘Grammarphobia’ there is also a page of common language myths, a list of their books, and a bit about the authors. You can even subscribe to their newsletter (which only comes out occasionally—not every day, as mine does). For us wordies it is fun site, and I recommend it. You can find it at grammarphobia.com. 

Grammarphobia: Grammar, etymology, linguistics, usage

Matrescence Yes, it’s Weird Word time once again. And this time it’s the Weird Word that is totally and completely unnecessary. Here’s how the Cambridge English Dictionary explains this word: ‘Those physical, psychological and emotional changes you go through after the birth of your child now have a name: matrescence.’ According to Lara Prendergast, writing in The Spectator, ‘matrescence’ first appeared in the 1970s, coined by medical anthropologist Dana Raphael. It is meant to cover the physical, psychological, emotional and social transition a woman undergoes when she becomes a mother. And there is now a book called Matrescence by Lucy Jones. She has subtitled her book, ‘On the metamorphosis of pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood.’ And in that last word I think she has given the game away. Sometimes new words (even weird new words) arrive and my reaction is. ‘Excellent! We didn’t have a name for that before.’ But not this time. Because this particular new word, ‘matrescence’ means exactly the same thing as ‘motherhood.’ Exactly! We already had that word. The word ‘motherhood’ has been with us for a little over 500 years, and it means ‘The state, condition, or fact of being a mother’ (Oxford). See what I mean? Exactly the same as this unneeded new word ‘matrescence.’ So, why has it been coined? In order to make money! It peddles a (supposedly) new pseudo-science. There are now being offered such things as ‘Matrescence Support Therapy’—for a price, of course! One therapist offers a ‘Matrescence Reset Leadership Power Hour’ for a mere $300, or you can have private coaching sessions for as little as $1,500. Or you can be trained to be a ‘Matrescence Coach’ for just $6,000. And apparently somewhere in Britain there is a planned ‘Matrescence Festival.’ Money, money, money! A word we didn’t need, coined to make normal life sound like a medical condition, and then make money out of it!

Re-claiming our words Recently Christopher Akehurst wrote a piece for Quadrant about claiming back words—words that (he says) have been stolen from us by Left wing ideologies. He writes: ‘Language is spoken thought and if we unresistingly accept leftist distortions of words we end up thinking like leftists.’ So what words is he talking about? Here are some of the words on his list:

Gender—the Trans movement now claims that everyone has a ‘gender’ not a ‘sex.’ We need to re-claim this by insisting on using the word ‘sex’, as in ‘There are only two sexes.”

Woman—another word destroyed by the Trans lobby. We should insist that only people with XX chromosomes have a right to the word ‘woman.’

Sexism—Christopher Akehurst says we should deny there is any such thing as ‘sexism.’ He explains, ‘Sexism only exists in the collective imagination of feminism, whose privileged proponents, resentful that they hadn’t been born men, devised the first attack on the notion of a shared humanity.’ We are ‘ladies’ and ‘gentlemen’ but all of us share a common humanity.

Racism—Obviously, there always have been, and still are, some people who are racist. But to say the people should not be given special treatment on the basis of their race, rather than their need, is not racist. In fact, the opposite is true. People who want to give special treatment to a particular race—they are the real racists because they are making the patronising, arrogant assumption that every member of that race is the same and has the same needs. 

Colonise—this has long been one of the hate words of the Left. They reject the reality that if you were lucky enough to be colonised by the British, whatever you might lose, you gained more. Colonialism brought: the rule of law, democracy, engineering, permanent dwellings, a written language and much more to Australia. We should be proud of our colonial heritage, not ashamed of it.

Climate change—is now used to refer to the weather pattern of the entire planet. Worse than that, it means the belief that politicians can control the global climate. Of course ‘climate change’ is happening. And it will go on happening. It can’t be stopped. Spending billions of dollars trying to stop a force of nature is both stupid and irresponsible.

So, what do you think? Are these words that we should reclaim from the ideologists? Should we insist on a realistic use of words that are (in the end) about reality? 

