I see via Murderati that there is a "Shakespearean Insult Kit" comprising words the Bard employed. I rather enjoy Bardic vitriol. I once rehearsed in King Lear as Goneril and was joyously enabled to scream "milk-liver'd man!" at my husband on stage.
As a theatre director Ngaio Marsh must have taught many young actors to handle Will's bad language. She has fun with some of her playwright characters in various novels, particularly Dr Rutherford who scorns someone by pronouncing, "Get you gone, you dwarf - you minimus of hindr'ing knot-grass made, you bead, you acorn."
Myself, I'd be tempted to add the good old Midlands word "orts" that has been out of use now for three generations. Shakespeare used it in the phrase "abjects, orts and imitations" - things thrown aside as of no use, waste, or bad copies. The phrase has been misinterpreted as "objects, arts and imitations" but I know the word "orts" existed because my grandad used to say when you left food on your plate, "eat it up, I don't want your orts." It would combine well with some of our Cumbrian insults, I think. "Thou's nobbut an ort. Waste of a good skin."
Mind you in Cumbria we have a great many placenames and hill names that could be used as insults. Zoe Sharp suggested "Eeh, you great wet sleddle." To that I'd like to add, "E's nobbut a Subberthwaite," and "Thou's a Great Cockup."
More on names another time. I have to go now, I'm feeling a bit Witherslack.
Sue Millard - Jackdaw E Books. Horses, history and humour (not necessarily in that order) and general witterings; some vaguely literary, mostly rural. I live in Cumbria in Northern England.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
Paint Your Wagon
M M Bennetts sent me a query from her historical blog, about the colours of horsedrawn carriages, and as usual I’ve been deeply distracted from my paid work by the question.
Colours of carriages certainly varied a lot. The heavy timbers of farm wagons tended to be brightly painted in primary colours, reds, blues and yellows with contrasting scrolls and other decoration, like those on gipsy caravans and vardoes.
Romeo Coates, a wealthy and presumably very showy actor, drove a pair of grey horses to a curricle whose body was shaped like a nautilus shell and made of polished copper. It carried the motto “While I Live I’ll Crow.” Not exactly subtle, then.
On the other hand, like the hero of a Georgette Heyer novel who is distinguished by the unobtrusively perfect cut of his clothes, a gentleman’s Mail Phaeton had bodywork that was masculine and plain. It might be dark green, chocolate brown, maroon, navy blue or black. The “carriage,” which we would now call the undercarriage or chassis and included the springs, axles, and perch, was generally black.
Often the only bright colour would be the shafts (for a single horse) or the pole (for pair or team), and the wheels. These would be of one colour contrasting or toning with the body, such as yellow against rifle green or dark olive green, white against deep blue or red against black. A smaller touch of colour would be the coat of arms or crest at the top of the door panel, if the owner was entitled to bear arms. Gentlemen’s carriages were normally not lined with stripes of colour on their wheels and shafts in the same way as light private carriages. Such decoration was felt to be rather feminine.
Private coaches, however, could sport surprising colour combinations of body and wheels. In 1838 when the Richmond Driving Club was founded by Lord Chesterfield, the equipages of members were described by Lord William Lennox. Presumably the first colour mentioned is the largest area, on the body, and the second the wheels: “Earl of Chesterfield, blue and red coach; Marquis of Waterford, brown and red coach… Earl of Waldegrave, blue and red open barouche… Earl of Sefton, dark coloured barouche… Earl of Rosslyn, dark coloured coach… Count Batthyany, dark blue and white coach … Lord Alford, dark brown and red coach… Lord Alfred Paget, yellow and blue coach… Lord Macdonald, dark brown and red coach… Hon. Horace Pitt, blue and red coach… Sir E Smythe, Bart, dark green coach… Mr A W Hervey Aston, dark blue and white coach… Mr T Bernard, dark brown coach… Colonel Copeland, yellow barouche…”
Moving to commercial vehicles, the post chaises available from posting inns were also frequently painted yellow, hence their nickname of “Yellow Bounders”. Omnibuses were painted with the colours of their company so that passengers knew at a glance which line owned an approaching ’bus, although towards the end of the 19th century they typically had yellow wheels, which must have made it a lot easier for the company to buy spares!