Beared There is it was, right before my eyes, in The Daily Telegraph. The story was about an artist who was accused by being a copycat. Two of her prize-winning paintings, the story said, had a very close resemblance to paintings by better and more famous artists. Each painting was said to ‘bear’ a close resemblance to its more famous source. But they wanted to say it in the past tense, so they wrote about ‘…a painting that beared striking similarities to an artwork by a revered international artist.’ Eh? ‘Beared? Where did they get that from? The verb ‘to bear’ (which means ‘to carry’) is construed in the following way: ‘bears’ (present tense). ‘bearing’ (present continuous), and ‘bore’ (past tense). They should have said that it ‘bore’ striking similarities. At the head of the article were names of three journalists. I will allow them to remain anonymous to hide their shame. But how could they get this simple piece of English grammar so wrong? There are two answers to that. (1) They probably belong to the generation failed by the education system which, for 40 years, failed to teach correct grammar to school children. The educators thought they were being smart implementing the trendy ‘whole language’ system (don’t learn real spelling or grammar, just look at the ‘shape’ of the word). Those chickens are now coming home to roost. (2) With newspapers under financial pressure (from online news and social media) many are cutting back on people called sub-editors. Subs are the people who went through every word of every story—fixed them up, gave them headlines, and laid them out on the page. Clearly this story had never been subbed at all! One more word: why is this author called a ‘copycat’? The word arose in America in the late 1800s, supposedly from the way that domestic cats will sometimes imitate each other’s behaviour. It caught on, and stuck, because of the alliteration between the two hard Cs. But back to this butchered grammar. Two lessons: schools, get your act together! Newspapers: run the spellcheck more often!

Silent reading book clubs There is a phenomenon quietly tip-toeing around the world. It is the ‘Silent Book Club’ movement. In most book clubs the idea is that a group of people read the same book, and then meet together to talk about it. However, in a Silent Book Club, the members each bring their own book—and sit around and read! Exactly the same thing you could do in your own lounge room—but, instead, you do it surrounded by people who also love books and reading so there is a sense of camaraderie. There is even a website that co-ordinates such clubs around the word—called (of course!) the Silent Book Club, and they have their web address: htts://silentbook.club. At each meeting people arrive, greet each other, have a coffee together, then settle down and read their own books. After an amount of time they take a break, and (if they feel like it) show people why they’re reading and explain why. It’s no new thing. In October of last year the Silent Book Club celebrated their 10th anniversary. Here’s their explanation: ‘Silent Book Club is a global community of readers with 2,000 chapters in 60+ countries. There's no assigned reading — it's bring your own book. More than a million members gather in person, online, and in destinations around the world to read together and swap stories. All readers are welcome!’ They even have Silent Book Club retreats—holidays at some pleasing location, where you can lounge around for days amidst magnificent scenery doing what you do at your regular Silent Book Club meeting. In Sydney, two sisters, Brittany and Ellese Ferdinands, have now founded a Silent Book Club for young women, called ‘books, bars, and Taylor Swift.’ And I’m not going to object! Anything that gets the young reading is a Good Thing. But Silent Book Clubs are not just for the young. In fact, from the photos I’ve seen most of those who attend are older folk. I quite like the idea—connection and a sense of community while doing something that is good for the soul.

Plague / Scourge Today two words describing the same (fairly horrible) phenomenon. And the problem? Mice! Millions of mice! Regional communities in West Australia say the number of mice in their homes is unprecedented, with mice chewing through plastic containers, milk cartons and food containers. CSIRO research officer Steve Henry, who has studied mouse numbers in paddocks from Geraldton to Esperance, said the figures are alarming. Hence the use of these two words ‘plague’ and ‘scourge’ to label the little rodents over-running the place. We haven’t heard much about this in the eastern stares, but for months, people in parts of Western Australia have been battling a ‘scourge’: swarms of mice that have taken over homes, businesses, and roads. Experts say few predators and plentiful food sources resulted in the mouse ‘plague.’ The misery of life in these communities includes kitchens overrun with rodents, the sound of mice under car tires, mice in the ceilings and walls, and the constant smell of decaying mouse bodies. ‘Scourge’ has been part of English since around 1225. These days it means ‘something causing misery, affliction, or death’, but when it first popped up (coming into English from Anglo-Norman French) it meant ‘whipping’ or ‘flogging.’ From this it came to be used figuratively to mean ‘a calamity’ (recorded in this sense from 1538). And, as ABC news has reported, ‘Mouse numbers in Western Australia are already at plague proportions.’ The word ‘plague’ (recorded from around 1382) at first meant something like a blow, a wound or an affliction—again from a French source word. And behind the French was a classical Latin word plāga meaning a stroke or wound. Over the years this was extended to mean torture—and you can see how an epidemic of disease (or of mice!) could be seen as a slow, on-going torture—and, hence, as a ‘plague.’ Neither of them are nice words, but then what is happening it not very nice either.