A stage coach route needed four coaches, which tended to be painted in a recognisable uniform, a mixture of sober and bright colours according to the company’s preference. It might be extremely standardised, like Edward Sherman’s yellow and black, or the colours might reflect the route rather than the ownership. The Emerald, which left London at 3 in the afternoon, was painted green and black, and on its modern counterpart the green is extremely bright. The Duke of Beaufort’s book “Driving” describes the Regulator coach as “a dark coach with red wheels” and “the York House chocolate with yellow wheels.” The coach usually carried its bright colour on the lower panels, door and wheels. The Red Rover coach, despite its name, was mostly black with a scarlet undercarriage and panels, and scarlet wheels. The lettering showing destinations was often done in gold paint.
Many paintings of 19th century coaches, for example by Herring, show Mail coaches. These were painted black, with a maroon door and lower panel, and “Post Office red” running gear and wheels. Destinations, and the stars of the four Orders of Knighthood on the quarter panels, and the sovereign’s monogram on the front boot, were painted in gold.
All this means that my own two wheeler, black with red wheels and shafts, is in good company. It needs to be drawn by a quality bay horse with no white markings. Well, Ruby’s the right colour.
Colours of carriages certainly varied a lot. The heavy timbers of farm wagons tended to be brightly painted in primary colours, reds, blues and yellows with contrasting scrolls and other decoration, like those on gipsy caravans and vardoes.
Romeo Coates, a wealthy and presumably very showy actor, drove a pair of grey horses to a curricle whose body was shaped like a nautilus shell and made of polished copper. It carried the motto “While I Live I’ll Crow.” Not exactly subtle, then.
On the other hand, like the hero of a Georgette Heyer novel who is distinguished by the unobtrusively perfect cut of his clothes, a gentleman’s Mail Phaeton had bodywork that was masculine and plain. It might be dark green, chocolate brown, maroon, navy blue or black. The “carriage,” which we would now call the undercarriage or chassis and included the springs, axles, and perch, was generally black.
Often the only bright colour would be the shafts (for a single horse) or the pole (for pair or team), and the wheels. These would be of one colour contrasting or toning with the body, such as yellow against rifle green or dark olive green, white against deep blue or red against black. A smaller touch of colour would be the coat of arms or crest at the top of the door panel, if the owner was entitled to bear arms. Gentlemen’s carriages were normally not lined with stripes of colour on their wheels and shafts in the same way as light private carriages. Such decoration was felt to be rather feminine.
Private coaches, however, could sport surprising colour combinations of body and wheels. In 1838 when the Richmond Driving Club was founded by Lord Chesterfield, the equipages of members were described by Lord William Lennox. Presumably the first colour mentioned is the largest area, on the body, and the second the wheels: “Earl of Chesterfield, blue and red coach; Marquis of Waterford, brown and red coach… Earl of Waldegrave, blue and red open barouche… Earl of Sefton, dark coloured barouche… Earl of Rosslyn, dark coloured coach… Count Batthyany, dark blue and white coach … Lord Alford, dark brown and red coach… Lord Alfred Paget, yellow and blue coach… Lord Macdonald, dark brown and red coach… Hon. Horace Pitt, blue and red coach… Sir E Smythe, Bart, dark green coach… Mr A W Hervey Aston, dark blue and white coach… Mr T Bernard, dark brown coach… Colonel Copeland, yellow barouche…”
Moving to commercial vehicles, the post chaises available from posting inns were also frequently painted yellow, hence their nickname of “Yellow Bounders”. Omnibuses were painted with the colours of their company so that passengers knew at a glance which line owned an approaching ’bus, although towards the end of the 19th century they typically had yellow wheels, which must have made it a lot easier for the company to buy spares!