Phishing ‘Phishing’ is an online scam. The word ‘phishing’ is first recorded around 1995 or 96. It turns up in a warning to customers of the hosting service AOL (America Online)—the first to be targeted by ‘phishing.’ The Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English defines ‘phishing’ in this way: ‘the criminal activity of using emails or a website to trick people into giving up information such as their bank account number which can then be used to get money or goods.’ ‘Phishing’ these days has become highly professional, and is run on a large scale by organised crime. Very often these days the key to the scam is that the ‘phishing’ email or text appears to come from a reputable source—bank, government department etc. They will go to the trouble of cloning the logo of the company and use it in their email/text to you. Clearly, the intention is to make you think you are really dealing with Centrelink or Westpac—and the purpose is to get you to give them some personal details, enough so they can steal your identity. Often all you have to do is click on the link in the email/text to be in trouble—one click can download malware into your computer that will hunt through your files and send out all your personal details. I find the best way to protect against such emails to check the address it’s come from. The sender’s address is always (automatically) shown at the top of any email. So, when they claim to be Centrelink but have a return address of @pqzr.com then something smells fishy. By the way, this con was called ‘phishing’ because it is—the criminal gangs use automation to send out countless thousands of messages as ‘bait’ hoping for an occasional bite. The ‘ph-’ spelling (I think) comes from the word ‘phoney’—which they certainly are. Worldwide scams such as this are now pulling in more than a trillion dollars a year. That’s bigger than the entire global illegal drug trade! I am told that one of the biggest global centres for this scamming crime is in Mekong in Southeast Asia (a region that covers parts of China, Laos, Thailand and Vietnam)—where multi-billion-dollar syndicates operate. You have been warned.

Gen Z slang—part two Yesterday I reported on a debate about whether teachers (or other adults for that matter) should try to talk to kids in the kids’ own slang (called ‘Gen Z slang’). And I made the point that if we know what some of their slang terms are (and mean) we can quote them, without pretending to use them—we are knowing adults, not pretend kids. And it struck me that a list of a few of the many ‘Gen Z’ slang terms might be useful. So here is a small sample:

Bussin’ – Describes something exceptionally good, often food. Example: ‘This pizza is bussin’.’

Slay – To do something really well or look amazing. Example: ‘You slayed that presentation!’

Ghosting – Suddenly cutting off communication, or ignoring someone. Example: ‘She ghosted me after one date.’

Salty – Feeling bitter, annoyed, or jealous. Example: ‘He’s salty because he lost the game.’

Mid – Something average or mediocre. Example: ‘The concert was mid, nothing special.’

Bro – an abbreviation of ‘brother’ and used to identify with one’s local group

Rizz – An abbreviation of ‘charisma’ used to label someone or something with special appeal.

Aura farming – from the notion that everyone has a surrounding ‘aura’ of some sort, and improving one’s ‘aura’ (one’s coolness or charisma) is ‘aura farming.’

Lock in – means an intense focus and concentration on something.

Living rent free – if something is ‘living rent-free’ in your head, that means you can’t stop thinking about it.

Now that’s a sort of ‘Top Ten;’ list of common Gen Z terms. Mind you there are 50 or 60 different Gen Z slang terms in all, so this is a small selection. But even this short list might help you to understand your children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. Good luck with that!

Gen Z slang According to a report in The Daily Telegraph some teachers are trying to talk to students using the kids’ own slang. This is a form of words called ‘Gen Z slang.’ By the way, that generation is pronounced Gen ZED—definitely not Gen ZEE! The report said that Australian teachers are being told to stop using ‘Gen Z slang’ in the classroom with phrases such as ‘rizz’, ‘aura farming’, ‘bro’, and ‘lock in’ increasingly creep into teacher talk. So, why is this such a bad idea? Well, the report says that at least some education experts are saying using the kids’ slang is like ‘wearing a clown costume to make friends.’ This phrase comes from teaching expert Adam Voight who warns that teachers trying to talk like teenagers can backfire—instead of connecting with the kids, the teachers can lose their own authority. He said that teachers should always model formal and respectful language, not the latest slang. Is this right? Well, it all depends on how the slang terms are employed. Teachers should notUSE them, but they can QUOTE them. Here’s an example of the difference. If a teacher in a Shakespeare lesson (do schools have those anymore?) were to say. ‘Romeo had real rizz’ he would be using the slang word. But if he said, ‘Romeo had what you might call rizz in today’s language’—that is quotingnot using. It is displaying an understanding of how slang changes with each generation, and quoting a newish expression to make a Shakespearean point. In this example of ‘quoting’ the teacher is not pretending to be young and hip, but to be an authoritative teacher who understands that language changes. Can you see the difference? Mind you, it is also wrong to overplay how important new slang is. There is no unique, massive generational language shift going on—there is just the normal shift in slang terms that happens in every generation, and has happened for many generations. By the way, for parents and grandparents the same rule applies. Don’t try to use the kids’ slang as if you were one of them—but you can quote it back to them (making it clear that you are quoting) to explain a point in their language. That’s the differencing between ‘using’ and ‘quoting.’