A stage coach route needed four coaches, which tended to be painted in a recognisable uniform, a mixture of sober and bright colours according to the company’s preference. It might be extremely standardised, like Edward Sherman’s yellow and black, or the colours might reflect the route rather than the ownership. The Emerald, which left London at 3 in the afternoon, was painted green and black, and on its modern counterpart the green is extremely bright. The Duke of Beaufort’s book “Driving” describes the Regulator coach as “a dark coach with red wheels” and “the York House chocolate with yellow wheels.” The coach usually carried its bright colour on the lower panels, door and wheels. The Red Rover coach, despite its name, was mostly black with a scarlet undercarriage and panels, and scarlet wheels. The lettering showing destinations was often done in gold paint.
Many paintings of 19th century coaches, for example by Herring, show Mail coaches. These were painted black, with a maroon door and lower panel, and “Post Office red” running gear and wheels. Destinations, and the stars of the four Orders of Knighthood on the quarter panels, and the sovereign’s monogram on the front boot, were painted in gold.
All this means that my own two wheeler, black with red wheels and shafts, is in good company. It needs to be drawn by a quality bay horse with no white markings. Well, Ruby’s the right colour.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Two hearty cheers
Well, two hearty cheers for EDF Energy who have finally agreed to register our solar panels for Feed In Tariff from the date of installation, way back in March. Letters and emails up to now have had small response other than excuses about a backlog of applications. However, a phone call to the Complaints department this morning produced the goods as email attachments within 20 minutes. So why couldn't they.... you know the rest!
Friday, August 10, 2012
Bravo
I've used this word a lot over the past two weeks. Not in the "standing to applaud the operatic diva" way, but mentally, while I've been watching TV as the various members of Team GB (as we must call them) did their utmost to win Olympic medals.
Yesterday I watched Valegro and Charlotte Dujardin's beautiful, soft, rhythmic, forward Kur. Today when I came to drive my Fell mare Ruby, the haymaking tractors were whizzing to and fro, and I had a sudden urge to avoid the roads. A really good excuse to work in the field instead. Most of the summer (hollow laugh) it's been too wet to use it for schooling, but it was sound enough today, and Ruby does enjoy being out there on the grass. Her purpose is to reclaim it, she tells me, from Those Damned Sheep.
So we worked quietly away, with me asking her to remember to use her stiff hind leg and slow down, instead of hurtling round every right handed corner like a motorbike, with her head pointing left. Lots of little exercises, bends, circles and walk pirouettes - all interspersed with what she enjoys best, just storming along the side of the wood in extended trot!
When she got things right I told her, "Good girl," because, not being Italian, she doesn't understand, "Bravo."
In the middle of it I felt a little tickle in the brain that said, "Hang on, 'bravo' has another meaning as well, doesn't it?"
So, after the schooling, I came indoors and looked it up in the Oxford English Dictionary, which I often have open in my browser. As you do.
What do you mean, you don't? Doesn't every writer in England know that access to the full OED is free if you've got a library card? And doesn't every historical novelist use its Historical Thesaurus to check what phrases and words were available to characters in their chosen period?
While the Dictionary describes the interjection as a shout of praise, "Well done!" the Historical Thesaurus also defines a noun "bravo" thus: "A daring villain, a hired soldier or assassin; ‘a man who murders for hire’ (Johnson); a reckless desperado." The dates of recorded usage stretch from 1597 to 1876.
OED quotes Ben Jonson using "bravo" in "The Silent Woman," so I hunted down the full text of "The Silent Woman." And browsing through that I found another interesting snippet:
Epicene: And have you those excellent Receits, Madam, to keep
your selves from bearing of Children?
Haughty: O yes, Morose: How should we maintain our
Youth and Beauty else? Many Births of a Woman
make her Old...
Contraception being described on stage as "excellent" back in 1616? Wow!
I think I may have a new novel brewing. It has a title. And a hero and heroine.
Well, it's a start.
Yesterday I watched Valegro and Charlotte Dujardin's beautiful, soft, rhythmic, forward Kur. Today when I came to drive my Fell mare Ruby, the haymaking tractors were whizzing to and fro, and I had a sudden urge to avoid the roads. A really good excuse to work in the field instead. Most of the summer (hollow laugh) it's been too wet to use it for schooling, but it was sound enough today, and Ruby does enjoy being out there on the grass. Her purpose is to reclaim it, she tells me, from Those Damned Sheep.