Living language There was yet another lament for the fading of older Australian words, recently. This one came from James Button writing in The Weekend Australian. He writes: ‘The Australian Language has changed over my lifetime (I’m 64), and the changes reflect how our country has changed. We’ve moved from British to American sourced words…’ And he goes on to catalogue a bunch of Aussie expressions that he no longer hears, and a string of Americanisms that crop up now and bother him. Of course, I’ve come across this sort of thing often before. Frequently the complaint is put in even stronger words and we’re told that the Australian Language is dying. My reply is always to quote Mark Twain’s famous remark that ‘reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.’ Of course Aussie English is changing! That’s because our language is a living language, not a dead language. It is a living, flowing river not a putrid swamp! We use expressions our grandparents didn’t, and our grandchildren use (or will use) others we don’t recognise. It is nothing to be surprised about, or to lament. Aussie English remains as inventive and as distinctive as ever—but it is alive, not dead and not living in the past! As for the influence of Americanisms—the great Henry Fowler in his Dictionary of Modern English usage was complaining about the influence of America on British English way back in 1922. And in my book The Story of Australian English I demonstrate that Aussies are not the dumb language-slaves of America. For a start, we’ve always been selective about which Americanisms we adopt. For a century or more we’ve heard the yanks call petrol ‘gas’ and not adopted it; and heard them call the chemist shop the ‘drug store’ and just ignored it. And it is a two-way trade—there is evidence that American English has absorbed a lot of expressions coined here in Australia. So, calm down James Button—there is nothing new here, and nothing to weep about!

Nonchalant This is a lovely old French word that is recorded in English from around 1734. As you know ‘nonchalant’ (pronounced NON-shuhl-uhnt) means ‘calm and casual’ (Oxford). And it is very old—in Old French ‘nonchalant’ seems to go back as far as 1265. In French its original meaning was that something of was no personal interest or no importance. I draw this to your attention today because according to an article on the website Moneycontrol this has now become a favourite word with Gen Z (roughly those born between 1997 and 2012). When I read their preference for this nice old French word I was puzzled. I thought the vocabulary of the young was shrinking, not growing. But on the website Gurpreet Singh says that in the modern hectic and pressurized world with its ever-present information overload, the term nonchalant has silently taken on a new meaning. While the word has existed for centuries, it gained renewed popularity through modern pop culture, social media captions and Gen Z slang usage. In this modern world, he says, a person who looks calm, relaxed and not bothered by something even in those cases when others can be nervous or excited is described as nonchalant. I take his point. However, what he is calling a ‘new meaning’ is not exactly new. But he goes on to say that it is often used to describe a “cool” attitude which means someone who does not try too hard and stays effortlessly composed. And that is, perhaps, a slight extension of the original meaning. So, possibly, this is the time for those of us who are a bit older to celebrate the younger ones discovering a nice, colourful, old word. Well done Gen Z!