So we worked quietly away, with me asking her to remember to use her stiff hind leg and slow down, instead of hurtling round every right handed corner like a motorbike, with her head pointing left. Lots of little exercises, bends, circles and walk pirouettes - all interspersed with what she enjoys best, just storming along the side of the wood in extended trot!
When she got things right I told her, "Good girl," because, not being Italian, she doesn't understand, "Bravo."
In the middle of it I felt a little tickle in the brain that said, "Hang on, 'bravo' has another meaning as well, doesn't it?"
So, after the schooling, I came indoors and looked it up in the Oxford English Dictionary, which I often have open in my browser. As you do.
What do you mean, you don't? Doesn't every writer in England know that access to the full OED is free if you've got a library card? And doesn't every historical novelist use its Historical Thesaurus to check what phrases and words were available to characters in their chosen period?
While the Dictionary describes the interjection as a shout of praise, "Well done!" the Historical Thesaurus also defines a noun "bravo" thus: "A daring villain, a hired soldier or assassin; ‘a man who murders for hire’ (Johnson); a reckless desperado." The dates of recorded usage stretch from 1597 to 1876.
OED quotes Ben Jonson using "bravo" in "The Silent Woman," so I hunted down the full text of "The Silent Woman." And browsing through that I found another interesting snippet:
Epicene: And have you those excellent Receits, Madam, to keep
your selves from bearing of Children?
Haughty: O yes, Morose: How should we maintain our
Youth and Beauty else? Many Births of a Woman
make her Old...
Contraception being described on stage as "excellent" back in 1616? Wow!
I think I may have a new novel brewing. It has a title. And a hero and heroine.
Well, it's a start.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
review: Second Shot by Zoe Sharp
Second Shot by Zoë SharpMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
I find all Zoe's work hard to put down and this didn't break the mould. Second Shot is the first of the Charlie Fox series to introduce a child character into the mix. It shows us a softer side of Charlie's make-up. She obviously can't be a parent as well as doing the work she is naturally fitted for, but guarding a mother with a four-year-old brings her maternal instincts to the fore. That they're distinctly tigerish should be no surprise to readers of this series.
The "second shot" of the title hits Charlie when she hesitates to shoot for fear of hitting, or traumatizing, the child who is being abducted. This is also a narrative in which Charlie's brain has to be more important than her physical skill and military training, since the second half of the book has her opting to continue her work while recuperating from two major gunshot wounds - and no, she doesn't grapple with nightclub bouncers or sprint after wrongdoers in impossibly high heels. That's what I like about Ms Fox - she achieves her results in a realistic manner and with believable emotions, convictions and doubts beneath what she does so well.
Bravo Zoe... now I must go and read the next one.
View all my reviews
Saturday, July 21, 2012
The spammers are getting desperate!
OFFICE OF THE PRIME MINISTER
TREASURY AND MINISTER FOR THE CIVIL SERVICE,
LONDON,UNITED KINGDOM.
Our ref: BRT/3470/IDR
our ref:..20/07/2012
BRITISH GOVERNMENT POVERTY ALLEVIATION AND FINANCIAL EMPOWERMENT PROGRAM.
In a bit to actualizing the United Nations millennium development goal(MDG) to
eradicate extreme poverty and hunger by the year 2015; I am directed by the Rt
Hon.DAVID CAMERON MP,Prime Minister British Government to inform you of your
selection as one of the Beneficiary for the on going 2012 British Government
Poverty Alleviation and Financial Empowerment Program worldwide. All
participants/beneficiaries were selected randomly from Worldwide online networks
Directories as a beneficiary of £2,000,000.00 (Two Million, Great British
Pounds Sterling).
So, this letter is to officially inform you that ATM with ATM Card Number
{4800010177555014} has been accredited in your favor.Your Personal
Identification Number is BRT/4741.
As this office will mail you a Visa/ATM CARD which you will use to withdraw your
funds in any ATM MACHINE CENTER or Visa card outlet in the world with a maximum
of £5000 GBP daily.
Further more,You will be required to re-confirm your Bio-Data as stated below to
enable; Rt Hon William Hague MP, Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth
Affairs,immediately process your awarded funds.
1) Full names:
2) Address:
3) Country:
4) Nationality:
5) Phone No.:
6) Age:
7) Occupation:
8) Zip Code:
9) Sex:
Forward all your details reply to:
-------------------------------------------------------
Rt Hon. William Hague MP
Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
ukgovt.ssfc@w.cn
Tel:+44-701-294-6951
-------------------------------------------------------
Thank you as we anticipate your prompt response,
Mrs. Elaine Rooker Smith.
Liaison Officer On Foreign Payment
-------------------------------------------------------
They really do think we are THAT STUPID.
TREASURY AND MINISTER FOR THE CIVIL SERVICE,
LONDON,UNITED KINGDOM.
Our ref: BRT/3470/IDR
our ref:..20/07/2012
BRITISH GOVERNMENT POVERTY ALLEVIATION AND FINANCIAL EMPOWERMENT PROGRAM.
In a bit to actualizing the United Nations millennium development goal(MDG) to
eradicate extreme poverty and hunger by the year 2015; I am directed by the Rt
Hon.DAVID CAMERON MP,Prime Minister British Government to inform you of your
selection as one of the Beneficiary for the on going 2012 British Government
Poverty Alleviation and Financial Empowerment Program worldwide. All
participants/beneficiaries were selected randomly from Worldwide online networks
Directories as a beneficiary of £2,000,000.00 (Two Million, Great British
Pounds Sterling).
So, this letter is to officially inform you that ATM with ATM Card Number
{4800010177555014} has been accredited in your favor.Your Personal
Identification Number is BRT/4741.
As this office will mail you a Visa/ATM CARD which you will use to withdraw your
funds in any ATM MACHINE CENTER or Visa card outlet in the world with a maximum
of £5000 GBP daily.
Further more,You will be required to re-confirm your Bio-Data as stated below to
enable; Rt Hon William Hague MP, Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth
Affairs,immediately process your awarded funds.
1) Full names:
2) Address:
3) Country:
4) Nationality:
5) Phone No.:
6) Age:
7) Occupation:
8) Zip Code:
9) Sex:
Forward all your details reply to:
-------------------------------------------------------
Rt Hon. William Hague MP
Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs
ukgovt.ssfc@w.cn
Tel:+44-701-294-6951
-------------------------------------------------------
Thank you as we anticipate your prompt response,
Mrs. Elaine Rooker Smith.
Liaison Officer On Foreign Payment
-------------------------------------------------------
They really do think we are THAT STUPID.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Bag yourself a Clarkson
I haven’t really got it in for Jezza. I blame it on my son. He keeps trawling through the charity shops and dragging home £1 copies of Clarkson’s collected rants under titles like Born to be Riled, which he presents for my entertainment. The trouble is, at 1500 words apiece, those articles from the Sunday Times and Motorworld make perfect loo-time reading, and I have to admit the guy can write. I’m becoming addicted.
His opinions are forthright, so I suspect the ST’s lawyers scan his pieces pretty carefully before publication. I find it amusing that a fellow who started out on the Rotherham Advertiser not only has three cars but a country house with a garage big enough for all of them, especially since one of them is a Ferrari 355. There’s hope in that for us scribblers.
The article title will contain either a personal name or a car badge, like Prescott goes Bus Crazy or Lemon-Sharp Alfa. From him I have learned how to distinguish one model of Mercedes from another, how several cars are the best car ever, and how the Vauxhall Vectra fails to be the worst. I have also learned that what Jezza likes doing best, curiously, is not driving cars. Sure, he likes to drive cars, and he likes to drive them fast, but their mere speed is not of value; as I’ve observed myself, you can do 500mph in an airliner and be bored. Yes, Clarkson likes a good power-to-weight ratio. He likes to drive a lean, mean machine through corners and bends, listening to engine howl, feeling G forces and testing the limits of control. But that’s not his main aim in life.