Spitting chips I recently asked the viewers of ‘Credlin’ on Sky News (and listeners to 2GB, 4BC, 2CC and 6PR) to help me solve the mystery of ‘spitting chips.’ As you know this expression means spluttering angrily or expressing annoyance. It’s an Australian coinage, first recorded in a Perth newspaper, the Sunday Times, in 1899. But what ‘chips’ are people supposed to be spitting when they are angry? Potato chips? Or what? No one seems to have a clear answer, hence my appeal for help. Here are few of your thoughts: David wrote to say, ‘I believe it is when you are that the football eating crisps or hot chips and you are voicing your disgust with a decision of the ref. You have a mouth full and the ref upsets you, so you voice your opinion by yelling and therefore literally “spitting chips.” A slang for outrage for a ref decision.’ Excellent suggestion David, but I’m not sure it fits with the 1899 origin date. Mark thinks the original might have been ‘splitting’ not ‘spitting’ chips. But we have the original in black and white, so that one won’t fly. Ron writes: ‘Regarding spitting chips, maybe this came from back when we had bath chip heaters for hot water, often heard my mother say this when running a bath as the chip heater was spitting embers etc into bath water annoying her hence the expression Spitting Chips.’ Interesting. Julie Anne writes: ‘my 88-year-old bushman father once told me that this saying comes from wood chips in a fire. Most kindling or woodchips used to start a fire were (and still are) predominantly pine chips which are typically full of resin. When lit, they spit and hiss and crackle in the fire, similarly to when we are angry ... we spit and hiss and crackle! Thus the old saying, "spitting chips"!’ One respondent (who didn’t leave his or her name) suggested it might be from a blunt wood saw, or a saw with bent blades, spitting out wood chips. And this, I think, is a very good observation. When a sharp, straight, wood saw is used what comes out is fine sawdust. But when some of the points are bent or blunt the saw will chew up and spit out chips of wood. And this image might figuratively stand for the sharp words being spat out of the mouth of someone who is annoyed. I think that you have, collectively, solved the problem!

Semi-quincentennial This is the day to say ‘Happy Birthday’ to any American you happen to know or who you run into. Because today is America’s 250th birthday. July 4th has long been celebrated as America’s birthdate. On July 4, 1776, the Continental Congress formally adopted the Declaration of Independence, a document primarily authored by Thomas Jefferson. This declaration announced the separation of the 13 American colonies from British rule, asserting their right to self-governance and outlining grievances against King George III. Although the resolution for independence was voted on July 2, the final adoption of the declaration occurred two days later, which is why July 4 is still remembered as the symbolical birthday for the nation. So what about this strange word Semi-quincentennial? By the way, I am writing it with a semicolon, by and large the Americans are not. But I think it’s easier to read and understand with my semicolon. This word breaks down into bits. Clearly the ‘centennial’ bit means a hundred years. The ‘quin’ bit comes from Latin and means ‘five.’ So a ‘quincentennial’ means ‘500 hundred years. And sticking the prefix ‘semi’ on front of it halves the 500 hundred and means (or is supposed to mean!) half of 500—namely 250. The odd thing is that ‘semi-quincentennial’ is not found in the full Oxford English Dictionary—but the word ‘quincentennial’ is. The Oxford says it was coined in 1884. Judging from the citations underneath the etymology and definition it remains a fairly rare word. Well, there’s not much call for it I suppose? How often do we want a special word to say that something is 500 years old? And the American device of (effectively) putting a half sign in front of 500 strikes we as a bit odd. But what else could they have done? Well ‘sesquicentennial’ means 150 years, so I suppose they could have invented ‘sesquicentennial-centennial’—150 years plus another hundred years. That would make about as much sense as semiquincentennial.’ Anyway, happy birthday America!

New Words The great Oxford English Dictionary updates the big book every six months. But only at the mid-year update in June do they add new Australian words. This year (as they have just announced) the Oxford added 17 new Aussie words to its big book. Here are some of them:

Donkey vote—which first appeared in print in 1895. It springs out of our system of preferential voting. When someone doesn’t number the squares to show their preferred candidate, but instead just votes down the page indiscriminately, that’s thought of as a stupid way to vote, and donkeys are stupid, so it’s a ‘donkey vote.’

Branch stacking—only goes back to 1932 and names the practice of one faction in a political party signing up lots of new members to a party branch just before its time to preselect a parliamentary candidate. This ensures that their faction’s candidate wins the ballot.

Curly—in the sense of ‘a curly one.’ We’ve all used this to describe a challenging or difficult question or decision or situation. Recorded from 1942

Checkout chick—the Aussie nickname for the checkout operator. Although, quite frankly, there are fewer and fewer of them. These days we are all supposed to do our own checkouts (even though we are not on the staff of Colesworths!)

Flog—a person who overly studious, who think they’ve gone to uni to learn things, not just have fun and join in rowdy demonstrations. A recent one from 1969.

Dishlicker—a racing greyhound. This has been part of the Aussie language since 1972.

Grey nomads—those oldies (hey! Lay off the oldies!)—alright those Baby Boomers then, who retire, buy a caravan and travel Australia.

Snot block—the schoolboy slang for a vanilla slice. (Which schoolboys use, in order to make the adults around them say ‘Oh! Yuk! That’s horrible!’). The Oxford team have not found this in print until 1987. But it’s been around a lot longer than that. I remember using this when I was a schoolboy in short pants in the 1960s.

Mrs Kafoops—has finally made it into the dictionary. We’ve been using this since at least 1913 to name a woman whose name we’ve forgotten. Although it’s sometimes used to name a woman who is a bit up herself.

Well, that’s not the lot. But it’s enough. The Australian Language keeps making great contributions to world English!

Pelican Is ‘pelican’ an Aussie slang term like ‘boofhead’, ‘drongo’, and ‘drip’? I have found two examples of it being used in that way. The first was from Paul Hogan. The Australian Financial Review tracked down the 86-year-old in California where he now lives. They told him about Pauline Hanson’s famous National Press Club speech. Obviously (the Australian Financial Review is a left-wing Nine newspaper) they wanted Hogan to criticise Pauline. And, only having their account of the speech, he did so. He called her a ‘pelica’ Linguistically, what is interesting is the use of ‘pelican’ as an Aussie slang word. It’s not found in the exhaustive, big two-volume second edition of The Australian Nation Dictionary. But Paul Hogan has used it before. In 1986’s Crocodile Dundee movie he tells a New York driver: ‘Get on the right side of the road, ya pelican!’ The second example is from another Australian actor, Russell Crowe, who reportedly tweeted after the Rabbitohs’ 2014 grand final win that one of the club’s sponsors was a ‘pelican’ after he was overhead to back the opposing team (the Bulldogs). Now, this is a language moment that intrigues me, because the Oxford English Dictionary tells me that ‘pelican’ is indeed a slang word—but it is American, not Australian! There, it means, apparently, ‘a worthless person; a fool, an oaf.’ It’s recorded in that sense since 1856. And it is often, the entry adds, prefixed by the adjective ‘old.’ But why pick on the pelican in this way? In Australia we once called greedy children who stuffed their mouths with food ‘pelicans.’ We would say ‘You are just like a pelican; your mouth holds more than your belly can.’ Was there a similar saying in America? Is that the source of the expression? We can but speculate. 

Solastalgia When people in a rural area become distressed by ugly developments marching across their landscape, what word best describes their feelings? Environmental philosopher Glenn Albrecht has coined a word to name the distress these people feel in their hearts. His new word is ‘solastalgia.’ He says he has derived this as a ‘portmanteau word’ which combines elements from ‘solace’ (comfort, consolation, the alleviation of sorrow) ‘desolation’ (devastated) ‘nostalgia’ (sentimental longing, regretful memory) and ‘algia’ (pain). He says he coined the word in 2003 and that since then it has been used in court cases, academia, public policy, books and music. It is not yet listed in any of the major dictionaries. However, it does appear in the hyper-hip online Urban Dictionary which gives following definition: ‘A form of emotional or existential distress caused by environmental change. It is best described as the lived experience of negatively perceived environmental change.’ In other words, when folk in a country town, or living on farms, see giant, ugly power lines marching across their landscape—forced on them by ideological governments—destroying good farmland, ruining the landscape, killing local wildlife and creating a massive waste-disposal problem for the future—what they feel is ‘solastalgia.’ The word has been listed by the Collins Dictionary as a new word suggestion, and is ‘being monitored for evidence of usage.’

Monoculture—again! Former Governor General Sir Peter Cosgrove is the latest person to criticize the word ‘monoculture’ claiming that ‘it is clumsy and close-to-authoritarian.’ In other words, according to Cosgrove ‘monoculture’ means something that is imposed on people from above—by some sort of authority. He’s not the first to make this kind of ignorant remark. Queensland LNP MP Garth Hamilton described ‘monoculturalism’ as ‘terrifying’ and sounding like North Korea. What is wrong with these people? Don’t they own a dictionary? Are they too lazy to look up a word? So, once again, for the sake of the dummies at the back of the class— ‘monoculture’ means a ‘common culture’ (a shared culture). That’s according to the Oxford English Dictionary the most authoritative English dictionary in the world. ‘Monoculture’ was coined in 1901 to described\ agriculture—a farm where there was one crop that was common to (shared by) all the fields on the farm. In 1968 it was applied to humans to mean any group of humans who share a common culture—which might be either good or bad; it might be criminal gangs in Los Angeles or the people of Italy or Japan. Angus Taylor also showed himself to be terrified by the notion of Australians have any sort of shared culture when he refused to endorse ‘monoculturalism.’ And Anthony Albanese claimed the Socceroos are ‘multicultural’ not ‘monocultural.’ A stupid remark. If they were ‘multicultural’ some would be playing by the rules of soccer and some by the rules of rugby league or ALF. They have a monoculture—it is called ‘soccer.’ Why are otherwise intelligent people terrified by the prospect of Australians having any sort of shared, common culture? I have stop now. I am going purple in the face at the thought of the lazy, stupidity of these people!