I’ve also learned, to my surprise, that he’s not a petrolhead of the kind you avoid in the pub, the car enthusiasts who gather in little shoals to compare cam belt wear and track rod ends. He mercilessly lampoons them. Jezza drives cars, it seems, to feed his ultimate passion: writing. He likes to have material knocking on the inside of his woolly skull, keeping him awake at night and demanding to be constructed into words. Whether he’s being begged to drive a new Fiat, a Kia, a Chrysler or a Rolls, it makes no odds. He likes to drive them because it’s writing about the experience that makes him smile.
I’ve given three muffled cheers through the hem of my nightie when he rants against stupid political decisions on our transport systems. I’ve snorted appreciation at his turns of phrase and witty similes. I’ve enjoyed descriptions of drives in far-flung places, in cars I could never afford – because he writes well. If I could find such a niche for my writing, perhaps I too could be paid to gather exotic material. For this glimpse of hope, I can forgive Clarkie his rudeness about vegetarians, non smokers, gardeners, horse riders, bikers, caravanners and Greens.
Only occasionally do I get cross when he attacks the “Rohan Man” who drives a diesel car, prefers mpg to mph, recycles glass and likes the great outdoors (my husband, who wouldn’t recognise a pair of Rohan trousers if they got up and bit him.) However, when I do get cross with Clarkson, I’m appeased by one piece of inside knowledge, and the thought of how I’d use it. You see, one firm poke anywhere higher than his midriff and he’d go over like a felled tree. Bound to. He may stand six foot five and weigh seventeen stone, but he’s only got size nine feet.
His opinions are forthright, so I suspect the ST’s lawyers scan his pieces pretty carefully before publication. I find it amusing that a fellow who started out on the Rotherham Advertiser not only has three cars but a country house with a garage big enough for all of them, especially since one of them is a Ferrari 355. There’s hope in that for us scribblers.
The article title will contain either a personal name or a car badge, like Prescott goes Bus Crazy or Lemon-Sharp Alfa. From him I have learned how to distinguish one model of Mercedes from another, how several cars are the best car ever, and how the Vauxhall Vectra fails to be the worst. I have also learned that what Jezza likes doing best, curiously, is not driving cars. Sure, he likes to drive cars, and he likes to drive them fast, but their mere speed is not of value; as I’ve observed myself, you can do 500mph in an airliner and be bored. Yes, Clarkson likes a good power-to-weight ratio. He likes to drive a lean, mean machine through corners and bends, listening to engine howl, feeling G forces and testing the limits of control. But that’s not his main aim in life.
I’ve also learned, to my surprise, that he’s not a petrolhead of the kind you avoid in the pub, the car enthusiasts who gather in little shoals to compare cam belt wear and track rod ends. He mercilessly lampoons them. Jezza drives cars, it seems, to feed his ultimate passion: writing. He likes to have material knocking on the inside of his woolly skull, keeping him awake at night and demanding to be constructed into words. Whether he’s being begged to drive a new Fiat, a Kia, a Chrysler or a Rolls, it makes no odds. He likes to drive them because it’s writing about the experience that makes him smile.
I’ve given three muffled cheers through the hem of my nightie when he rants against stupid political decisions on our transport systems. I’ve snorted appreciation at his turns of phrase and witty similes. I’ve enjoyed descriptions of drives in far-flung places, in cars I could never afford – because he writes well. If I could find such a niche for my writing, perhaps I too could be paid to gather exotic material. For this glimpse of hope, I can forgive Clarkie his rudeness about vegetarians, non smokers, gardeners, horse riders, bikers, caravanners and Greens.
Only occasionally do I get cross when he attacks the “Rohan Man” who drives a diesel car, prefers mpg to mph, recycles glass and likes the great outdoors (my husband, who wouldn’t recognise a pair of Rohan trousers if they got up and bit him.) However, when I do get cross with Clarkson, I’m appeased by one piece of inside knowledge, and the thought of how I’d use it. You see, one firm poke anywhere higher than his midriff and he’d go over like a felled tree. Bound to. He may stand six foot five and weigh seventeen stone, but he’s only got size nine feet.
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