Performative gratitude According to the Grammarphobia website ‘performative gratitude’ first appeared around a dozen years ago on social media and then spread to more mainstream media. Writing in Psychology Today Dr Joel Wong says, ‘performative gratitude occurs when we express thanks not out of genuine appreciation but to burnish our social image. Like other forms of virtue signalling, it thrives on public display—especially on social media.’ The example he gives is someone who gushes out thanks to everyone on their LinkedIn page ‘who has helped.’ This, he claims, is not sincere gratitude but a performance put on to show what a nice person you are. His description reminded me of the little speeches given by winners at the Oscars, the Grammies, the Logies or any of those award shows. These little speeches usually consist of a ‘performance’ of over-flowing gratitude. They thank their producer, and then go on to thank everyone from their mother to God himself. ‘Performative gratitude’ is so far found in none of the major dictionaries. A little surprisingly, it is not even in the online hyper-hip Urban Dictionary. Perhaps it has not yet been used enough, or is just not taken seriously, by the big dictionaries. However, the component word in this compound noun ‘performative’ is recorded from 1922 (when it appeared in the Journal of Philosophy). It just means ‘performing an act.’ However, I wonder if ‘performative gratitude’ is always a negative thing. Yes, I agree that when people gush insincerely that is nonsense and should never be taken seriously. But there are lots of much smaller acts of ‘performative gratitude’, many of them almost automatic and unthinking, that help to grease wheels of social cohesion. When someone does some small thing for us, even if it’s just handing over the coffee we ordered at the local coffee shop, we automatically say ‘thanks.’ And I think we should. It’s not profound. It’s not deep. It’s just a little bit of ‘performative gratitude.’ But it is nice! 

Widdershins This is a quaint, antique word one would not expect to see in print in a newspaper these days. So I was caught by surprise when it popped up in a column in the Sunday Telegraph by Peter Goers. He was writing about titles and forms of address—complaining that Australians have become informal to the point of sloppiness. We expect to call our doctor by his first name, not his title. And both ‘Mr’ and ‘Mrs’ are being used less and less. At the same time, he claimed, there is obsession with using older, imperial, titles such as ‘honourable’ (for some parliamentarians and judges) which he said was anachronistic. ‘This,’ he wrote, ‘is widdershins.’ And there it is, this lovely old word. Basically ‘widdershins’ means ‘anti-clockwise.’ But many people use it (as Peter Goers did) to mean something more like ‘going backwards.’ ‘Widdershins’ is recorded in English from 1513, with the original meaning of ‘in the direction opposite to the usual, the wrong way.’ The first part of the word means (roughly) against, and the second part comes from a German source word meaning ‘journey.’ Hence, to go ‘widdershins’ is to go the wrong way. Very early in its life in the English language ‘widdershins’ was used to mean travelling in the opposite direction to the sun. Since the sun goes from east to west, going ‘widdershins’ was going from west to east. But back in those days many times pieces were sun dials—and that extended the meaning of ‘widdershins’ to mean ‘anti-clockwise.’ And that remains a common way to use the word to this day. Many of the dictionaries I consulted on this way still give ‘counterclockwise’ or ‘anti-clockwise’ as the main meaning. But, as for me, I just the love the antiquated feeling of this lovely old word ‘widdershins’ (sometimes spelled ‘withershins’)—try to work it into your conversation sometime this week.

Loo Why do we call the toilet the ‘loo’? Among the experts there is a lot of to-ing and fro-ing on this, and repeated attempts to suggest it comes from French. But I myself prefer the simplest and most obvious explanation. I’ll come to that in a moment, but first, the alternatives. One suggestion is that it comes from the French expression meaning ‘toilet’—llieux d'aisances. This was commonly shortened to lieux which to English ears would have sounded roughly like ‘loo.’ Then there’s the proposal that it came from the French word for chamber pot bourdaloue which was, the Oxford says with great precision, ‘a chamber pot of oblong shape.’ Then there’s the possibility that it came from gare de l'eau which is French for ‘beware of the water.’ This was (supposedly) a warning cry uttered (in old Edinburgh) before throwing dirty water from the window into the street. Although why chamber maids in Edinburgh in the 1700s would shout warning cries in French is not at all clear. But why any need for French at all? Of all the suggestions that the experts offer, the one that looks simplest to me (and simple explanations are frequently the best) is that it is a pun on the word ‘Waterloo.’ Where does the ‘water’ go? Into the ‘Waterloo’ (or just ‘loo’ for short). Preferring the simplest, least complicated, explanation is called Occam’s Razor—a bit of philosophy from William of Occam (1287-1347) which says, ‘always prefer the explanation that requires the fewest assumptions.’ The Napoleonic wars ended in 1815 with the Battle of Waterloo. The battle was won by the Duke of Wellington, who became a national hero. The use of ‘loo’ meaning toilet does not appear in print until 1895—but it may well have been part of the spoken language for a long time before that. What do you think? Is ‘Waterloo’ the simplest and most likely reason we call the toilet the ‘loo’? Of course it is!

Gooder Sometimes I worry about what is happening to higher education—not just here, but around the English-speaking world. My hackles have been raised (most recently! It happens often!) by a faculty member from Harvard. Alison Wood Brooks is the O’Brien Associate Professor of Business Administration and Hellman Faculty Fellow at the Harvard Business School. The Harvard website tells us that she teaches a cutting-edge course in the MBA curriculum called ‘How to talk gooder in business and life.’ I beg your pardon? ‘Gooder’? How come a Harvard Associate Professor fails basic English and is still employed? Primary school kids are taught the comparative and superlative forms of the word ‘good’—which are: ‘good’, ‘better’, best.’ J. Furphy & Sons has been manufacturing in Australia since 1864. They made famous water carts (used in the First World War) and across the back of each cart were these encouraging words: ‘Good, better, best—never let it rest, until your good is better, and your better best.’ If metal workers knew the difference between comparative and superlative back in 1864, how come a Harvard Professor doesn’t know it in 2026!?! The content of this appallingly named course seems to be very sensible. It’s all about how to listen well. Professor Wood Brooks says, ‘Listening to somebody’s statement then probing for more information is a superhero move, and a shockingly low number of people think to do it. You should show you're listening by saying you are out loud.’ Perfectly correct. And a good thing to teach MBA students. But not a ‘gooder’ thing—because there is no such word. Harvard, prove that you are still part of the intelligent, educated world by disciplining this person!

Last words What words to you put at the end of an email? Or at the end of a letter? (Does anyone still write letters?) In her column in The Sunday Telegraph Francis Whiting raised this issue because she had received a letter (ah! Some people still write letters!) which had the word ‘Delightfully’ at the end just before the signature. Francis was so tickled by this that she said she will adopt this as a sign-off herself. I’m less impressed. What does it mean? That I (the email/letter writer) am a delightful person and that I have just written is delightful? A bit presumptuous, surely?  As anyone who has received an email from me knows, I very often (not always, but often) sign-off with ‘cheers’—a cheerful, all-purpose ending. Francis said that this has also been her go-to ending up until now, but from now on she’ll send people the message that she has written ‘delightfully’ as the sign-off. Hhmm. Not sure about that. How about you? How do you end emails (or letters)? Do you write ‘Yours Sincerely’ (or perhaps the one-word abbreviation ‘sincerely’)? But if, in my haste, I leave this off a short note, does that mean I’ve suddenly become insincere? Then there’s ‘Yours Faithfully’ (again with a one-word version ‘Faithfully’). But who or what am I claiming to be faithful to? My favourite political party? My favourite restaurant? My Christian faith? What am I claiming to be faithful to? Francis Whiting goes on to claim there are other options, such as: ‘Looking forward to hearing from you’ (surely not! It only encourages them!); ‘best wishes’ or ‘warm wishes’ (but do you care what I am wishing for you? Or what temperature my wishes are?); ‘cordially’ (better, I suppose, than ‘bitterly’); or ‘take care’ (if I hadn’t written that would you have been careless and risked life and limb?) So, what last words do you use? Pass on your suggestions and I’ll published them here.